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Our Best Selves Chapter Twenty-one
Somewhere between talking menu options and tossing out possible activities for Christmas Eve – so far he's narrowed it down to holiday laser tag around the loft, card games, a reprisal of his mother's production of The Nutcracker, and caroling by the piano – he realizes his girlfriend has gone from engaged in the conversation to staring blankly out the window behind her couch, her fingers wrapped around her mother's ring.
"Kate?" he asks, nudging her with his elbow. "What do you think?"
"Hmm?" She turns, guilt flaring in her eyes. "Sorry, sorry, I… whatever you want, babe. Works for me."
"It's your Christmas too," he reminds her, watching her back straighten. She exhales a moment later, dropping her shoulders, shaking her head.
"It's the first time in years that you and Alexis have been on good terms. I want you to do what you guys want to do. What you used to do. Don't worry about me."
Rick frowns. "That… what's going on, Kate?"
"Nothing," she says, sliding closer. Her cheek lands on his shoulder, hiding her face from his view. "Long day, that's all."
Well, that he can agree with; they'd been called to a grotesque crime scene well before dawn, had worked through lunch and dinner, and only trudged home an hour ago with soggy, cold take out in their hands. Still, she had seemed mostly fine before, tired but fine. She'd only tuned him out when he started to talk about the holiday, but maybe it is just the day catching up with her.
His fingers slip through her hair, rubbing gentle circles against her scalp. "We'll get the guy tomorrow," he promises, thinking back to the frustration that had started to line her mouth when the case stalled.
Kate sighs. "Yeah. Hopefully."
"Want to watch a movie?" he offers, moving to massage her neck as well. "Something mindless?"
His girlfriend hums, sinking deeper into his shoulder. "I don't think I can stay awake for two hours to watch something stupid."
"Something not mindless then?" he suggests, feeling her chest shake with her chuckle.
"No movie tonight, Rick," she says, lifting her head, offering her mouth to him. He doesn't need to be told twice, pressing a kiss to her lips that has her squirming against him.
"No movie," he agrees, breathless. "More kissing?"
That earns him a smile. "Definitely more kissing," Kate agrees, holding his cheek. "Among other things."
"I like other things too," he murmurs, sliding his hands under the loose t-shirt she wears, eager for the softness of her skin against his palms.
It's only after she loses the shirt entirely, straddles him, and tugs his lip into her mouth that he realizes she kind of seduced him into tabling the talk of Christmas for the time being.
A few days later, they're strolling through a grocery store for dinner items when he asks her again if there's anything she'd like to put on the menu for Christmas. He watches in surprise as her shoulders go rigid and her face blanks for a split-second before she smiles it away.
"I, no. No, there's nothing special I want. Whatever you were thinking is fine."
There it is again, the brush off. Last time it was "whatever you want," and now it's "fine."
"You don't exactly seem excited about this," he says, watching her hand brush her mother's ring through her shirt. She touches it when she's thinking sometimes, but he can't help but wonder if she realizes how often she's reached for it recently.
"No, it's not –" she drops her hand, swallowing. "What does Alexis like?"
"What do you like?" he counters, touching her elbow to keep her from continuing down the bread aisle ahead of him. "I'm cooking plenty for Alexis, but I want to know what you want to eat at Christmas dinner."
Kate sighs. "I don't know, Rick. I haven't given it much thought. Green beans, maybe?"
Green beans he can work with, though that's kind of a mundane answer. Maybe he'll be able to get something else out of her now that the ball is rolling. "What else? What do you usually have for dinner? Or dessert?"
Her jaw tightens, telling him he's unintentionally struck a nerve. "I don't," she says, simple and clipped.
She slips away, taking the basket from his hand before he has the chance to stop her. Rick follows her, catching up just as she tosses a package of Naan on top of their other ingredients.
"What do you mean?" he asks, crowding behind her, closer than she likes, but there are other people within a few feet of them and he wants this conversation to stay between them as much as possible.
"Rick," she sighs. "I don't want to talk about this right now."
"Well we don't exactly have a lot of time to talk about it, Christmas is in just over two weeks."
"Then we'll talk about it in a week," she says, spinning toward the front of the store, obvious in her attempts to evade him. "I don't even know if I'll be able to do Christmas this year."
He stares at her back. "You don't know if you'll be able to? You're the captain; of course you can! You did last year. Besides, you can't not be there: I already invited your dad."
Kate whirls, her eyes flashing hard emerald under the lights. "You did what?"
Rick's steps slow, but he doesn't stop. "It's Christmas. I invited your dad to family dinner."
"Without even asking me?"
"I just assumed–" he begins, thinking back to the call he'd made after Thanksgiving.
"Well you shouldn't have," she snaps, cutting him off. "Because my dad and I have – we do different things on Christmas."
He exhales. "Kate–"
"No," she cuts him off. "I know this year is special for you, Rick, and I'm so happy that it is, but Christmas is different for me and my dad. You shouldn't have gone to him without talking to me first."
"I would've loved to have talked to you first, Kate, but you won't talk to me about Christmas at all. You've blown me off whenever I've tried. I brought it up before Thanksgiving, you told me to worry about that holiday first. I brought it up last week while we were at work, you had paperwork to do. I asked you the other night, you decided we should fool around instead. So when were you planning to talk to me? When would be a good time to discuss this?"
She sucks in a deep breath, shoving the basket into his hands. "Well it sure as hell isn't going to be tonight. I'm going home. Alone. Enjoy your dinner."
She stalks off without looking back.
"Kate!" he calls after her, momentarily forgetting his desire to avoid making a scene. As it is, a small audience has gathered as they've hissed at one another beside an end-cap of saltine crackers.
Dropping the basket, he skirts his way past other shoppers and out the door. Once he's on the sidewalk, his shoulders drop; his girlfriend is nowhere to be found. He doesn't even see the top of her head somewhere in the crowd. Damn it, she's fast.
Fishing his phone from his pocket, he debates sending her a text, but he suspects it'll go unread until she cools down. A phone call will get sent straight to voicemail at this point, too.
They've had other fights before, bigger fights even, but with the sound of a bell ringer in the distance and the strains of Christmas music coming from inside the store, somehow this one feels different.
Had calling her dad about Christmas dinner been that wrong? He's called Jim before, he's even invited Jim to things before, so how can Christmas be off limits? And how is this Christmas so much different from last Christmas, where they spent the day wrapped in each other, eating a low-key dinner with his mother?
Unless she… unless he's missed other signs, other signals, that point to it being more than just Christmas she isn't feeling anymore? Maybe keeping her distance is a signal of what's to come for their relationship?
His heart sinks even as he attempts to push the thought aside. He's being ridiculous. It's just a fight and a misunderstanding. Maybe she really doesn't care what they eat, maybe she just doesn't want to worry about Christmas just yet, maybe she does have to work this year since she didn't last year.
Whatever it is, it can't be the worst-case scenario he's imagining.
Can it?
He's standing at the stove, contemplating the tea kettle of all things when he hears Kate's key in the lock. She steps into the loft a moment later, her lip lodged firmly between her teeth, but she doesn't say a word as she slides out of her coat and knocks her Chucks from her feet by the door.
"Thought you said you were going home," he says for lack of anything better, only to cringe at how it sounds. "I would've saved you some dinner if I'd known," he adds in attempt at softening his words.
Kate shakes her head. "You're fine. I'm not all that hungry, to be honest. How was it? Dinner, I mean."
Rick lifts a shoulder. "Didn't make it. I left the store just after you did and stopped at Duane Reade for the shampoo I needed. Had leftovers instead."
"Ahh." She looks away, expanding her chest with a deep breath.
Rick takes the opportunity to study her, taking in the loose bun on her head, her favorite lounge pants, the maroon shirt she'd stolen from him last year. She clearly came over here after giving it some thought. Combining that with the downturn of her lips, the smudges of her make up around her eyes…
"I'm sorry," she says, turning back to him, catching him in his perusal. "I'm so sorry."
His guts roil with dread. Oh, he doesn't like where this is going. Not a bit.
"You were just being sweet and good and you, and I… I'm sorry."
"I," he starts, forcing himself to stand up straighter, hold his chin high. He loves this woman beyond reason, she's ignited a piece of his soul he'd once thought forever extinguished, but he can be brave, too, even if it means letting her have the first turn.
"This sounds stupid, but it's not you, it's–"
"Kate, stop." Apparently, his bravery only extends so far, and definitely not to hearing 'It's not you, it's me,' from the woman he's imagined asking to be his wife one day.
"–Christmas," she continues anyway, brow furrowing. "Christmas is hard for me, Rick. Really hard. And I thought I was…" she fumbles. "Last year made me – you made me think I was ready, but then this year you started talking about turning this place into a winter wonderland, and having a massive spread for dinner, and inviting my dad, and I…"
"Wait," he tries again, this time trying to make sense of what she is saying as her arms wrap progressively tighter around herself. Her fingers curl around her mother's ring once again. "You're not… just for the record, you're not breaking up with me?"
She looks up, dumbfounded. "What? No! Never. Oh, God, you thought – you think I'm breaking up with you? Over celebrating Christmas?"
He nods slowly, blinking when she releases a strangled, half-hysterical laugh. He lets himself go to her as her head thrashes from side to side, touching her shoulders with unsteady hands.
Kate steps into him, bracketing his chest with her arms, her face hiding in his neck. The touch loosens the knot in his chest, settles the stormy roll of his anxiety, and he bands his arms around her.
"Last year was only the third time since my mom died that I'd had Christmas, Rick," she confesses, touching her mouth to his skin. "The first time was the year after, it was just my dad and me, and we were… miserable. So just like we boxed up the decorations after she died, we did it again, only this time we left them there."
Oh, Kate. His head dips, bringing his ear closer to her mouth, making it easier for her to get through this.
"Every year after that, my dad has gone to his cabin for the holidays to get away from the city, and once I became a cop, I volunteered to work the Christmas shift to give everyone else the opportunity to spend time with their families."
"Sounds lonely," he murmurs before he can stop himself.
Kate hums, smoothing her hands over his back. "It could be at times. But there were times when it felt like I was a superhero, standing sentinel while the rest of the city took a moment to relax and find peace."
"Now that could be hot," he says, feeling her crack a smile. "You in a leather bodysuit, kicking ass and taking names. A Christmas avenging angel. Oh, I'd like to see that."
This time she does laugh, knocking a kiss along the column of his throat. "In your dreams."
"You've seen my life, Kate. My dreams come true."
She chuckles again, sobering a moment later.
"What was the second time?" he asks, cupping the back of her neck. "The second Christmas," he clarifies when she squirms to meet his eyes.
"After Montgomery – his wife invited me to spend the day with her and the kids. It was… they were like ghosts, Rick. Evelyn tried, but she told me later she thought maybe the next year they would just go on a cruise or something. Try to make new memories without everything of Roy hanging over them."
Her head lowers, tucking back into the haven of his neck. "And then last year with you. And it was good, it was so good. But it was just us and your mom, and we… kinda did our own thing. It wasn't like having Christmas thrown in my face."
"And this year, with Alexis coming home – plus me inviting your dad – feels more like the holiday you remember," he supplies, tightening his hold on her. "More like what you put away and avoid."
She nods. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have freaked out on you, or made you feel like I was going to break up with you," she adds, sounding more than a bit bewildered at the idea.
"Well I'm glad you're not," he murmurs. "I'm sorry I got caught up in it all. I didn't think about how hard it would be for you. Or for your dad."
"You didn't know. And I should've told you."
"Forgiven. Just tell me next time, please?"
She agrees quietly, lifting onto her toes to paint her lips over his, the kiss firm, resolute. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he says, palming her hip. Kate sucks in a breath, slipping her hand over the back of his head, keeping him close. "And I'll call your dad back and let him know there's no pressure if he'd rather not come. But I won't make it weird and like I'm rescinding the invitation, promise."
"What did he say when you asked?" she asks instead of an agreement, her curiosity obviously piqued.
"That it sounded good, and to let him know what to bring. He seemed excited."
Her eyes slip shut and he watches her face morph into an embarrassed grimace. "I am so sorry, Rick."
Dropping a kiss on her neck, he shakes his head. "You're protective of your father, Kate, especially around a painful time of year. I get that."
"Still." She touches his chin, pressing her mouth to his again. "I'll make it up to you."
There's a part of him that wants to ask if that includes coming to Christmas dinner, but he won't now that he knows what she deals with; there will be other years for him to lobby for making a new tradition, but not this time.
Which is why she surprises him when she curls her fingers the collar of his shirt and says she'll take the day off. She'll go in for the early part of Christmas Eve, but that night and Christmas day will be for him, them.
"Are you sure?" His fingers trail along her back. "Because Kate, you don't have to if it's going to be miserable for you. Neither does your dad."
Kate shakes her head. "It won't be. You won't let it be miserable for us."
She's right about that. "Very true," he says, nudging her nose with his. "I can always have my mother cause a scene and distract us if it gets tough."
His girlfriend laughs, looking up at him with soft eyes. "Okay. Now, can I make it up to you in a more immediate way?"
Rick pretends to think. "I could be persuaded."
"Allow me to make my case then." Kate grins, catching his mouth in a sharp kiss before taking a step back. His mouth opens to protest the loss of contact, but she hooks her fingers in his belt loops and tugs him toward his bedroom.
"Case made," he rumbles, reaching for her. "Make up sex me up, Kate."
She laughs, her nimble fingers already working at his clothes.
"Kate!" he calls, spilling from the elevator at the 12th precinct before the doors have even finished opening. Heads turn – many heads, at that – but he has eyes only for the captain's office and the woman scrambling into the bullpen.
"Castle?" she gawks, cringing as he nearly crashes into two of her officers. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" he swears, breaking into a smile. "Nothing at all. I just– excited. I'm excited."
His girlfriend laughs into her hand. "Okay, what's got you so excited? You weren't nearly this giddy when I left this morning."
He waves her off. "That's because it wasn't even daylight, Beckett. You left the house before dawn in the middle of January. Nobody should be giddy then."
"Mmm," she hums. "And now?"
He brandishes the file he'd slid under his coat to protect it from the cold, rainy day. "You remember that my publisher wanted to wait until the first few months of sales were in to make a decision about my next contract? Well, I went to Black Pawn today to look at the numbers."
Kate inhales sharply, her back straightening with it. "And?"
He thrusts the papers toward her, giving her just a half a second to consider what she's looking at before he cups her face in his hands and slants his mouth over hers. Kate puffs a laugh, more out of surprise than amusement he thinks, but doesn't push him away. Not until the first wolf whistle comes from a desk in Esposito's general direction.
"Three books, Kate," Rick says, watching her lick her lips. "They want at least three more Nikki Heat books, with the option to renegotiate more along the way."
Her face splits open with pride, joy, and more than a little love. Her arms wind around his shoulders, her lips coming to touch his ear. "That's amazing! Congratulations, babe. Stripper name or not, the book is fantastic."
He chuckles, lifting her off her feet for just a moment before allowing her stilettos to touch the floor once more. "Told you it would grow on you."
She rolls her eyes, but she's grinning anyway. "It hasn't, but I can at least admit that it fits."
"Uh huh. You can admit it to me, Kate. It's okay."
She snorts, smoothing her hands along his shoulders instead of arguing.
"But you know," he muses, "I'll need to make sure I'm keeping things fresh, research-wise. I wouldn't want to write using old procedure."
"No," she starts, looking up at him, her lips twitching, "we wouldn't want that. Guess that means you're going to continue to come in."
He nods, grateful she's playing along. "Three books, though; I could be around forever."
"Thought you were already going to be around forever, Castle," she drawls, but the light in her eyes tells him everything he needs to know.
They're planning the same thing for their future. Her rushed 'never' the night they'd fought about Christmas means exactly what he'd thought it meant.
Of course, she blinks her tell away a moment later and steps back, smoothing her hand over her jacket. "In that case, guess you should tell the boys they're babysitting for a little longer."
Rick grins. "Of course. And once I do that, may I take you out to dinner to revel in our good fortune?"
Kate shakes her head, nudging him into her office before his face can fall. "Not tonight, but you can order takeout from our favorite place, and we can eat it after we're done celebrating."
Unable to resist, he pulls her closer. "I like that idea, but I'll do you one better. I'll cook your favorite dinner after the festivities. After all, this is happening because of you, Kate. I should treat you."
She shakes her head, affection lifting her lips. "I didn't do anything."
His lips touch hers again, less frenzied than before, but no less passionate. Kate looks as dazed as he feels when he pulls away, which only makes his smile widen. "I'm gonna go shopping for the stuff. I'll see you at home."
He leaves her in her office with a grin on her face not even the fan of her fingers can hide.