Page 16 of Check the Halls
He grins at me, displaying two perfectly symmetrical dimples, and it’s the closest I’ve ever come to an out-of-body experience. I feel unarmed and defenseless where he’s armed to the teeth. Those dimples make me want to cover his cheeks so only I can see them. His dark eyes, surrounded by even darker lashes that are almost too long for a boy, but perfect on him.
Ben Michaels is so pretty.
I force myself to look away, snatching up the lip balm that rests on the corner of my desk. I busy myself with applying a coat to my lips while I attempt to regain my senses. I’ve had a few crushes before, most of them on fictional men written by women, but nothing compared to the way my body and brain are reacting here and now.
When I set the lip balm back down and work up the courage to look up, Ben is staring at my glossed mouth in a way that tells me I might not be the only one struggling. He swallows then reaches out to examine the pink tube of cheap ChapStick.
“Strawberry Sundae,” he reads before lifting his eyes back to my mouth which, like the rest of me, feels feverish under his gaze. “Does it taste like strawberries?”
“Good morning, everyone,” Mrs. MacSwain sing-songs as she enters the classroom. “Are you excited to discuss Federalism and Intergovernmental Relations? Of course you are!”
The class groans and Ben gives me one more lingering smile before turning to face the front of the room.
Yes, I think to myself.It does taste like strawberries.
NOW
“So he just…agreed to be a posterboy?”
I glance over my shoulder at Derek, catching him in the mirror as he adjusts the knot of his tie. He’s watching his reflection, not me, which makes it easier to answer for some reason.
“Ambassador,” I correct as I smooth out the last corner of the fitted sheet and toss the comforter over the bed, fluffing it into place. I still have to pack my lunch and finish drying my hair, but I just can’t leave my bed unmade. Derek doesn’t seem to have the same problem, happy to leave the daily task to me. I wonder if he made the bed before I moved in. “I guess. Alyssa was the one who spoke with him.”
I was in Chanda’s office asking her about last year’sguest list when Alyssa waltzed in with the good news. She made it sound like she’d been the one to convince Ben to take the job and when Chanda turned around and thanked me for making it happen, my least favourite underling begrudgingly smiled through gritted teeth before storming back to her desk.
“I’m surprised he’s got that kind of time, to be honest. Must be nice.” He holds two almost identical jackets up to me for my opinion. I pretend to consider them before pointing to the one on the left.
“Maybe he just really believes in the cause.” It would make sense. Ben grew up in a tight-knit community on Prince Edward Island, where neighbors looked out for each other and generosity wasn’t just encouraged, it was expected. People in small communities depend on foundations and corporate sponsors to keep programs alive, and fundraisers like this aren’t just about money; they’re about giving kids a chance to play, to belong, to fall in love with the sport the way he once did.
“Or maybe he thinks he still has a chance with you,” he snorts, waggling his eyebrows at me in the mirror. I scowl back at him which only makes him laugh harder. I launch one of the many decorative pillows at his back.
It’s not his lack of jealousy that bothers me. Derek has never shown an ounce of jealousy when it comes to me. But he clearly finds the idea that Ben could be pining after me all these years later comical and that pisses me off.
Not that I think he is pining after me. Because I’m not pining after him. No one is pining.
I don’t turn around when he crosses the room and wraps his arms around my waist. “You know I’m kidding, Maddycakes.” He plants a quick kiss on my cheek beforereleasing me. “It’s just so random. You and your high school boyfriend, working together on your little project.”
I stiffen. “It’s a multimillion-dollar fundraiser, Derek. Not a church bake sale.”
Derek works at one of Ottawa’s more prestigious law firms. He handles fairly high-profile cases, but it’s not like he’s curing cancer. We met three years ago when his firm in Nova Scotia was handling a matter for the corporation I was working for. We dated casually for just under a year before he was offered a promotion at the firm's Ottawa branch. Long distance made sense for us. We both worked such long hours, it honestly didn’t feel that much different than when we lived in the same province. A year ago, he came home for a long weekend and surprised me by proposing.
Shocked the hell out of me, to be honest.
He waves his hand dismissively, and that’s exactly how I feel: dismissed.
As I’m stewing, Cheshire prowls into the bedroom, his orange fur practically glowing in the morning sunlight. He hops onto the freshly made bed, settling right in the center like a king claiming his throne. He stares down Derek, as though he could sense I needed defending.
Derek frowns deeply as Cheshire stretches out lazily, sinking his claws into the comforter. The moment Derek steps closer, my fluffy boy lets out a low, deliberate hiss.
I bite back a smile, smoothing down the comforter beside him. “Cheshire, be nice,” I chide halfheartedly.
Derek rolls his eyes at me but still makes his way over to me, delivering another kiss to the same cheek. “I’ve got to get to work. I’m taking a potential client to dinner tonight so I have no idea when I’ll be home.” Heworks late almost every night, so this comes as no surprise.
Maybe I’ll grab takeout and see if Mom wants to have dinner over FaceTime. Last time we did that, I sat cross-legged on my couch with a carton of pad Thai while she picked at a salad in her cluttered kitchen. We wound up talking for hours until my food was cold and we were both fighting yawns.
I miss her terribly. The steady warmth of her voice, the way she always knows when I need comfort. But the thought of filling her in on everything happening at work and with Ben fills me with dread. And the things Ican’tupdate her on—the wedding planning that’s stalled, the decisions I keep putting off—weigh even heavier on me.
“Of course,” I tell Derek. “Have a good day.”
