Page 37 of One Foggy Christmas
I couldn’t verbalize then what I know now.
Stetson is my past and my future. He’s the backbone of the life plan I laid out for myself in Skaneateles. I’ve always known I would marry him. Everyone expects a happy ending from us. So when he knelt down on one knee, holding a diamond out in front of him, there was no other option besides yes.
And Nash keeping his distance is exactly what I needed to find some clarity.
The internship is over in a few weeks. I’ll move home, and Nash will be a small blip on my radar, never to be thought about again.
“Are you having a good time, Sadie?” Josie sits in the empty seat next to mine.
Despite being the week of Thanksgiving, Superior Health’s Christmas party is in full swing. Nash thinks it’s better to have the holiday party before the craziness of December sets in.
Grace, Josie, and Harper worked hard all day transforming the rented hotel conference room into a Christmas wonderland. Strands of fresh garland line the walls of the room. Round tables with red and white linens create a semi-circle in front of the live band. Twinkling lights hang overhead like a circus tent, and in the middle of it all, a giant mistletoe looms over everything.
I smile back at Josie. “I’m having a great time. You guys have really outdone yourselves with the decorations.”
“How come you’re not dancing?”
“Oh…” My eyes shoot to the dance floor, where Nash leads everybody in the YMCA. This is his company. His party. I don’t want to ruin his night by being out there with everyone. “I’m just kind of tired.”
She grabs my hands, pulling me to my feet and out to the dance floor. “You can sleep on your flight home tomorrow.”
“I’m driving home, not flying,” I say over the music, but the closer we get to the band, the louder it is.
I maneuver my way to the outskirts of the circle, on the opposite side as Nash. The next three songs are upbeat, and I do my best to dance with my back to him, avoiding all contact.
Then the lead singer says, “Grab a partner because we’re going to slow things down a little.”
The piano starts, and I immediately recognize “All I Want for Christmas is You”—Michael Bublé style. That’s my cue to go sit down again. At a party where everyone besides me has their significant other with them, I’m the odd man out.
Spinning around, I nearly bump into Nash.
I hate that I immediately notice how good he smells.
The reflection of the Christmas lights dot his green eyes in the most magical way. “Dance with me?”
“Uh…” I tuck my hair behind my ear, keeping my hand there as I nervously look around at all the other paired-up couples. “I don’t know if?—”
“Dance with me.” This time, it sounds more like a command than a question. He takes my hand in his, wrapping his arm around me. His fingers skim the contour of my back before cupping the curve of my waist.
A riot of feelings pulses through my chest as I place my hand on Nash’s shoulder, letting him lead us to the song's beat. We’ve never been this close. It’s innocent—the type of dance position you’d see from awkward teenagers who are afraid to touch their seventh-grade dance partner. But even thenot-touching is killing me.
I feel his eyes on me in a pleading way, begging me to look at him. My focus firmly stays on the wall over his right shoulder. I am zeroed in.
“I hear you’re going home for Thanksgiving.”
My gaze darts to him, but one glance at his soft lips, and I immediately swing my eyes back to the spot on the wall. It’s safer there. “Yeah, I’m driving first thing in the morning.”
“Is everything back to normal between you and your parents?” It’s small talk, but not. His question is actually something real and vulnerable in my life.
“Not even close, but we’ll pretend and fake it because that’s what we do.”
“How are you holding up without Tate? The first holidays are always the worst.”
“Honestly, I’m dreading it.”
I allow myself a peek at Nash.
Bad idea.
