Page 43 of You Make It Feel like Christmas
M AISIE FINISHED WRAPPING N ICK’S gift. She’d already planned on giving it to him before he’d surprised her this morning with his jersey.
How freaking fabulously high school was that?
She’d never had a boyfriend in high school but she vividly remembered seeing girls wear their guys’ letterman jackets.
Nick wanted her at his game, wearing his jersey, with his name, and his number.
Tidying up her small studio, she was about to head back across the hall to her apartment when her phone rang and her sister’s face came up on her screen.
She sank down on her editing stool, accepted the call. “Hey, Nat.”
“Hey. How are you?”
Since Nick showing up had stolen all of her focus, she was better than her sister expected her to be.
“I’m good. Working in my studio.” That actually wasn’t a lie; she had a series of photographs she’d been considering for entering the gallery contest. “Enjoying my last few days before I start at the university. My next photo shoot isn’t until February. ”
She heard rustling in the background but wasn’t surprised because her sister didn’t often sit still. “Have you talked to Mom and Dad?”
“No.”
Because they hadn’t phoned. A small piece of her thought her dad would.
“I think they’re just giving you some time to cool off,” Nat said, disappointment toward their parents evident in her tone.
Fissures formed in the wall she tried to keep up around her heart when it came to her family and their opinions.
Looking around the tiny studio space she felt lucky to have, her gaze moved over the poster-size black-and-white photographs she displayed, the corner shelf full of framed photos, photography books—some of which she’d been part of—and different cameras.
“I love what I do, Nat.”
“I know. And you’re amazing at it. Sometimes I think the fact that nothing was ever good enough for Granddad, even when Mom got her PhD, made her believe she could take credit for all of us combined and really show him. I know she’s proud of you, Maisie. I’m sorry the trip ended the way it did.”
Maisie’s phone buzzed with an incoming text message but she didn’t check it. “Me too. I’ll phone her next week. Maybe I do need some space.”
They chatted for a few more minutes and when she hung up, she saw Nick had texted.
Nick
Okay if I pick something up for us to eat?
Maisie
If you don’t, we’ll either need to go out and get something or go to a store and buy some food. I really need to grocery shop.
Nick
Anything you don’t like?
She smiled at the screen.
Maisie
Fishy things, onions, and mushrooms
Nick
Very specific list
Maisie
The list of what I do like is longer
Nick
Am I on that list?
Her heart rate sped up. He had no idea.
Maisie
Possibly
Nick
See you soon?
Maisie
3
He didn’t send a heart back and she chose not to let her brain spiral about it. If he was on his way back and they had one more night together for who knew how long, she didn’t want to waste it on wondering if he knew how to find a heart emoji.
By the time he came back, she’d tidied up her studio, filled out the online form for the contest, waffled on calling her mom, texted Lexi instead, and changed into something she thought Nick might like.
When he knocked on the door, she was waiting and pulled it open immediately.
He smiled at her, a brown paper take-out bag in one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other.
Maisie stared at the blue, red, purple, and white blooms of flowers she couldn’t name. No one had ever given her flowers. She bought them for others all the time because they were such a pretty and simple way to brighten a day, but no one ever gave them to her.
“Are you wearing my jersey and nothing else?” His voice came out husky and pulled her attention from the flowers.
She met his gaze, knowing the depth of her feelings were shining like a lighthouse in her own. “Did you bring me flowers?”
“I sure as hell didn’t bring them for someone else.”
She laughed but her chest stayed tight, like there wasn’t quite enough room inside of it to breathe.
“Let me in, Maisie,” he said, his voice low and heated.
She stepped back and Nick stalked in, going directly to the kitchen and offloading his items before turning back and coming to Maisie.
Before she could say anything, his hands were on her hips and his gaze was roaming down the length of her, taking in where the shirt ended mid-thigh and her bare legs beyond that down to her red-painted toes.
His eyes came back up to hers and she swore they burned into her. “You’re a goddamn fantasy come to life.”
Her reached out and cupped her face in both hands, taking her in a kiss that she felt all the way through to her soul.
He might not use emojis but holy hell the man could kiss.
What was the Stanley Cup equivalent for kissing?
Someone should make one. Maisie’s hands went to his wrists and held on, her legs close to shaking with her need.
She was absolutely ready for him to back her up against the wall and take advantage of the fact that she wore very little—sort of like he had the first night they’d been together—but he surprised her.
Nick lifted his mouth, kissed her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and her forehead.
He inhaled deeply like he was using the action to gather himself. “I brought pasta,” he said.
Maisie’s brain was still operating on post–amazing kiss mode, so it took her a second to realize they were actually going to go eat dinner.
“I like pasta,” she said inanely.
Nick smiled at her. “Good.” He lowered his hands but took one of hers and pulled her into the kitchen.
When he let her go, she still felt dazed while he went about pulling plates, cutlery, and glasses out of their spots. He was too big for her space and yet, it felt right having him there. A sharp stitch pulsed under her ribs at the thought of him leaving.
“You okay, babe?” Nick unloaded the paper bag and delicious scents filled the air—garlic and oregano—and Maisie’s stomach growled loudly. Seriously? Nick laughed.
“Fine. Just hungry, I guess.” She’d never minded eating dinner alone. But now, she knew it wouldn’t feel the same. The loneliness would have an edge because she’d know who she was missing.
“Wanna eat at the table?”
She sat across from him, watching like she was in a Nick-induced fugue state while he spooned some penne and lasagna onto each of their plates, then added garlic bread.
He nudged the plate toward her. “I’m serious, Maze. You okay?”
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she met his gaze and tried to breathe away the emotion threatening to sweep through her body.
“I like having you here,” she whispered.
Nick reached over, putting his hand around her neck to pull her close. Against her lips, he said, “I like being here, too. I’ll be back, baby.”
What did that mean? Back for a week here, a week there?
Not even a week? A few days? Long-distance romances never worked.
Your parents’ does. Jacob travels for work sometimes.
Lots of no-distance relationships didn’t work.
What would make them special? He was a freaking NHL player.
She was, as her mom told her time and again, just a photographer. Stopitstopitstopit.
Nick turned his body in the chair and took both of Maisie’s hands. “Okay. Get it out. What are you worried about?”
Despite the opening to tell him everything, words escaped her. Pulling her hands from his, she picked up her fork, dug into her food. Nick did the same but sent her frequent glances.
“This is really good,” he said after taking a large bite of lasagna.
“There are a ton of good restaurants in this area. That’s one of the reasons I like it.”
“Yeah? What other areas of Seattle do you like? Where could you imagine yourself living?”
Stabbing a few bites of penne, she thought about that.
“Seattle is an amazing city and there’s a lot of areas I like.
My sister lives on Bainbridge Island and that’s really gorgeous.
I’d love to live by the water but I don’t know that I want to be isolated.
Maybe Queen Anne. That’s pretty without being pretentious. ”
He gestured toward himself. “Like me?”
A loud laugh escaped her lips. “Yes. Exactly like you.”
He’d told her more than once that this wasn’t the end. Instead of wasting time worrying about it, she needed to enjoy the time they spent together.
“I know you said that you weren’t sure about what was next for you, but is there anything other than hockey you could see yourself doing?”
She leaned back in her chair while he got up to grab a soda. Bringing it back to the table, he sat next to her again, his expression thoughtful.
Shrugging, he opened it. “It’d have to be something still connected to sports. A lot of guys I know do broadcasting. But you know how it is, when you’re in the thick of it, doing what you love, you don’t think about what else is out there.”
“That makes sense. You’re right. When I do think of anything outside my regular shoots, it’s still wrapped up in photography.”
“Have you talked to your parents?”
She shook her head. “Nat called today while I was in my studio. I just want to stay in this little bubble for now. Reality can come crashing in next week.”
When they finished eating, he heldout a hand to her. “Show me your studio.”
She slipped hers in his and used the moment to press herself into his body, wrap herself around him. When his hand stroked down her hair, she sighed and settled more deeply into him.
“I’m sorry your mom makes you feel so bad about what you do, but if it’s any consolation, I agree with you about doing what you love. You could have every degree possible but it doesn’t bring bone-deep satisfaction the way following your passion does.”
She leaned back and did her best to smile up at him. “Thank you. Come on. I’ll show you where I make magic.”