Page 43 of Stocking Stuffers
“What an asshole.”
Her eyes got a tad wide and wet before a tear escaped. He wiped it away and she made a noise that was a cross between a sniffle and a laugh.
“It was a pretty dress. I’m still pissed no one got to see it.”
He smiled and leaned his forehead into hers. “I bet.”
“It’s been hard stomaching the Christmas season this year. It’s so in your face. Christmas was supposed to be full of love for us, our anniversary, and instead it is full of my heartache. I’m not mad at him anymore, but I have an almost visceral reaction to Christmas now. It brings back all those memories, and my embarrassment, and the pain of being so publicly rejected.”
“That’s horrible, Sasha. I’m so sorry. This had to be hell for you, being stuck here.”
“It wasn’t so bad, almost like exposure therapy.”
He snorted and kissed her lightly. “I can’t imagine leaving someone at the altar. You deserved better than that.”
“He said he didn’t want to be tied down, wasn’t ready, too young. He wasn’t right for me—I realize that now. He saved us both a lot of pain down the line.”
”Still had to hurt,” he said. She shrugged and shot him a sad smile. He trailed a hand from her neck to her shoulder. “How did you cope with the breakup?”
His recent breakup made him feel unimportant and small. He didn’t miss his ex, exactly, but he felt dumb for not seeing how unsteady their relationship had been to begin with.
“Well, I coped by fucking one of my bridesmaids—the inimitable Josy. She’s part of a monogamous throuple now, so no more playtime for us. But yeah, I fucked a friend, which helped for about an hour or, well, four hours.” She smiled but quickly sobered. “Then I didn’t get out of bed for three weeks.”
He stared at her hard, scared to ask the next question, but it felt inexorable, like the melting of snow and the changing of seasons. “Is he why you don’t date? This asshole who broke your heart?”
A little furrow bloomed between her brows as she frowned. “I guess I don’t trust in romantic love. For me. I’ve had no real examples of it in my entire life. My parents sucked and were worse when they were together. My fiancé dumped me and left me to sort out the mess of our cancelled wedding. My sister’s going through a messy divorce, and my brother can’t find a good man to save his life. Why search for something if it doesn’t exist? It’s as useful as thinking Santa’s actually going to fart out your chimney with a bag of toys.”
“But …” His heart was slamming in his chest, every cell in his body screaming at him to argue.
He wasn’t even sure she was wrong. He didn’t have many good examples of loving relationships either. His mom and dad had been great together, but his dad had died young. He had friends who were married but just as many who were divorced.
But that didn’t mean love wasn’t a worthy pursuit or that he didn’t want it.
“You’re not going to talk me out of it,” she said softly. “I’m happy. I have lots of friends and a wonderful, exciting job. Those things fill my life with all the companionship and intimacy and love I need. I get that there are exceptions to the rule, that romance and relationships work for some people. That it doesn’t hurt them like it has hurt me. But they’re the exceptions.”
He nodded and rolled over onto his back. Her words shouldn’t have gutted him, but they did.
“I understand why you feel that way. I wish … Well, I like you, but I respect that you don’t want that with me.”
“It’s not only you, Perry. It’s everyone. Anyone. You and I—we could be friends. We could definitely fuck again. But not—”
“I get it.” He didn’t want to hear her reject him again. He took an unsteady breath. “I think … Maybe I crave security and love, especially with my life all over the place. That’s what I want.”
Two nights with Sasha and his emotions were already getting away from him. There was no way he could do this regularly, not without falling for her.
I don’t want to get hurt.
“It’s a good thing to want,” she said. “It’s important to know yourself, to know what works for you and what doesn’t.”
“But that means that this”— he gestured between them—“doesn’t work. Or, that it won’t, eventually.”
Her jaw clenched, and sadness flooded her eyes for a second before she blinked it away. “Yeah. We had a fun two days, though.”
She pulled the sheet up over their heads until they were enclosed in it, intimate and warm. They stared into each other’s eyes, memorizing the moment. And each other. He had been in a lot of relationships and had believed himself in love a time or two, but he’d never felt this stripped down. Never wished that morning would never come.
After a few minutes, Sasha yawned, and he pulled her deeper into his arms.
“Is sex always like this for you? Always so …close?” he whispered.
