Page 28 of One Small Secret

Crap.

I’ve just been had. And there's nothing I can do about it. I’ve already celebrated my superior difficult-word knowledge. I’ve crafted a ridiculous sentence with a word I know nothing about. The only question that remains is how he's going to make me pay for it. His thumb is slowly making its way to the bottom pages as if he's going to flip the book open again and tout the real definition at any moment.

“Axley,” I say brightly. “Do you know what kind of car that is?” Axley looks up, but I don’t think he’s registered my question. His hand is wrapped around a chunky wooden car that can’t possibly be patterned after a real model. “It’s a blue one.”

Colors. I should be working on colors with Axley. My comment to him makes complete sense, actually. I grab another car off the table and hold it up. “This one’s red.” I pop up and march into the kitchen. “I’m going to grab you some dinner.”

I hear a sigh behind me, and if I’m not mistaken, the sound of my present being closed completely. For the moment, I am spared the mortification of being told I was wrong. Not that I can’t handle being wrong now and again. Just not where the Palmer family is concerned, and that goes double for Ruben. I’ve got issues, apparently, but I’ll deal with them later. From the corner of my eye I see Ruben join Axley on the floor. He rolls a car off the top of the ramp and it crashes into Axley’s foot. Axley’s eyes go wide as he laughs and grabs it. If I were living in a movie, the camera would zoom in on the two of them, and the audience would sigh.

I reheat a plate of Mom’s shepherd's pie, put Axley in his high chair and hand him a spoon even though I know he’s just going to eat with his hands. Both Mom and the parenting books agree it’s good for him to try to use one anyway.

Ruben is back on the sofa and Axley is eating just fine on his own. I sit back down on the coffee table and grab the bag containing Ruben’s present. “Your turn,” I say brightly.

Something is warring behind Ruben’s eyes. He sneaks a peek at my dictionary, but then his eyes dart back to my gas station treasure. He has to want to tell me I’m wrong. But he also seems curious about my present. He scoots forward and his knee bumps my thigh. I suck in a sharp breath and immediately force my body out of high alert and into neutral. Why is my body so aware of him? I glance at Ruben and today is my lucky day, because he’s reaching for his present, and I think he missed my propaganda-induced chemical response to him. His thumb grazes my fingers, and instead of pulling his present away from me, he pauses. I’m channeling a jellyfish floating in the ocean. I have no nervous system. I don’t even feel how warm and intoxicating that digit of his is. He has a girlfriend, right? When was the last time I saw him and Daphne in the media? More than a week. Maybe two weeks.

I wait for him to pull the bag to him, but he doesn’t. He's just as frozen as I am. Then, instead of taking the bag, his fingers tighten over mine and he leans to the side, bringing his mouth next to my cheek.

Breathing suddenly becomes dangerous. Ruben is so close, I could turn my head and kiss him. Does he want me to? Is this what he expects to happen anytime he makes it into a woman’s apartment? It can’t be. It isn’t like I’m one of his…his…my vision goes a bit hazy. Ruben’s free hand tucks some of my hair behind my ear and I should definitely, maybe, turn my head for a kiss.

But I can’t do it. Twenty-eight years of knowing Ruben and not kissing him has made it nearly impossible to change that statistic. But the decision might not be up to me, because Ruben is slowly lowering his mouth toward my ear. His breath is on my neck. “Cadence…” His voice rolls over me, low and deep and even better than his cologne voice. I want to start a protest on the street—a march demanding Ruben use this voice more. I should be able to listen to it online anytime I want. “Chandelle: a steep, climbing turn executed in an aircraft to gain height while changing the direction of flight.”

I close my eyes. Freaking Ruben. Of course. Of course this is what he’s doing. Proving me wrong and relishing in the fact that he can pretty much turn any woman into a puddle. The next time I get a free moment alone, I’m going to scan that book until I find a difficult word that means odious, and I’m going to use it on him.

I scrunch my nose and open my eyes. He pulls his present out of my hand and sits back as if he hadn’t just made my breath hitch. We both missed our difficult word definitions, but he won the game. Without a doubt. His smile is different—innocent and guileless, as if he’s never done one wrong thing in his life.

And he probably hasn’t.

I refuse to go down this way. “I suppose some people might like to use the word that way.”

He raises his thick, model-worthy eyebrows. “Probably airplane pilots.”

I press my lips in a hard line, but I can’t hold it. The corners of my mouth lift. I tip my head to one side. “Who’s the smart aleck now?” I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him, even though that would absolutely make him laugh. “Just open your gas station Christmas present, already.”

His innocent smile is replaced by an honest-to-goodness grin, and he makes short work of taking the present out of the bag and tearing off the wrapping paper. Ruben turns the mug so he can read it. His eyes glance at me over his present and something flashes in them. “I love it.”

Based on that flash in his eye, I might actually believe him, which is dumb, right? Why would he love a cheesy mug that has his own hotel’s name on it?

“It was either that or motor oil.”

“As much as I love motor oil, I think you made the right choice.”

His dimple is showing, but there's no way I’m going to fall for his heartthrob smile twice in one night. I jump up from the table and grab his mug from him. The water finished boiling ages ago. “I got a matching one.” Based on the way his smile deepens, he likes that too. “I’ll make tea.”

I dash over to the kitchen, wipe Axley’s mouth even though it will be a mess again in 2.5 seconds, and take my time pouring the hot water into our mugs. I rip open the first of the tea bags and drop it into Ruben’s cup. It isn’t until I’m tearing open my bag that I notice the writing on it.

“Chamomile Xtra: Xtreme Calm.” Well, I’m in need of some xtreme calm. I debate taking both of them for myself and giving Ruben something else, but his is already in the mug, so hopefully one bag will make my stupid heart settle.

“Sugar?” I call out.

“Yes?” His answer is a question, but I pretend I didn’t notice the inflection in his voice as I dump a teaspoon of sugar into his mug. I do the same for mine, take a deep breath and one fortifying gulp of my calming tea, and walk back to the couch.

I hand Ruben his mug and he smiles at it again, like he’s received the best gift in the world, instead of a gas station trinket.

Axley has resorted to throwing his food now. That’s his way of telling me he’s done. I wipe Axley and the floor down and then bring him back with me to the sofa. I sit, pressing my side against the arm of the sofa in hopes that my thigh will not have to touch Ruben’s, but my plan doesn’t quite work. Whose idea was it for me to only get one tiny sofa? Once the holidays are over, the first thing I’m going to buy is a big sectional with plenty of room for a crowd.

Axley smells like mashed potatoes, but thanks to his industrial bib, his clothes stayed mostly clean. This whole evening feels like I’m living in an alternate reality where Ruben was just a kid from my high school and not the face of Palmer Hotels. It’s almost like the past five years of silence never happened. Like we lost touch a little during the college years, and when I came back to work for his company, the Redwoods project never happened. We kept meeting for coffee here and there, chatting in hallways when we saw each other and exchanging memes. Ruben never got tired of me or defensive about my ideas and we were just…us.

And in this dream reality, this Christmas Eve feels like a turning point—an evening where we both realize we want to share more than just memes with each other.

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