Page 71 of Not Home Alone

With the blanket and thermos in my lap, I put one hand on her thigh. I can feel her tense up beneath my palm and then hesitantly lean into me the slightest bit. It’s a slow, smooth ride up to the summit. Snow below us, stars above. But it’s dark, empty, and quiet except for the clanking and creaking and electrical hum, and the breeze. That makes it exhilarating. I can tell she feels it too.

She takes in a shaky breath and stares ahead, shivering again. She’s probably not cold—she’s wearing a down puffer coat, scarf, and cashmere beanie—but I take it as an opportunity to wrap my arm around her. “Thank you,” she says. I give her shoulder a squeeze.

An owl hoots from not too far away, startling her. I haven’t seen her this wound up since she was ogling me in my underwear the night she got into town. I don’t really blame her. This outing isn’t for show. It’s just for us. I’m a little nervous too.

“Get ready to hop off,” I tell her, when we reach the unloading ramp at the summit. I raise the safety bar. “Just stand up when we hit the ramp.”

“Roger that!” She stands, wobbling a little as she takes her first steps.

Taking her hand, I lead her up the dimly lit path, past the lodge, to the deck that faces the town. Warm string lights outline the deck, but it’s dark enough to see the lights of Holly Grove beyond the darkened resort. We both stop in our tracks to take in the view, because it’s fucking breathtaking.

“Wow,” she whispers.

“Yeah.” It’s been a decade since I’ve been up here. I’d forgotten just how stunning the view is during the holidays.

She takes the blanket and thermos from me when I turn on the gas fire pit and pull two Adirondack chairs closer together, closer to the fire. Then I spread the blanket over one of the chairs, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Milady.” And I pour her a cup of hot toddy. Hot water, honey, lemon, and a generous amount of whiskey to warm her up.

“Thank you, Grant.” She sounds so genuinely grateful you’d think I’d just handed her the keys to the kingdom. “Really. This is so lovely.”

“It’s lovelier with you here.” That is, without a doubt, the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said, and I have no regrets. I was going to play classical Christmas music, but I don’t want to disturb the peace and quiet. So I lean back into my Adirondack chair with an exhale.

It really is beautiful. We have a panoramic view of the town. The Christmas lights on Main Street and the houses are twinkling. The stars above are twinkling. Merrily’s eyes are shining bright. I can’t really take credit for this resort or the town, but I feel strangely proud that I can share this with her.

She’s shaking her head. “I’ve never been up here at night. I’ve never seen this view of the Christmas lights. It’s perfect. You really used to come up here all by yourself?”

“You may not recall, but I was a moody fucker.”

“Was?” She laughs. “You mean up until an hour ago?”

“Something like that. How’s your hot toddy?”

“Highly flammable. But delicious. You aren’t going to have any?”

“Nah. I should keep a clear head.” I hold my breath for a second. “God, I can’t believe how quiet it is here.”

“Yeah. What’s your life like in New York? Like, the day-to-day of it?” she asks, taking another sip.

“Busy. I love New York City. I really do. The busyness makes sense as soon as you get there. And you forget what it’s like anywhere else. Traffic and honking and sirens make sense. Having meetings all day long makes sense. Going out all the time when you aren’t at work makes sense. Being highly ambitious is the only option when you live there. But I don’t know. Right now, at this very moment, my life in New York seems kind of insane. How’s life in Ann Arbor?”

She reaches her arm out, and I take her hand. “Same-same.” We both laugh. “High stakes world of Ann Arbor corporate events and all that.” She rolls her head side to side. “I mean, Ann Arbor is a really nice small city. I do like it. But if I’m being honest, I have been playing it safe with my job. Sometimes I’m allowed to get creative, and a lot of the skills I learned as a director have been put to use. When you pull off a great event that makes people happy it can be pretty exhilarating. But it’s rarely inspiring. And the truth is, I keep myself extra busy with work because if I didn’t, I’d realize how much I miss Holly Grove and my dad. And the life I dreamed of when I was younger.”

I glance over at her profile. She doesn’t seem to be disheartened at all, but god damn, I remember how she talked about wanting to be a theater director when she grew up. That night we rehearsed together. She was a beautiful dreamer, and I wanted her to have everything she wanted back then. I still want that for her right now. I think it scared me how much I wanted to be the one to give her whatever she wanted. It scares me a little less now. Lacing my fingers with hers, I finally say the thing I need to say: “I’m really sorry I was such a dick to you. The way I behaved the night of The Notcracker performance. If I could take it all back, I would. I was scared of appearing vulnerable in front of the whole town.”

She shifts around, awkwardly, in her Adirondack chair, to face me. “Go on.”

That makes me laugh. But I do go on. “You made me feel vulnerable. I wasn’t ready to drop the bad boy act. That was my whole identity. And I was leaving a few days later anyway.” I wish I could tell her things have changed now. I thought they had, but there might always be something keeping me from her and from Holly Grove, even when I want to stay. “You didn’t deserve that, Merrily. You deserved so much better. And I guess I wanted to make it clear to you that you deserved better than me.”

She draws in a breath, and we both let what I just said land. I’ve never said anything like that out loud before, and I can’t say that I’ve ever consciously had that thought. That anyone deserves better than me. But it’s true. And I guess the flip side of that is that I didn’t think I deserved her.

Merrily puts the cup she was holding down, pulls her gloves off with her teeth, and takes my hand in both of hers. “Thank you for saying that.” She starts absentmindedly stroking my finger. At least I think she’s doing it absentmindedly. Circling her fingers around my index finger, stroking up and down, twisting. What is she doing? Is she giving me a finger job? Is that a thing? My dick seems to think it’s a thing. “I agree that I didn’t deserve that,” she continues. “But I think you had more to offer back then than you realized. And that’s probably still kind of true now.”

I don’t know how she does it. This woman. She’s sweetly playing with my finger and stroking my soul with her kind words, while communicating directly with my cock. Now she’s tickling the palm of my hand, and I feel it in my balls. What is this devious, sexy sorcery?

She turns her head to gaze out at the view again, still gently caressing my finger. “I wonder why we’ve both been avoiding Holly Grove so much if it’s this beautiful…”

We both know the answer to that, so there’s nothing to say.

“I’m actually not looking forward to returning to Ann Arbor,” she says quietly. “I’ll definitely make more of an effort to come visit my dad. Probably in the spring. I’ll help him with the store… And maybe you’ll move here if you take over your dad’s company?”