Page 73 of The Sleight Before Christmas

As the day winds down and delicious smells begin to fill the cabin, the Christmas spirit arrives. Not long after a thankfullyuneventful but delicious dinner of Allen’s ‘roast beast,’ we all huddle together in front of the stage for karaoke. Serena sits next to me, Jameson in her lap as Peyton watches on, seemingly a very jealous man. Allen surprises us all by kicking off the night with a rendition of “Lady” by Kenny Rogers rather than his typical Elvis tribute. His timbre and delivery are pure talent. So much so that even the kids watch on, stunned by it.

The song is old and most likely lost in most collector’s archives, but it’s significant to me because of the memory it stirs.

Probably as close to as significant for the man currently serenading his tearful wife. The memory brings one I hadn’t got to recollect yet—of one of my favorite nights with Serena in our shed, or rather outside of it. Though Serena’s remembrance has her past me in the timeline of our early days, I know I’m left behind in one of the sweetest spots. At least for me, because the very first time I heard this song was just after Christmas—before I lost my shit and kicked Serena out of my truck, ending what we started.

Already freaked out by her insistence that we take our relationship out of the safe space of the shed, the reality and fear that fueled me to end it after my run-in with Daniel drove the guttural truth home for me.

But before the night I almost lost the love of my life to utter fucking stupidity, there was the last push into my full-fledged fall.

“I’m hungry,” Serena says, looking over to me. “Let’s have a Honey Baked ham sandwich.”

“What?”

“Ever had one?”

“No,” I tell her. “What’s Honey Baked ham?”

“Oh, baby, it’s the fucking greatest,” her endearment a first, it rocks me slightly as she continues. “The sweetest ham ever,but not too sweet. It’s a place that specializes in ham. It’s got a brown sugar crusty outer layer, and it’s just, it’s so good.”

Serena knows ham is my favorite, and my mouth waters at the idea of it.

“It sounds good.”

“Okay,” she pulls away from me and straightens her clothes, looking thoroughly kissed and freshly sated. The sight of her like this is my favorite. Standing in front of me, she holds out her hand expectantly.

“I’m not going with you,” I shake my head.

“Let’s think through this logically, Thatch. You just fingered me to orgasm out here. Now weigh that,” she lifts her hands to mimic a tipping scale, “against getting caught making a fucking ham sandwich with me in our kitchen. Which do you think would upset Allen more?”

“Good point,” I say, standing.

She threads our fingers together and glances up at me. “They know we’re together, Thatch.”

“Serena—”

“Ah, fuck ya objections tonight, my gorgeous man,” she lifts and plants one on me. “Let me be happy with you, okay?”

Biting my lip, I nod, loving every word she spoke even as my heart cracks at the fact that very soon, I’m going to strip every one of her notions about us away. Pissed at myself for not being honest with her the way Allen ordered me to, I squeeze her hand.

“Come on, baby, I’m starving.”

“Because you just smoked two joints,” I counter, counting two ‘babies’ and one ‘gorgeous man’. I’m so fucked, and the thing is, I want to be. But I can’t be. I can’t fucking be here. I’m done. I’m a free man, and she’s now standing in the way of it. I was supposed to tell her tonight, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t look at her and be honest, again.

“Will you ever smoke with me?” She asks as we make our way toward the house.

“I doubt it,” I say honestly, the thought of driving away from Nashville now becoming less and less appealing. As we both cross the deck, hand in hand, music starts to filter through the air, gaining volume as we draw closer to the house. The arrival of it has me hesitating.

“Huh,” she says, “well, they’re definitely up.”

Unease takes hold as she grips my hand more tightly and immediately ushers me through the back door so I can’t object. Once inside, Kenny Rogers’ voice fills the air, and the two of us sneak through the short hallway that leads between the kitchen and living room. Serena stops just short of the living room, her face quickly becoming covered in various shades of Christmas lights as her expression morphs into one of utter captivation. Studying her just as carefully as whatever she’s surveying, I know that what she’s seeing, she wants for herself. I’m only further convinced as her eyes water, and she looks over to me, nodding her head, encouraging me to peek in.

Moving to stand behind her, her crown resting just inches from my lips, I stare into the living room to see Ruby and Allen dancing next to their Christmas tree. The two of them tangled together, their posture intimate, their eyes locked. But it’s the way they’re looking at one another that briefly steals my breath. More specifically, the look in Serena’s mother’s eyes. A look that convinces me of what I’m starting to feel—believe. Because I’ve seen that same look in her daughter’s eyes. More than once.

Love.

Swallowing, I slide my arm around Serena’s waist, and she sinks back against me as we watch her parents dance. When the song ends, Journey’s “Open Arms” begins to play, and I can’t help my words.

“I love this song,” I whisper to her temple as she sways in front of me.

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