Page 16 of Bed of Roses

She threw me another dirty look, “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t need my house fixed.”

I held my hands up in retreat, I actually hadn’t even been thinking about that promotion, it had truly been curiosity.

“I’m a single girl living alone up on a mountain. Not the safest person to be running a B & B. I have a little shop on Etsy.” Her mouth split into the widest smile. “I make ornaments and decorations, Holiday dresses for American Girl dolls, pretty much anything Christmas related. I figured it out once, if everything in my shop sold, I could pay off all of my mom’s medical bills, which would mean I wouldn’t have to work so many jobs, and I could do whatever. Go back to school even.”

I laced her fingers through mine and kissed her fingertips. It surprised me how natural it felt, that strange desire to be tender. Maybe it was simply a recognition of similar pain. I wasn’t going to think about it too much.

“Why do you hate Christmas so much?” she asked.

“I don’t hate Christmas. I hate consumerism and bullshit materialism masked as gift giving. The spirt of Christmas is something pure, it’s a feeling.”

“So, because people are materialistic, you hate the whole holiday? That doesn’t make sense.”

I really didn’t want to answer this question. The answer to this lived in a dark place. One that howled and thrashed in the light. Her eyes, the most intoxicating gray blue—like a sky that was about to rain—were tiny pools of compassion promising relief from that burden. I wanted to, I opened my mouth, the story forming itself on my lips. I could taste it. Could taste the day, see the snow outside, hear that fucking song, the whole memory threatened to replay behind my eyelids, and I just couldn’t.

“It’s late, and I need to head home pretty early.” Fuck. I sucked at lying and shit excuses. “Let’s table this convo for another day.”

I turned the light out before she could voice any kind of dissent.

In the darkness, I still reached for her though. I felt her soft warmth draped along my side. Her hair just beneath my palm, her rapid heartbeat and panted breath. She was restless with unanswered questions. For a full hour she couldn’t settle, and it was me that did that to her. One day, Marley, I promised. One day I’ll have the balls to tell you.

12

Iached everywhere. Not in the bad, I’d been standing on my feet in Edwardian shoes too long, but in the most delicious of ways. Even now, long hours after I had experienced a night of pleasure I’d never even known existed, I could still feel him. My muscles ached in the physical sense, but I also fluttered with a bone deep need to do it all over again. Every time I saw him brooding in his broadcasting booth my uterus actually clenched. Thank fuck I was on the pill because I swear my baby maker even wanted in on the Ted Tucker fuck wagon. See what he’s done to me? I just said fuck twice in one sentence.

It was nearly perfect. Nearly, because last night he had turned icy cold, and even today he’d been a bit stand offish. Not mean, not distant—just, brooding. Like I said before. Raven and Bear were collecting pledges today to buy Christmas presents for needy families, much to the chagrin of Bear—Ted? —Bear? Whichever I was supposed to call him. From my perch beneath the North Pole Inn sign, I watched as Ted ripped his headphones off, flung them on the table and stormed off—leaving Raven to handle hosting duties on her own.

My mom always used to say that I have an eagle eye for drama and can’t resist swooping in to get the details. Unfortunately, as much as I’d like to prove that statement wrong, my feet were already high tailing it across the square, cup of coffee and a handful of cookies in hand.

“You look like you could use these?” I offered to Raven, who gratefully accepted the coffee taking a timid sip.

“I am so fucking cold,” she explained. “I would love nothing more than to slam this whole cup in an attempt to get warm—despite the risk of burning my esophagus.”

“What’s wrong with Scrooge?” I nodded in his direction, standing in line at the bar.

“God,” she rolled her eyes on a labored sign, “what isn’t wrong with him today? He couldn’t sleep last night, its cold, he’s uncomfortable in his outfit, the line back to the station has too much interference, this donation and request promotion has too many people asking for his least favorite song and he’s pissed about that too.”

Bear stood in line intently focused on his phone, typing a message to someone with fervor.

“Yeah, what’s up with that anyway?”

“With the song? No clue. Maybe it’s just too overtly pop-y, for such a hard metalhead.”

“Yeah I guess,” I played with the lace hem of my jacket, “but it’s such a visceral reaction. I just wonder if something like bad happened to him, to make him hate Christmas. Like from when he was in foster care or something.”

The words were already out before I realized I stepped in shit big time. Bear and I hadn’t really discussed where we were going. Like, was it a one-night stand… would we keep seeing how things went? Either way though he’d shared that stuff with me in confidence, and I overstepped with someone with whom I did not yet have a friendship.

“Sure…” she dragged the word out while giving me a once over.

“Marley.”

I looked up and there he was. I searched his face to see if he would give any indication of anything about last night, but his face was as blank as freshly fallen snow.

“Hi.” I said.

“Hi. So, are you here because of the giveaway? Because we don’t typically do like a post-holiday elf wrap up or anything.”

“Oh…yeah. Of course. Ha, no I was just bringing over some coffee…because you both look kind of cold. So, I’m going to get going, I have a whole new batch of cookies to hand out. Unbroken this time.” I laughed too hard at my own joke. It was forced. Obviously so. I couldn’t look at either of them, I didn’t want my face to reveal how awkward I felt. I hurried off to find a corner to hide in until my abject mortification wore off.

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