Page 31 of Booked for the Holidays
“Would you…” Theo trails off. Scuffs his boot against the floor, drags his eyes to mine. “Do you want a hug?” he finishes softly.
He does that, sometimes. When he voices something he’s not sure he’s allowed to say. He becomes quiet and timid, like he never should have asked in the first place. I like the soft Theo. The one not many people get to see.
“Yeah,” I whisper back, a chuckle caught in the words. “I do.”
He stands up straight and opens his arms. I walk toward him, a magnetic pull. We’ve never hugged before, but it’s instinctive and automatic, our bodies knowing exactly where to connect. My head finds his shoulder, and I rest it there. In the crook of his neck, nose tipping up the column of his throat. His chin drops to the top of my hair. A weight leaves my body as I exhale, relaxing into him. His arms envelop me, sheathing me in a cloak of warmth. A blanket on a cold night, a cocoon of quiet. A net of safety.
Theo sighs, the hot puff of air gliding over my forehead. His palm splays over the small of my back, rubbing up from the base of my spine then down before pulling me even nearer.
I think I could stay like this forever.
“I haven’t hugged anyone besides my kid in a while,” he admits into my hair.
“Good news. You’re not terrible at it.” My voice is muffled by the collar of his shirt, and his answering chuckle rumbles his chest.
“A compliment I’ll hold dear. Bridget, I hope you know you’re not an idiot. You’re allowed to express your emotions however you see fit. If that’s crying, yelling, or laughing, they’re all allowed.”
“I know,” I whisper. A tear clings to his shirt. “I just don’t want to look silly.”
“Trust me, you don’t look silly. Thanks for taking charge at the meeting. I’m normally more assertive, but new folks kind of make me want to close off.”
“I’m just glad you’re here. This might be the best hug I’ve ever had.”
It’s the right amount of pressure, and our difference in height matches up well. I can fit against him without contorting my body. Easy and natural, controlled and spontaneous. No one has hugged me like this before. My limbs become pliant, knowing they’re safe here. With him.
With a squeeze, he pulls back. His arms unwind from my waist. My cheek leaves the hollow of his chest. I raise my chin to look at him, and his smile tips up. Every time he does that–glows bright like a damn Christmas tree–I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. Each one of his grins is my new favorite sight.
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he says.
“You can bring Mac on Friday if you want. Not that I’m trying to tell you how to parent or anything,” I backtrack. “Just. You know. It’s an option.”
“Still not over being flustered when you talk about her, huh?”
“You’re an ass.” I reach out to flick his ear.
He lets out a full belly laugh while he attempts to dodge my attack. It’s the first time I’ve heard it, loudly and wholly, and it’s better than all of the small chuckles in the world.
A cheerful sound, filling the room. It reaches every corner, every nook and cranny. The noise, as rare and elusive as it is, is my doing.I’mthe one causing his shoulders to shake, his eyes to close, his nose to scrunch, wrinkles and laugh lines forming on his skin.
His gaze moves to my cheek. “You have pizza on your face. How does that happen?”
“Who knows, Theo? Probably from the napkin you gave me. Do you have another? I can–”
I can’t finish my sentence because soon he’s licking the pad of his thumb. He’s moving into my space, close enough where I can smell the spice and pine of his cologne. The clean fabric of his shirt and the mint from his toothpaste. His finger swipes the sauce away, lingering on my skin, far too long to be considered cordial or friendly. I hold my breath, terrified to exhale. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll blow him away and he’ll disappear forever.
I see a small, white scar above the top of his lip. A jagged, faded line I’ve never noticed before. There’s less ice behind his eyes, too. They’re thawing. Shards of pain, a haunted past, and an abundance of hurt melting away. I stare at my reflection in his glasses and wonder if he sees me like I see him.
Hopeful, a little bit flawed, and a plethora of dreams. Doing the best he can alone in the world. I guess we’re kind of similar in that way, two souls trying to figure it all out, no one to guide us or help us along.
“Better?” I ask. My voice wavers at the reverence he’s demonstrating. The gentle touch, the careful consideration.
“Perfect.” His hand falls to my hair, and he tucks a rogue piece behind my ear.
I’ve stopped breathing.
I’ve stopped thinking.
All I can focus on is his skin on mine.
