Summary: When Bella's parents decide to go on a cruise for Christmas, her best friend Rose offers for her to stay at their cabin in Idaho for the holiday. It's a beautiful plan until her colleague shows up. Short story. AH, BPOV, olderward, lemon(s)
A/N: Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! I hope you're having the best, most relaxing time with your loved ones. Or, if it's a difficult time for you, I hope 6K+ words of this fluffy story will make your Christmas even a little easier.
Your thoughts are the absolute best Christmas gift! Thank you :)
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Hiding (the Christmas Criminal)
by Anton M.
2: Double-Booked
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Having known Rose and her family since elementary school, I was welcome to use their cabin as if it were my own. The cabin, hidden among the pines, was a single-floor wooden house with a terrace overlooking a half-frozen stream at the bottom of a valley. It was relatively old, from the sixties or seventies, had two bedrooms, a kitchen corner, a living room with a fireplace, and a newly added indoor bathroom. The mismatched cosiness of its interior had been undeniable even in the overwhelming clutter that had gathered through the decades, but when a new shed fixed the storage issue, the cabin served again as the family's beloved retreat.
Overjoyed to have made it without having to explain my presence in Idaho to any meddling relatives, I stocked up the fridge, carried extra logs to warm and dry on the side of the living room, and ensured that the jet pump delivered water to the sink and shower. I closed all doors to the living room to heat it up quicker, opened the chimney damper and spent the next half an hour starting a fire. Having succeeded, I did a little happy dance that turned into squealing in the cold as I tore off my jeans and changed into my snuggliest, warmest pajamas. So what if it was only two PM? Nobody was here, and I couldn't wait to snuggle up on the couch under layers of throws and lose myself in The Night Agent.
I'd barely finished the thought when the sound of pebbles under tires drew my attention. A beautiful, dark red Honda pulled up on the driveway next to my dusty truck.
Having helped countless of lost people back on the main road, I slid worn crocks on top of my woolen socks, slipped into a random brown puffer jacket, and put on the closest hat I could find, a yellow one with rabbit ears. Exiting the cabin, I ignored the biting cold and squinted at the dark car in the brightness of the sun.
A fit, broad-shouldered man in a pea coat stepped out of the car.
"It's easy to get lost here, but if you take two lefts and then a right when you see an old whitebark pine at the crossing, you'll be back in Featherville and from there you can follow Wood Creek Road south to the main road!"
The man lifted his aviators and squinted as he shut the car door and walked closer. His deep, attractive voice was tinged with surprise.
"Bella?"
The sun glaring off the snow felt almost as blinding as the shock in my system as my brain registered his voice and features. Mortified, I closed my ugly jacket and wished I could've erased the sunlight that drew attention to my rabbit ears and crocks.
Attractive.
"Edward," I whispered, breathless, almost knocked off my feet. "Hi! What are you… I'm just… what are you doing here?"
I couldn't escape that piercing, attentive gaze that wrapped around my heart before Edward tucked his aviators in his chest pocket and walked up to the porch. He looked at his car, back to the cabin, and ran his fingers through his hair.
It was surreal, seeing him in a random cabin's driveway in Idaho. Had he flown to Idaho just to spend his Christmas at a shit old cabin? The cabin was amazing, of course, but for a VP of Sales… he could afford better. So much better.
The vapor of his breath disappeared in the sunlight as he asked, "This is Rose's family's cabin, correct?"
"That's correct," I replied, feeling weirdly formal. He was my colleague, after all, and much higher on the food chain at that.
"Emmett invited me to spend my holiday here, but…" Edward gave me a faint smile that felt more disappointed than he was willing to show. "It's clear they double-booked us. Did you talk to him?"
"No. I spoke to Rose."
He let out a noncommittal, dissatisfied hum before he sighed and looked at the snow-covered mountains in the distance. Like so many other times he'd spoken with gentleness and calm in his voice, he said, "It's okay, Bella. I'll get a flight back. It's not a problem."
Dread and discomfort snuck up my spine as I realized I'd have to spend Christmas with my relatives after all. So much for getting time off to breathe and chill.
"No, it's— it's fine. If anyone should leave, it should be me. I mean, I'm from here. I can be in Ketchum in less than three hours. Just give me a moment to change and—"
"No. Don't leave on my account. Please." He took out his phone, probably intending to call Emmett, but I scoffed.
"If you're calling Emmett, he'll just apologize, ask you to give me the phone, apologize to me and ask me to leave," I told Edward, keeping my voice cheerier than I felt. "It's okay. Really. It's the obvious solution. You came all the way from New York to Idaho to stay here, and I have an entire family tree in a nearby town."
Edward tilted his head, assessing me. Man, why did I change out of my city clothes? I must've looked like a pine-goblin wrapped in wool.
"And yet, you clearly had no intention of joining your family," he replied, seeing through my words. "How long did you expect to stay here?"
My smile was sheepish. "A week."
I could tell by the way he shut his eyes and tilted his head back that he had similar intentions, but he only pocketed his phone and sighed. "I'll get back to New York. I'm sorry for disturbing you."
"No!" I protested. "Please don't. I'd feel horrible. My home is right here. At least come inside after the drive, drink some coffee or freshen up or something."
He agreed. I took off my outer layers and made sure I didn't have anything stuck in my teeth as he used the bathroom. Feeling nervous, I untied my messy pony tail, ran my fingers through my hair and pulled it over both shoulders. I was painfully aware of my attire, my bright red reindeer pajamas and gray knee-length woolen socks, but I could do nothing about it without alerting him to the fact that I cared what he thought of me.
With speed designed to distract me from the man's presence, I had washed, rinsed and turned on the old coffee machine when he emerged from the bathroom. He looked distinguished and surreal standing in the cozy old cabin in his dark jeans and a white sweater. (He'd set his pea coat and striped scarf on the backrest of a wicker chair.) His brown hair, speckled with white and usually combed to one side, stood in a mild disarray, and the stubble on his cheeks should've been illegal.
"I made coffee before I leave."
"Before I leave," he corrected softly, giving me goosebumps with the way he was eyeing my loose hair.
"Edward," I said with a voice as close to scolding as I thought I could get away with. "We went over this. I have an entire family tree here. I'll leave the cabin for you. I'll go."
"Why were you going to spend a week alone in a cabin near your family if you're so eager to join them now?" He sat across from me. With sharp alarm in his eyes, he asked, "Are they abusive?"
"No! No. It's just that… my parents went on a cruise for Christmas. The rest of my relatives, they have minefield opinions and endless energy and they'd want to fill my days with doing stuff for them and with them and take care of their kids, when, this year, I really just—" I stopped myself from complaining. "It's not important. I'm okay. I'll leave you to it."
"No, you won't," Edward said with a small, charming smile. "I refuse to ruin your respite. I'll head back to New York and that's the end of it."
I was not unaffected by the way his biceps flexed under his sweater as he crossed his arms, but I didn't budge in my opinion, and we continued to argue as we finished our coffee. He wasn't eager to book another (fancier) cabin more for the hassle than for the cost but he refused to let me return to my hometown just like I refused to allow him to drive back to Boise Airport in his rental car. And maybe it was the way his warm, amused gaze lingered on my hair that made me propose a solution.
"Well, since neither of us admits defeat—if you think you can suffer my presence here with you, the cabin does have two bedrooms, plus a bed in the living room."
The way Edward's eyes scanned over my body sent a flurry of warmth through me.
"Do you snore?"
I laughed. "Not that anyone's told me about. Are you bothered when people sleep in in the morning?"
"Not in the slightest. I'll be quiet as a mouse. Do you shower in the morning or the evening?"
"Evening, you?"
The corner of his mouth curled upwards. "It depends. Usually after lifting weights. Any deathly allergies?"
"None at all, you?"
"Swell up like a pufferfish with a bee sting but I doubt we'll encounter any in the dead of winter."
He gave me a panty-dropping smile that filled my stomach with butterflies. Quietly, he asked, "And you're sure you wouldn't mind having me here?"
Together, we carried his bags to the cabin. Except for food, which required rearranging the entire fridge, he traveled quite light, and we dropped his luggage in the living room next to mine until the cabin got warm enough for human habitation. The fire had heated the room up to 48 degrees, a great improvement from the degree above freezing that had welcomed me, but from experience, I knew better than to open the bedroom doors too soon. I stayed in the puffer jacket I'd found but replaced the bunny hat with my own.
I began to doubt my invitation when Edward went to one of the bedrooms to get changed. We got along well, but we knew each other superficially, as colleagues would, from polite small-talk at lunches and work events. It was insanity to stay at the cabin together, and I realized that having him here would make me self-conscious. The year and a half I'd worked with him, I'd always found him attractive—in that distant, put-the-knowledge-on-a-shelf kind of way—but after breaking up with Seth, I found myself attracted to the man, which opened a whole other can of worms.
With a jolt, I realized I'd just given up my vibrator. No way these walls would hide the sound and I'd have rather died than have had him knock on my door asking if everything was alright.
Ugh, my trusty old fingers would have to do the job.
Edward returned in powder blue sweatpants and a black T-shirt, and I marveled at his sheer fitness as he pulled a dark gray sweater with a reindeer over his head. I'd only ever seen Edward in suits and button-downs, and while they fit him like a glove, Edward in casual, homey attire was unexpectedly sexy.
His smile faded slowly when he misinterpreted my expression.
"It's okay if you've changed your mind, Bella."
I pulled hair out of my mouth.
"No, no!" I denied, unwilling to admit my sudden cold feet. But how would I survive two weeks with a man, my colleague, whose mere presence made my heart tingle? "I just have… I have a silly worry that I'm not sure I should share with a colleague."
Edward sat across from me.
"Don't share your worry with a colleague, then," he replied, matter-of-factly. "Share it with a friend."
I smiled as if scalding warmth hadn't just flooded my chest at his words.
"I'd like that." For a fraction of a second, I considered telling him about my vibrator problem, but as approachable as he was, he was still the damn VP of Sales. I didn't dare imagine his response if I'd told him I was concerned about him knowing about my masturbating habits. "As a friend to a friend… I'd like to ask… or say that, I'd intended to come here for a holiday, and while I'm technically available for the software guys for any emergencies, I just wanted to decompress and… go skating and marathon through a bunch of series and listen to Yann Tiersen and Arvo Pärt and Joe Hisaishi and all the other piano geniuses until my ears bleed and—"
"Bella," Edward interrupted, softly.
"And you're not my boss but you have the power to mess with my career if word gets out that I'm not maybe as serious about tech as I might imply at work events. I do keep an eye on what's happening in the software world, I promise, I was not lying about—"
"Bella," Edward interrupted, even softer, but the amused warning in his eyes made me take a breath and slow down.
"I'm just worried you won't think I'm serious about my job, or that I'm lying if I say at work that I code and read up about software in my free time. I do do that. I just—I just need a break is all. And I do not want to spend my vacation terrified you'd discover I don't always have GitHub open on my screen." I gave him a sheepish smile. "I guess what I'm asking is—if you could maybe not advertise to other VPs or the CTO that I'm—"
"Human?" Edward finished, eyes sparkling.
"I…" I grinned and scoffed. "Yeah, that works."
Smiling, Edward shook his head, but instead of replying, he got up and poured us both another cup of coffee. In a daze, I watched him add cream (but no sugar) in mine, and I was so blown away that the VP of Sales remembered how I liked my coffee that I nearly forgot about my worries. Edward motioned for us to sit on the couch closer to the fire, and the flames reflected in his eyes as he took a sip. Elbows on his knees, he looked over at me and gave me a bittersweet smile.
"I hate my job, Bella."
My jaw dropped open but I quickly shut my mouth. Edward stifled his smile.
"So how's that? Now you can trust me not to tell a single soul that I've seen you let your hair down." His gaze quite nearly caressed me. "Which is lovely. I like seeing you let your hair down."
"Literal or metaphorical?"
Edward leaned against the back of the couch. "Both."
I felt a bit breathless even if I hadn't quite recovered from the whiplash of his revelation.
"Thank you for—trusting me with that," I said carefully, sitting on my feet. "But, can I just say… you're so good at your job. Everyone loves you. I've had trainings where you've been upheld as the model employee."
His eyes glinted with humor but he just sipped his coffee and shrugged. "They're not mutually exclusive. The corporate world would rather not hear it, but one can be extremely good at a job they can't stand."
"Why do you hate it?"
"Corporate sales? Why do I hate corporate sales?" he repeated, incredulous. "Have you ever met a salesman whose eyes you didn't want to poke out?"
"With a fire poker!" I laughed. "But I have, actually. You're not like that."
"I'm not like that now," he corrected, smiling. "But I didn't tell you that to talk about myself. I just wanted you to know that… don't worry about it. I'm not the company police and would never imply that you have anything other than the most outstanding work ethic. So much so, in fact, that I think…"
Searching my eyes, Edward trailed off.
"What? What do you think?"
He sipped his coffee before giving me an embarrassed smile. "It's not my place."
"No!" I grinned. "If we're talking friend-to-friend, I want to hear what you have to say about me."
Edward trailed a line on the side of his mug, and his eyes were mischievous and apologetic when they locked with mine. "Even if I risk being kicked out of the cabin when I tell you that I know more about your breakup than what you've told me?"
I lowered my mug. "Emmett?"
"I was in the gym with him when Rose called to tell him you're staying over, but we'd all agreed to go out to eat that night, and…"
"And you all spent your evening discussing my breakup," I finished, knowing the royal gossipmongers that my friends were.
"I'm sorry, Bella."
"Eh," I waved him off. "It's fine. I've met them. So you were saying…?"
Looking a bit startled that I wasn't angry at his revelation, Edward rested his arm on top of the backrest and kept his fingers in his hair. "I'm not sure I want to risk having to take myself back to Boise."
"Oh my God you're killing me. Just tell me!" I grinned, facepalming. "Was it that bad? It must've been bad if you don't want to talk about it. Did you all agree that I was unfair and stupid and don't deserve to find true love—"
"Fuck no," Edward interrupted. "No, Bella. Of course not." He ran his fingers through his hair, gripped his neck and gave me a small smile. "No. What I wanted to say, was— In light of your breakup, I feel that you may be… overcorrecting."
"Overcorrecting?"
"You'll burn out if you continue the way you've been going. You twisted yourself into a pretzel just now, apologizing to me for not spending your vacation coding. Your fucking vacation, Bella. Promising me you do spend your evenings, working? There's nothing wrong with being ambitious, but… don't kill yourself over a company that wouldn't hesitate to drop you like a hot potato if it suited them. Even a good company is, at the end of the day, just a company, and maybe… maybe consider setting a lower standard for the software engineers. The way you're going now, they're starting to get scared of telling you about their weekend lest they seem less committed or less passionate than you."
My stomach dropped. "I'm… I'm not that bad, am I? I never make anyone feel bad for how they spend their time outside of work—"
"I know you don't," Edward said, compassionately. "But when's the last time you went to work and shared a stupid cat video or a funny meme? Anything to laugh about? The way you used to."
I couldn't remember.
"And how many work-related articles and videos have you shared on Slack this past year?"
Oh my God he was right.
I was overcorrecting.
Feeling thoroughly scolded, I avoided his eyes as I got up. "Thank you, I…" had a lot to think about. I hadn't set out to re-evaluate how much my silent work ethic might've been impacting those I worked with, but I was ashamed to admit that he was probably right. The fact that the software engineers hadn't joked around with me for the entire year spoke for itself. "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for," Edward replied passionately, getting up. "Nothing. There's nothing wrong with being the very definition of dedicated—nobody has ever had a single bad word to say about you—but don't set standards for yourself so high that burnout is inevitable. I'm telling you not because you've done anything wrong but because I'm worried. Okay?"
Too ashamed to meet his eyes, I stared at the silly reindeer on his sweater, but its head got closer until I was pressed against a strong, warm chest, and it took everything in me not to melt into a puddle of affection. His woodsy scent filled my head. I could feel Edward fingering my hair on my back, and the simple action played with my heartstrings.
"Most people overcorrect in response to big life events, Bella," he said, quietly, his breath blowing against the top of my hair. "You know what I did after my divorce was finalized?"
I felt like I could breathe a little easier in his compassion. "I hope it was just as glorious and dramatic as when you resigned from your job."
The smile was obvious in his voice. "I don't know about that, but I swore off women for good. Because, you see, you can't get hurt if you never allow yourself to fall in love."
"Flawless logic," I praised, squeeing inside at the way his voice wrapped around the words fall in love.
I could've stayed in his arms forever but we parted, and I made an effort not to linger in his personal space no matter how much I wanted to.
"And did it work?"
"At first," he replied, his voice a little gruff. "Until I… met someone, and she makes me want throw myself off a cliff all over again. Higher and stronger, just for good measure."
My stupid heart panged at his words. I shouldn't have expected a man like him to stay single for long, but a girl could dream, right?
Well, at least I had no reason to feel self-conscious around the man if his heart was already set on someone.
"She's lucky to have you."
"You think?" he asked, almost eagerly, with a nervous, affectionate edge in his tone—all the cute little signs of someone falling in love.
I hid my aching chest behind a smile.
"I'm positive." I nudged his arm to lighten the mood. "But how do you know I wouldn't tell the executives your juicy secret?"
Edward's eyes glinted with joy. "I bring in so much money I could probably take a dump on my table and they'd compliment me on my new tie."
I laughed. What would it be like to have that level of job security? It was unreal.
For the next hour, we did our thing. I took out the clothes I wanted to wear the next day, my toiletry bag, and, of course, my laptop. Edward got shaved in the bathroom while I sat around the kitchen table with my laptop but only stared at the main menu of Netflix until I began to chew on the ends of my hair. Edward's words kept running through my mind. Had I become a bore to work with? Did he find me uptight and dull? I'd thought we'd almost become work friends, laughing at lunch and sharing inside jokes, but what if that was wishful thinking and he was only being superficially friendly? The thought depressed me. It shouldn't have (in the light of him having met someone), but I hated that I couldn't trust my own perception of our relationship.
I couldn't even fight him on his assessment. I had overcorrected, but why? Was I trying to convince myself that I was ambitious or that I was happy? Or that I was happy, being ambitious? I might've not drank the company kool-aid but I'd certainly began sipping the corporate kool-aid, and it was a tough truth to hear.
"I shouldn't have told you," Edward said, squeezing my shoulder before he sat across from me and dropped a few strips of slim, beige bandages on the table. He looked younger and more angular with his newly shaved cheeks.
"I gave you no choice, and I'm glad you did." Attempting a smile, I pulled hair from my mouth. "But tell me, truthfully, do you dread the days we have meetings together? Am I just a soulless drone you've been made to suffer?"
"Fuck no." Scoffing and shaking his head, Edward got up to lean against the table beside me. Gently pushing my chin up with his knuckles, he made me look him in the eyes, and I felt a burst of affection in his care. "I hate that I've made you rewrite history, but pay attention: you are neither soulless nor are you a drone. The days we have meetings together are easily my favorite. You're one of the main reason's I've stayed in the company."
"Wow, I really made you feel bad," I replied, trying to ease the tension. "That's sweet but—"
"True. True is the word you're looking for."
His hand dropped from my chin but the indecipherable emotion in his gaze warmed my skin just as his fingers had. I didn't know how to express how touched I was, but Edward didn't seem to require words as he, once again, sat across from me. He began to tie his pinkie and ring finger to his middle finger, and I observed the action in silence before he caught my curious gaze and lifted his right hand.
"Buddy taping," he explained. "I learned it as a teenager in Brazilian jujitsu. It's often used when a digit hasn't fully healed. Mine have no chance of getting better anymore but it protects my useless fingers from injury."
I'd always steered clear from asking the question outright—what happened to his fingers? My curiosity felt insensitive and I was sure everyone within a ten mile radius was always asking the question, but that hadn't stopped me from wanting to know.
"I've never dared to ask," I admitted.
Edward stifled a smile. "I think you just broke a record. Nobody's ever lasted a year and a half of acquaintance without asking."
"I'm—sorry," I stuttered, a bit amazed that he'd remembered I'd never asked. "I'm sure it's annoying. You don't have to tell me."
He smiled. "It's not a great secret. I'm assuming you've at least heard the rumors in the company?"
Ashamed, I nodded, but Edward only grinned in response.
"They got caught in a farm machine when I was seven. We were in Ireland for my grandparents' golden wedding anniversary, I was playing with some of the neighbors' kids near Limerick and… I was stupid and careless. The meter rollers of a seeder rig tore them off. I was extremely lucky."
I cringed, shuddering to imagine it. "Jesus."
"It would've been better had it been a clean cut, but… the doctors did their best and, for a while, we all hoped I'd get most of my dexterity and grip strength back. But we went back to Maputo and, being the restless kid I was, I managed to fall off a bushwillow while playing with the local kids. Tore the whole thing wide open and had another set of surgeries. I've had multiple hand therapists help me but… after five years of learning to write with my left hand and not much progress in my right, we gave up."
"Please great aunt Betty me… where is Maputo?"
Edward grinned. "Capital of Mozambique in East Africa. My mother was deputy head of mission stationed at the embassy at the time."
I suppressed the flood of questions about his fascinating upbringing, hoping to store them for later, and asked, "Do you need help tying the ends?"
"Might get it done quicker if you don't mind."
He rested his arm across the table, palm up, holding the ends of his bandages, and I observed the outline of a wide, messy scar just where his two fingers attached to his palm. His hands were cold. Old adhesive residue covered the two fingers in question, probably from another buddy taping, and I adored feeling his gaze on my face as I silently finished the task.
Instead of letting go, I gently held his two fingers between mine.
"Can I ask…?"
"Anything," he replied quietly. "Whatever you wish."
"I know you can't move them much but can you feel pressure? Pain? Temperature?"
"I can feel pressure. Less pain than I'd like, and in the last few years I've been struggling with cold sensitivity. Can't feel heat properly, either. Most of the time it's like they don't exist, until I'm annoyed again that they don't do something I want them to do."
"Less pain than you'd like?"
"I can burn them easily without noticing," Edward clarified, pointing at the smooth surface of the outside of his pinkie finger. "Not very convenient if the first time you notice your skin melting is when you can smell it."
"Jesus," I whispered. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. Only happened twice."
Oh yeah. That makes me feel better.
He got up and changed into a sleek-looking black sports jacket, a fleece hat, and put on custom leather gloves I'd seen before. The gloves separated his fingers except the three he'd taped together. Having dressed for the weather, Edward opened the fridge door and searched it, asking, "Anything you hate to eat?"
"Liver. Anchovies. Avocados." I paused, thinking. "That's it, really."
"Avocados?" Edward repeated, aghast, dramatically covering his heart with his hand. "Oh, that hurts." I grinned at his antics, and he winked at me. "But how many homes must you own now, not spending all that money on avocado toast?"
I grinned. "You'll never believe this one trick a millennial used to become a real estate tycoon."
Edward laughed. Still smiling, he absent-mindedly opened the freezer. "And do you like spicy food?"
"You're in Idaho, Edward. Ketchup, salt and pepper is as exotic as it gets."
He turned his head, blinking at me in horror. "No," he denied. "Tell me that's not true."
"You might even find a true believer who squeezes ketchup on their steak."
"Chest pain," Edward replied, dramatically clutching his chest. "I believe a heart attack is imminent."
Laughing, I had to slap my laptop closed because Edward being fake-dramatic might've been the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.
"We may not be able to be friends after all," Edward said, solemnly, but I didn't get to quip a response because his expression turned into one of genuine confusion after he'd opened the lowest drawer in the freezer. "Bella. Why are there two beautifully packaged potatoes wasting space in the freezer?"
I would've laughed had I not already been in stitches. I briefly considered lying and telling him that here in Idaho, we loved our potatoes so much that two holy potatoes were picked for each household to bless the family in the freezer, but I was worried that he might've believed me and ran for the hills.
"Those are my ice cream potatoes."
Edward stared at me blankly. "Your ice cream… potatoes?"
"That's correct."
"Please tell me that's not half-potato, half-ice cream."
"But how else could you tell a true Idahoan from a fake one if not for their ability to eat a baked potato stuffed with ice cream?"
Edward's face was full of such disgust that I just had to laugh. "Relax. Those are, in fact, two ice cream desserts dressed up like potatoes. The toppings must've fallen off or they would've been a dead giveaway."
Shaking his head, he shut the freezer and returned to the contents of the fridge. Once he'd confirmed that I did, in fact, adore spicy food (fourteen years in New York did that to a person), Edward took out some ingredients.
"Cooking is my favorite stress release, so you are not to help. I will hear no arguments."
It took all my willpower not to ask him to do me against the wall.
I did argue against him leaving the cabin to split firewood. We had enough for a few days, the daylight would only last for another hour, and I'd already planned to do it the next day, but the man didn't listen. I worried that he might've been a city boy overestimating his abilities (I'd seen it before), but when I peeked outside the cabin, I found him setting log after log on a stump, splitting them, and throwing the split ones in a pile. Visible vapor surrounded his face as he breathed, and he wore bluetooth headphones. He looked mesmerizing, stylishly surreal against the backdrop of the shed and the forest, and I had to tear my eyes from the sight not to be too creepy.
Meanwhile, I kept the fire blazing, listened to Joe Hisaishi and handled the world's most annoying task of cutting and filing my nails. I was glad I'd had a sandwich at the airport or I would've betrayed Edward and snacked on the fridge's contents. Attaching the plugs of old Christmas lights to sockets, I lit up the ceiling and corners of the living room with warm, mismatched lights. Together with the fireplace, the distant thumps of Edward's firewood splitting and the endless snow outside, I had no choice but to replace my beloved piano with Frank Sinatra's Christmas songs, and I felt unexpectedly grateful to have Edward here. His presence continued to be surreal enough that I nearly had to pinch myself.
The man himself returned to the tropical temperature of the living room (a whopping 60 degrees now) just as I realized I'd promised to find Rose's old high school clothes in the shed, so we switched places. The shed's bright LED sensor lights brightened the entire yard in the twilight, and I felt like I checked half the storage boxes until I found the one she'd described. Carrying it inside, I was hit over the head with the most delicious, mouth-watering smell and a sight that made my heart skip a beat.
Singing along to Sinatra's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Edward wore an old, patched red apron on top of his black T-shirt. The apron was too small for his large frame. His muscles flexed as he swayed and scooped scallions in an empty bowl in a row of now-empty bowls. Hearing the door slam shut, he turned, and the way his smile brightened filled me with affection. Tiny beads of sweat covered his forehead.
With electric warmth in his eyes, he carefully brought me a teaspoon of the sauce he was simmering.
"Mie goreng with prawns," he explained, as if those words meant anything to me. Hands full, I tasted it, and got caught in his gaze when I moaned. It was as delicious as it smelled.
"That's not fair," I complained, setting down my cold storage box.
"What's not fair?" he asked, continuing to hum along with Sinatra as he returned to the kitchen corner.
I unzipped (not) my jacket and took it off. "You can't expect to make mouth-watering cuisine for me with a lady-love waiting for you in New York."
"Lady-love?" Edward repeated, turning around, eyes alight with some indistinguishable emotion.
"The girl you told me about. I bet she's drop-dead gorgeous but I'm afraid I'm legally obliged to demand a fair trial after tasting your food." I grinned, half-hoping and half-dreading he'd think I was joking.
Edward searched my eyes with such incomprehensible lightness and warmth in his eyes I very nearly squirmed in his gaze, but thankfully I didn't think he actually heard me because he only smiled as if he had an inside joke and kissed my temple.
Breathless and squeeing inside, I set the table, determined to quit my skincare routine because no way was I ever washing off Edward's lips on my skin.
...