Chapter 28

I knew something wasn't quite right even before I opened my eyes. My joints ached and my body felt stiff, like it had the last few times I'd fallen asleep and spent the night on the couch. Only this time was slightly different. It didn't feel like I was curled up on the cushions, but rather propped up against something else. Something soft and warm. Something that smelled like evergreen.

My eyes popped open.

The front room was once again bathed in the muted gray light of morning, the normally cheery beige furniture appearing dull and colorless. How I longed for summer, when I would wake up to bright sunlight streaming through my windows and the birds cheerfully chirping to announce the dawn of a new day.

Jake stirred beside me, stretching out his arms and legs, before he opened his eyes and gazed wonderingly around the room. They lit up when they centered on me, his lips pulling into a sheepish grin.

"Good morning."

"Morning," I replied.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he confessed, "but holding you was so exquisite, I just couldn't let you go."

"I'm glad you didn't."

We sat there for a few more minutes, quietly enjoying the feel of our bodies pressed together before he tapped me lightly on the side of my thigh and motioned for me to scoot over so he could stand up. "As much as I don't want this to end, I'm afraid nature calls. Could you kindly point me in the direction of your bathroom?"

"Oh! Yeah. It's up the stairs, to the right."

"Thanks. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

While he was gone, I got up and stretched from side to side to work out the kinks in my sore muscles. After that, I folded the quilt and put it back on the top of the cedar chest, then went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He reappeared a few minutes later, looking slightly more refreshed.

"I just had an idea," he said, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. "Let's go out to breakfast. My treat."

My stomach growled in response. "I like that idea."

Jake smacked his hands together. "Great!"

I dumped out the water I was going to use to fill up the coffee maker, placed the lid back on the coffee grounds, and dusted my hands off. "Give me a sec to change and put my hair up, and then we can go."

"Okay," he nodded.

I hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room. I didn't have time to shower, so I just grabbed a pair of black leggings from my dresser and yanked a black long-sleeved shirt and a beige puffer vest off their hangers in my closet. Then I slipped on a pair of black sneakers, pulled my hair into a stumpy ponytail, and finished off my lazy Sunday look with a quick swipe of pink lip gloss.

Jake was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. He smiled appreciatively when I reached the landing.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yep."

He picked up his coat and car keys, pausing to hand me my own coat with a pointed glare.

Taking it from him with an exaggerated eyeroll, I muttered, "It was one time!"

"Mm-hm," he grunted, and we both laughed.

Unfortunately, the rising of the morning sun did nothing to dispel the fog that had settled in last night. If anything, visibility had worsened since we'd come back from the cemetery.

"Are you sure you want to go out in this?" I asked uncertainly.

"To spend some time with you? Absolutely."

I was about to argue that we could accomplish the same thing by staying in, but I stopped myself. Falling asleep in his arms was already awkward enough with Erik there. True, I'd made the decision not to let his presence and my guilt bother me anymore, but it was a process. Baby steps.

I followed Jake to his car and waited inside as he scraped all the frost off his windows. While he was busy doing that, I took the opportunity to snoop around. You could tell so much about a person by the way they treated their car, and Jake was no different. Aside from the salt stains on the floor mats, his car was immaculate. Not a speck of dust was on the dashboard or instrument panels, no crumbs in the cup holders or garbage stuffed in the cubbies on the sides of his doors. The backseat was pristine and hardly looked like anyone had ever sat back there. I suddenly felt very self-conscious at the state of my own Jeep. While it wasn't cluttered, it had been a long time since I'd vacuumed and dusted the inside, and it was long overdue for a car wash.

The driver's side rear door opened. Jake tossed the snow scraper onto the floor, shut the door, and then opened his own door and hopped into the driver's seat.

"Brrr!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together and blowing into his cupped palms to warm them up. "I still can't believe you went out in this."

"Are you ever going to let me live that down?"

"Nope." He cast me a sidelong glance, his blue eyes twinkling. "But then again, I can't exactly be angry at you for it either. After all, we wouldn't be here, doing this right now if you'd been smart and stayed home in the first place."

I bit my lip and smiled, my cheeks reddening at his remark.

Jake chuckled and shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of my driveway. We rode down the street in companionable silence, with only the sounds of his engine revving slightly as he shifted gears for company. He offered me his hand and held mine the whole way, only letting go of it long enough to shift into the gear he needed.

Because the fog was so dense and murky, I had a hard time figuring out where we were going. I tried to pay attention to the turns he made but after a few I got lost and eventually gave up. It added a little bit of excitement to the outing, anyway, and I found myself leaning forward slightly in my seat in anticipation of seeing where we'd end up.

Fifteen minutes later we pulled into a crowded parking lot. Something about the place looked familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Jake got out and came around to my side to open the door, offering me his hand in assistance. I took it and he helped me up, using his other arm to circle around my waist and pull me tightly against his chest. Then he kissed me, long and deep, cupping the side of my cheek with his free hand.

"Sorry," he breathed once we'd parted. "I couldn't help myself any longer. I've been wanting to do that since last night." Then he took me by the hand again and led me through the back parking lot and around to the front of the building.

The nagging sense of familiarity finally hit home when we rounded the row of buildings and their façades came into view. He was taking me to the restaurant I'd gone into to inquire about Danica's whereabouts. The very same restaurant where Jake found me sitting outside at one of the little bistro tables, worrying about what to do about Erik. I briefly glanced over to Danica's shop. The shades on the windows were still drawn and the inside looked empty and dark.

"I thought we'd return to the place where we had our first pseudo-date," he grinned, bringing me out of my thoughts. "It wasn't our official first date, but it still holds a very special place in my memory all the same."

I smiled back, remembering how I was overcome with all the wonderful breakfast smells the minute I'd walked in. I couldn't wait to actually eat there.

We went in and the same poofy-haired hostess from before showed us to a booth in the back corner. She handed us our menus, promised that someone would be with us shortly, and moseyed back to her station up front. The restaurant was surprisingly busy, despite the inclement weather outside. A few minutes later, a man with salt-and-pepper gray hair and a black moustache appeared.

"Hi. My name's Dave. What can I get for you?"

Jake motioned for me to order first.

"Coffee," I blurted. "And the two-egg breakfast, over-medium, with bacon and hashbrowns."

"Two-egg breakfast…got it. Cream and sugar for your coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay, and for you?" He turned to Jake expectantly.

"I think I'll try the southwestern omelet, and can you add a side of bacon to that, please? Oh, and I'd like orange juice to drink."

"Absolutely." Dave jotted down our order on his little notepad and stuck the pencil behind his right ear. "I'll that those out to you in just a jiffy."

"Thanks," we both said simultaneously, then laughed.

"It was so nice of you to order me an extra side of bacon," I teased once Dave left.

"Now you listen here, missy," Jake said with mock firmness. "You even so much as think about touching my bacon and we're going to have words."

I gazed back at him defiantly, letting him know that I would absolutely be risking it.

"So," he drawled, "last night got me thinking."

"About what?"

"You mentioned that you get lonely and melancholy during the holidays. And that really hurt me right here," he said, pointing to his heart. "So, I wanted to ask you if you'd like to join me and my family for Thanksgiving dinner."

Meet his family? I blinked, trying to disguise how much that request made me nervous. Was our relationship ready for that? At that moment Dave returned with our drinks, and I busied myself with putting creamer and sugar into my coffee.

"Are you sure your mom would be okay with you bringing an extra guest to dinner at the last minute?"

"Of course! My mom would never turn away someone from her table. Especially not someone who would otherwise be alone on the holiday."

"Well, okay…," I hesitantly agreed. "But only if I can bring something. I think it's rude to show up empty-handed to something like that."

"Okay. I'll call Mom when I get home and tell her that you'll bring rolls."

"Rolls!" Clasping my hand to my chest, I pretended to be offended. "Rolls are what you assign someone you know can't cook!"

"Sweetheart," he replied, reaching across the table to catch my hand. My insides promptly melted into a warm puddle of goo. "I don't doubt your ability to cook. But have you seen your kitchen? Now, tell me honestly, do you think you could cook a complicated dish in there. Or even find a serving dish to put said meal in?"

I narrowed my eyes playfully. "Fine. I see your point."

Jake laughed and sat back so Dave could put his plate in front of him. He waited for Dave to set mine down and then grabbed the salt and pepper, sprinkling it over his omelet. "Besides, I'm sure you'll have plenty of other opportunities to show me your culinary skills."

My heart fluttered at his implication.

We dug into our meals, filling the spaces in between bites with light-hearted random banter and one lame attempt from me to steal a slice of his bacon, to which I was rewarded with quick swat of his hand. When we were done, he paid the check, despite my protests that it was my turn, and then he drove me home, holding my hand the whole way again.

When he pulled into my driveway once more, he turned to me expectantly.

"Last night was nice, but this morning was even better," he said.

"I agree," I whispered shyly. I know he wanted to kiss me again, but now that we were in front of my house, I wasn't so sure I was comfortable with that idea. Not with Erik there. So instead, I leaned over and planted a quick peck on his cheek. "Thanks for everything."

He looked somewhat disappointed, but smiled anyway and said, "You're welcome. I'll see you at the office tomorrow."

I nodded, got out, and waved to him as he backed out of the driveway.

With nothing else to do, I went into the kitchen and just stood there, staring at the mess I'd made, both literally and figuratively. Could Erik and I ever recover from this? Yes, we'd more or less worked out things out at the cemetery, but feelings of hurt and resentment weren't easy to just set aside. They lingered. Would we ever be able to work side-by-side again and have things be the way they used to be? I honestly wasn't sure and the sense of what I'd lost quickly overwhelmed me, extinguishing the lightheartedness I'd felt after this morning.

Feeling the sting of incoming tears, I picked up the broom to distract myself and began to sweep up the rest of the tile and mortar pieces.

XXX

I followed the sound of the broom whisking across the floor and watched from the doorway as Christine swept up the debris with brisk, almost frenzied movements. There was a determination behind every stroke that others would most likely dismiss as enthusiasm, but I knew better, for I had frequently used the same method as a way to disguise my own feelings of anger and inadequacy. Bury myself in work and my music, refusing to think about anything but that task at hand.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, and in doing so, the soles of my boots crunched against the small fragments that had gathered along the threshold, alerting her to my presence. She swiveled around to face me, not in alarm, but rather with trepidation. Our eyes locked but an instant, before hers dropped to the floor.

"Have I ruined this for us?" she asked me in a small voice, still not daring to look me directly in the eye. Her bottom lip quivered and despite her obvious struggle to keep herself composed, large tears crested her eyelids and coursed a jagged path down her pale cheeks.

I was at her side before I even knew what I was doing.

"You haven't ruined anything. Please don't cry, Christine," I whispered soothingly, using my thumb to carefully wipe away her tears. She closed her eyes, and I could have sworn I felt her press her cheek against my palm, just a little.

This was too much, this contact. What sweet, exquisite torture! Her touch was like a drug, and I, a willing and hopeless addict, powerless to resist. It made me lose track of my senses and I was suddenly overcome with the uncontrollable desire to pull her into my embrace and kiss away her fears, to prove to her that nothing could diminish my love for her.

Realizing that I was coming dangerously close to revealing too much, I pulled away and took the broom from her, desperate to find something else to occupy my hands and my thoughts before I lost complete control and did something that we'd both regret.

XXX

Later that night, I lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling as I recalled the way Erik's hand felt pressed against my cheek. Jake had basically done the same thing hours earlier, but it was Erik's touch I remembered. Erik's touch that left me feeling weak-kneed and tingly. And it was Erik's touch that I craved and longed to feel again.

Oh, Lord, I thought with a sigh as I grabbed my pillow and slammed it over my face. I'm in trouble.