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When Chris reappeared, he was weighed down with our stuff. He’d grabbed everything he could carry.
“You didn’t have to bring it all up,” I told him as he set our stuff by the door.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t sure what you’d need.”
Twenty minutes and three promises that I wouldn’t go anywhere later, and Noelle was snoring happily. I checked she was okay before going back out to the living area to find Chris standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter drinking a beer.
“Want one?” he offered, holding up the bottle.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Maybe. But do you want one?”
“Sure. Why not? Thanks.”
Chris grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap. With the sound of the hiss echoing around the room, I took a seat at the kitchen counter.
Beer wasn’t my favorite. I took a sip and tried not to gag. I was usually a vodka soda girl, but I was trying to be hospitable.
“You don't have to drink it,” Chris told me. “The way you’re screwing your face up, I know you don’t like it.”
“It’s fine,” I gritted out, hating how transparent I was.
Chris shook his head. He didn’t believe me but was letting me off the hook. “Is Noelle okay?” he asked, nodding toward the bedroom door.
“She’ll be fine,” I assured him.
Noelle was tough. She mightn’t like it, but she’d get through it. We always did.
“So now we’re here, tell me, Chris, how bad is it?” I dared to ask.
He looked at me, and I felt my body heat under his gaze.
“How bad is what? Your car? The storm?”
“All of it.”
He took a long pull from his beer before setting it down on the counter and moving to the fridge. When he pulled out a frozen pizza, he tossed it in the oven. “Sorry. I haven’t had a chance to eat yet.”
“Don’t apologize! I’m the one invading your space. Do what you need,” I offered, walking over to the window and staring out into the darkness. It was a mess out there. The storm was still gathering strength. Worry gnawed at me but I could do nothing about it, not tonight anyway.
Chris and I spent a couple of hours sitting on the couch, sharing pizza, and chatting about the world around us. When I asked him about his Christmas tree, he grimaced.
“Christmas isn’t something I celebrate,” he replied, his answer short and clipped.
Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t want to push. Instead, I wished him good night and went to bed. Sliding beneath the sheets, his scent lingered on the pillows. It had been a long time since I’d been close to a man, and right now, the smell alone was making me giddy.
I forced the thought from my mind, snuggled down next to Noelle, and let sleep drag me under.
I woke up with a face full of hair, no blanket, and a foot in my stomach. Noelle was a crazy sleeper, and if I never had to share a bed with her another night in my life, I’d be fine with that.
Carefully, I slipped out trying not to wake her. Yesterday had been a big day—for both of us—and it was still early. At least I thought it was. It was dark with the heavy blackout curtains covering the windows.
After using the bathroom, I snuck into the main living area, surprised to see it deserted. I’d assumed Chris was still asleep on the couch, something I felt guilty about.“Hello? Chris?” Icalled out quietly, looking around his apartment, but he wasn’t to be seen.
With Noelle still asleep and five minutes to myself, I padded into the kitchen and made myself coffee. You could tell Chris lived alone. Opening the fridge, it was almost completely bare. A tub of butter, half a block of cheese, a bottle of ketchup, and a few beers. No food. No fruit. No creamer for my coffee. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and I poured myself a cup. It was strong and black and nasty, but I choked it down.
Just as I finished, sure that the bitter brew had put hair on my chest, the door opened with a whoosh of icy cold wind and Chris stomped through. He was dressed as if he was going sledding. A heavy winter coat, gloves, beanie, and big boots.
