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1
Betsy
How do you tell your husband in name only that you’d really rather like to remove that qualifier? That you are old enough to know your own mind and no, despite the fourteen-year age gap, he’s definitely not too old?
Nevermind, it’s probably too late for suggestions anyway because my rideshare is about ten minutes away from ‘our house’. I changed my flight at the last minute so I could surprise Heath and spare him a trip to the airport in the middle of his workday. Which he will probably pout about, regardless. It’s Christmas break, but I managed to graduate a full semester early so I won’t be going back. It remains to be seen how long I’m staying here, though.
I pay the driver and carefully tuck the ends of my long red winter coat so the hem won’t drag in the mud by the curb. This is it. Although if I timed this right, Heath will be off at his book club for several hours. I’m not silly enough to think he won’t notice I’m here the instant he steps in the door, probably long before. Still, I should have a few hours to get things organized and overthink my plan at least one more time.
I press the keycode into the front door lock and breathe a sigh of relief when it unlocks. Heathprobablywould remember to tell me if he changed the code but… out of sight, out of mind. I give myself a quick minute to appreciate the wreath I made up last year, entirely of weatherproof ornaments in green and pink. I love red but sometimes it’s nice to get a slight variation on the theme.
Inside, my room is made up and waiting. There’s a silly smile on my face as I take in the military-precise fold of the sheet over the top edge of the duvet. Heath always goes out of his way to make sure I feel like I have a home to come back to. I’d only like it better if I was dropping my suitcase in the room at the end of the hall. I slip my coat off, laying it on the bed to air dry and head to the kitchen for a cup of tea.
A haphazardly decorated tree in the corner of the living room widens my smile into a grin. I guess the military doesn’t train on Christmas tree precision. Either that or Heath ran out of time and said to hell with it, tossing ornaments at it until they stuck. I know perfectly well that the tree is for me. If I told him I had other plans and wasn’t coming for the holiday, that area of the living room would hold a stack of romance novels. The same books that are now hurriedly stuffed into the cupboard over the refrigerator because Heath thinks I’m too young to read them.
Honestly, that just makes it more fun to grab the stepstool and pick out my bedtime reading material from his stash. I can’t believe he doesn’t know I do that. But maybe he’s just going for plausible deniability?
I take my tea with me back to my bedroom. I want to get my big reveal set up before he gets back. I unzip my suitcase and take out all the components. There are a lot of things I need to explain to Heath, but they’re all sort of circular, chicken and egg things. So I decided to let fate figure that part out. Each confession is carefully contained in a little box I got from the dollar store and all of them are going in the Christmas stocking I embroidered while sitting quietly in my dorm room on Friday nights.
I’m hoping curiosity gets the better of him and he’s willing to dive in before Christmas morning. To encourage that, I place a miniature Santa holding the message Open Now!right on top. I carefully hang the stocking on the mantel where he can’t possibly miss it and then retreat to my bedroom. I want lights out long before he gets back to the house.
Just in case, though, I change into cute pajamas rather than my usual shorts and t-shirt. These aren’t overly sexy, but they fit well and have an adorable holly pattern. It’s a small but important part in Operation Get Heath to See Me as a Grownup.
I hit the lights and crawl between the tightly tucked sheets. I’m not too surprised to find my ears straining for sounds by the front door instead of drifting off. Eventually, though, my mind shifts to other things and my tired body takes over.
Heath
“Ainsley, how come you’ve never had your story?” North asks out of the blue as we wrap up a rather heated discussion on the latest mafia romance. Half the group thinks it too unrealistic to be of interest and the other half says that’swhyit’s a good read. So it takes me a minute to switch mental gears. I shrug and send him a small smirk. “Don’t need one?”
He snorts in disbelief. “You’re here. All the married guys are out doing last minute Christmas shopping.”
“Are you seriously saying you’d rather be doing that?” I ask archly. Nobody would. And I’d prefer not to tell the whole world that I am actually married. To my best friend’s little sister, who I promised I would look after if anything happened to him. Unfortunately, it did and since she had just turned eighteen when he was killed, I married her. That way, she has insurance and a college education and a place to call home. But I don’t want that to be a blight on her life, so we tell everyone we’re family and leave it at that.
I’ve already told Betsy that she’s free in all other ways to be a typical college student and young adult. When she finds the guy she wants to marry for real, we’ll sit down and figure out the paperwork. I have to say she didn’t exactly seem thrilled about that. But I put it down to her brother’s death and being suddenly married to a stranger at eighteen. Still, I’ve done my best to make sure she feels like she’s got a home with me. A place to feel safe and not be a perennial guest. Someplace she can always bolt to if life gets hard.
“I’m good, North. Why are you asking? No luck with your love life?”
He blusters and snarls as we put his house back to rights. It was a small group tonight so there aren’t that many chairs to be returned to their original locations. When North finishes stomping around, he finally says quietly, “What if she’s not out there? Anywhere?”
I try to remember the details of his story, but ithasbeen a while. “Then you keep looking. There are how many billions of people on this planet, Sam? And I guarantee you haven’t even crossed paths with one percent of them.”
That perks him up. “You’re right. The holidays always bring me down a little.”
“Hey, why don’t you come by my place then on Christmas? It’s just me and Betsy, so I’m sure she’d rather have another ugly face to look at.”
He tilts his head to one side, thinking that over, and then gives a slow nod. “Betsy is your niece?”
“She’s family,” I say firmly, not about to be drawn further. North’s eyes narrow in suspicion, but of what I have no idea.
“She single?” he asks pointedly.
“Not to you,” I retort back just as quickly. He grins and gives me a brief salute as I walk out the door.
2
Heath
I can feel something different about the house as soon as I pull into the garage. It’s not ominous, more anticipatory, still I take extra precautions before entering. Including circling the perimeter after exiting from the garage. Everything is quiet. The curtain in Betsy’s room is slightly askew, which clues me in. She must have come back early and not bothered to tell me.
