Page 40 of Booked for the Holidays
“Success!” She laughs gleefully and switches sides with me, shifting to my right.
“Why did you ever pick skating as a sport?” I ask her.
“I watched the Olympics one year and it looked fun. So I just kind of did it. I thought the jumps would scare me. Turns out, they don’t.”
“What does scare you? Besides the height thing.”
Bridget is quiet for a moment. Contemplative, gazing out across the ice. Her hand flexes, tightening its grip around mine. I expect her to say something silly, like spiders or snakes.
“Being alone, I think. I love people, but I enjoy my quiet time of solitude after a day full of interacting. There’s this fear I’m going to go home to an empty house every night for the rest of my life, though. And I want someone to just be in the quiet with me. The kind of relationship where you don’t have to talk all the time. You don’t have to ask questions. You can sit side-by-side on the couch in silence and be the happiest person in the world, because you’re there together.”
I didn’t mean for the conversation to take such a serious turn as I process what she said. That’s one of my fears, too. It’s been years since my last relationship, but I always enjoyed being half of a whole. I liked having someone to share my day with. To send a stupid picture to at three o’clock on a Thursday. Someone next to me in bed, tangled together under the light of the setting moon and rising sun, sleep ignored
as we explored each other until dawn.
“What about you?” asks Bridget. “What scares you?”
I shouldn’t go down this road. I shouldn’t start to peel back the layers because when she sees what lies beneath, she might not want to stay.
And I think I’d like her to stick around.
“People leaving,” I answer. “People always leave. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s why I keep everyone at arm’s length. It’s easier to pretend things are okay when they inevitably go.”
“Ah.” She hums in understanding. “Maybe you’re only looking for the wrong ones, then. The right ones won’t leave. The right ones will stick around.”
I scoff at her unwavering optimism. “Not when they know everything about me.”
“Becausethey know everything about you. We all have flaws, Theo. Life’s about finding the person who welcomes them.”
“How do you do that? How do you always find the good parts of life? Does it get exhausting? Do you ever just want to… yell?”
Bridget chuckles. “Sometimes. There’s so much you can’t control, no matter how hard you try. But then I remember some people are worth being tired for, because they have a lot of good to offer.”
“The right ones,” I supply.
“Yeah,” she agrees, a serene smile in place. “The right ones.”
“I’m learning.”
“You are.” Her palm eases out of mine and splays out over my lower back. With a light push, she ushers me away. “Ready to try skating on your own?”
I stay upright as I make a small stride. “Not so bad,” I admit. Another few steps forward and my feet shuffle out from under me. Before I can stop it, I’m toppling to the ground, face first. I land on my stomach, melted ice soaking through my shirt. “Well. Shit. That didn’t go like I’d hoped.”
Bridget crouches down and offers her hand. “Come on, Collector. We’ll try again.”
For the next two hours she doesn’t leave my side, gently guiding me around and around the rink. She lifts my arm above my head so she can spin underneath. She gets me to smile, helping me forget about the stack of paperwork on my desk or the to-do list I need to accomplish next week.
I’m in the moment.
Thismoment, with her.
And it’s all kinds of perfect.
I have an army of dings and scratches by the end of the night. Red marks and bruises paint my body. My knees hurt and a Band-Aid got slapped on my elbow. As I kick the skates off and slip back into my boots, vowing to never step foot on the ice again, her laughter–louder than the music, brighter than the Christmas lights–eases the pain of all the aches.
SIXTEEN
BRIDGET
