Page 33 of The Holiday Honeymoon Switch
He laughs. “Hey, you just said I didn’t have to.”
“I was trying to apply reverse psychology. I’ve been dying to know your score all these years.”
“Have you really? All these years, you’ve wondered?” There’s something to his words she still can’t quite decode. His expression is changing again, softening. She finds herself drawn closer to him, leaning toward him in her stool.
“I have!” she insists, reaching over and touching his arm under his soft flannel shirt, not quite sure why she can’t stop herself from doing so.
A long pause. She waits.
“2300,” he finally says quietly.
“Excuse me? Can you repeat that?”
“2300,” he says louder, and with a grin.
“Aiden! That’s a great score! You left me in your dust. Congratulations.”
“I’ll admit it, Ireallywanted to beat you. It started to become a point of pride to do better than the legendary Holly Beech, when I was at college on scholarship. All these years later, though…it hardly seems to matter.”
“Oh, come on. Look at your face. It totally matters.”
“You’re right.” He smiles mischievously. “It totally matters. Hey, are you done with your food?” She nods and he stands, clearing the plates as she thinks about what he said earlier, about being an MIT dropout. With an SAT score like that, why didn’t he finish college? But as comfortable as she is with him, she doesn’t feel she can ask. It seems like a sore spot, and she doesn’t want to pry.
“You’re my guest. You don’t clean up,” she says, jumping up from her stool.
“Out of the question. I was raised to do the dishes when someone else cooks. You have to let me, or my mom will find out and ground me. One of the perils of living in the same small town as your parents.”
She laughs. “Okay then—but you have to let me dry.”
After they wash and dry the dishes, Aiden declines another glass of wine because he has to drive, but says yes to a coffee to go with the movie. Teenage Nicole Kidman manages to save Christmas and her family’s farm, but they’re chatting so much they barely pay attention, and soon the movie’s credits are rolling.
“I have an early morning,” Aiden says, and she thinks he sounds regretful. She knows she is. She doesn’t want the night to end. “I should get going. But this has been a great night, Holly. Thank you.”
Holly walks him to the door. “Thank you, Aiden. For everything.” She steps out onto the deck with him, into air so cold it sparkles in the moonlight with tiny flecks of snow. She looks up and sees all the familiar constellations hanging above the evergreens. “Wow,” she breathes. “I know these stars are always here, but I can’t see them in the city. This place is exactly what I needed.”
“This is the best spot for stargazing.”
But when she looks away from the sky, she sees that Aiden is watching her, not the stars. His eyes are bright in thedarkness. “I won’t pry,” he says. “But Iwillsay that getting outdoors in winter always helps if something is bothering me.”
“You mean eating ramen noodles, sleeping in, and watching holiday movies is not the solution to all life’s problems?”
He laughs. “No, those are amazing choices, too. But so is fresh air. Watching stars—or, when it’s light out, there are some maps to hiking and ski trails in the guidebook. And snowshoes, cross-country skis, and skates in the shed. The code to unlock it is ‘SNOWY.’ ”
“I love to skate,” Holly says. “I haven’t in ages.”
“There’s a pretty good outdoor rink in the town square—but to be honest, the best skating around here is on the river. Only you can’t do that alone. It’s not safe.”
“Oh. Well…”
“I can take you,” he says quickly, almost sounding relieved at the idea. “I’m tied up tomorrow, but the afternoon after that?”
Holly doesn’t know if he’s asked her to go skating on the river because he feels sorry for her, or because he actually wants to—all she knows is the invitation has created a warm bloom of happiness in her chest. “I’d love to, Aiden.”
“Great. Midafternoon okay?” She nods. “The skates in the shed may need a sharpening and a tune-up, so let’s meet at McLaren Sports, five doors down from the grocery store, at three. Good night, Holly.”
He continues to look down at her, thoughtful. She has the sudden image of herself standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips, brushing hers against his. What would that feel like? But she can’t. She’s like a statue. And then he’s turning away, waving when he reaches his truck.
He waves again through the windshield, and then he’s gone.
