Cream of the Crop
Page 88
It was hope. She offered me a cautious smile, one that I returned. That done, she returned her gaze to the man she was dancing with, and I took a deep breath.
“Hey, pretty girl!” Chad called out as he and Logan danced past. “Why so glum? Your pictures look gorgeous!”
“Not glum, just, have you seen Oscar?”
They exchanged knowing glances.
“No, but if he’s not here yet, he’ll turn up soon. Get yourself a drink; try the eggnog. Mr. Peabody made it and it’s filled with hooch,” Chad said.
“Eggnog. I’ll give you some fucking eggnog,” I grumbled, searching through the crowd. It shouldn’t be so hard to find a six-foot-six-inch-tall man, but still no sign of him. “Sonofabitch,” I continued—and heard a telltale rattling sound behind me.
There was Polly, wearing a Christmas sweater and shaking her swear jar, which was festively festooned. “You swore, Natalie. Please put in a quarter.”
“You’re like a little curse ninja, you know that?” I said. “Who’re you here with?”
“Daddy brought me, but he’s helping Roxie bring in the cakes.” She winked, and started talking out of the side of her mouth a little, very 1930s gangster. “And you know what that means.”
I’d been burned like this before. “What does that mean?”
She shook her head and rattled her jar. “I don’t know, actually. It’s just what I heard Uncle Chad say one time. Quarter, please.”
“Kid, you’re bleeding me dry.” I dug in my purse for a quarter.
“That’s all?”
“You said a quarter.”
“Yes, but you usually give me a dollar, in case you say something else.”
“Well, I’ll try and keep my mouth zipped tonight.”
“You can try . . .” she muttered, walking away while shaking her jar to the tune of the music.
“Little hustler,” I said under my breath, and I heard a low chuckle behind me.
Every part of me turned on. I could feel it, feel him. My skin tightened, my hands clenched, my heart burst, and my teeth chattered. I slowly turned, and there he was.
Tall. Beautiful. Hair artfully pulled back in that leather tie, looking effortless as usual. It was Oscar, my caveman.
Wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater I’d ever seen. Red and green, covered in running reindeer, it was too tight across his chest and too long in the arms, and absolutely hideous.
“Wow,” I said, taking in the riot of colors. “That’s some sweater.”
“Missy made it for me; she knits me one each year,” he said with a shrug, watching my eyes carefully for any sign of jealousy.
I realized with a start that there was no jealousy here. I didn’t have to worry about Missy, even if she did still love him. Which, based on her dance partner and the way she was gazing at him, seemed like less of a possibility than before. If the world had more relationships end as amicably as theirs did, it’d be a much happier place.
“That’s truly sweet,” I said sincerely.
He stepped closer to me as the Christmas lights twinkled all around us. “Everything looks really great, Natalie. People have been saying all night long how impressed they are, and how Natalie Grayson is the best thing to happen to this town in a long time.”
“That’s kind of them,” I answered, taking a step toward him as well. “I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed with the way things turned out campaign-wise.” I stepped closer. “But not so much with how things turned out . . . with us.”
His eyes widened for a split second, the tiniest bit of hope showing before he got his emotions in check. “Well, the deck was kind of stacked against us, I suppose.”
Taking one more step, and a chance as well, I reached for his hand. “What if I told you I could unstack that deck?”
“What are you saying?”
I took a deep breath, looked into his eyes, and told the truth. “When I was seventeen, I fell in what I thought was love, with a very bad man. He told me things, made me think certain things about myself, about my body. He turned me against my friends, against my family, and by the end I was willing to sacrifice everything for him, because I thought that’s what love was. And that I wasn’t worth anything. And when it ended, I had to get away and rebuild everything that was left of me.”
His eyes flared hot with anger on my behalf, for things that had happened long ago and he could never change, but wanted to anyway.
“I was lucky to find myself again, to come out the other side of it. But something got lost in the process, and it made it impossible for me to fall in love again. Until you.”
His mouth parted, wanted to say something, but he held it back.
“I do love you, Oscar. I love you so much, but I can’t give up who I am and my entire world just to be with you.” I squeezed his hand. “But I would like to try a compromise.”
The smallest of smiles curved his lips. “A compromise, huh? What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m going to start working from home a few days a week. I’ve already talked to my boss, and while we’re still ironing out the details, he knows that it’s in his best interest to let me have this.”
“Home office?”
“Mm-hmm, and funnily enough, Chad Bowman knows the guy who owns that old store on Main Street—the one with the empty top floor that’s just waiting for someone to open up shop.”
His smile grew. “You don’t say . . .”
“Hold on there, Caveman: you’ve got a part to play in all this, too. I realize you’ve got responsibilities here that aren’t so mobile. And I can work with that, provided that you agree to spend weekends with me in the city when the market is running weekly again, as the cows allow. I’m willing to work with you on this because I know how much you love my apartment, and I know how much you love the bed in my apartment.”
“Hey, pretty girl!” Chad called out as he and Logan danced past. “Why so glum? Your pictures look gorgeous!”
“Not glum, just, have you seen Oscar?”
They exchanged knowing glances.
“No, but if he’s not here yet, he’ll turn up soon. Get yourself a drink; try the eggnog. Mr. Peabody made it and it’s filled with hooch,” Chad said.
“Eggnog. I’ll give you some fucking eggnog,” I grumbled, searching through the crowd. It shouldn’t be so hard to find a six-foot-six-inch-tall man, but still no sign of him. “Sonofabitch,” I continued—and heard a telltale rattling sound behind me.
There was Polly, wearing a Christmas sweater and shaking her swear jar, which was festively festooned. “You swore, Natalie. Please put in a quarter.”
“You’re like a little curse ninja, you know that?” I said. “Who’re you here with?”
“Daddy brought me, but he’s helping Roxie bring in the cakes.” She winked, and started talking out of the side of her mouth a little, very 1930s gangster. “And you know what that means.”
I’d been burned like this before. “What does that mean?”
She shook her head and rattled her jar. “I don’t know, actually. It’s just what I heard Uncle Chad say one time. Quarter, please.”
“Kid, you’re bleeding me dry.” I dug in my purse for a quarter.
“That’s all?”
“You said a quarter.”
“Yes, but you usually give me a dollar, in case you say something else.”
“Well, I’ll try and keep my mouth zipped tonight.”
“You can try . . .” she muttered, walking away while shaking her jar to the tune of the music.
“Little hustler,” I said under my breath, and I heard a low chuckle behind me.
Every part of me turned on. I could feel it, feel him. My skin tightened, my hands clenched, my heart burst, and my teeth chattered. I slowly turned, and there he was.
Tall. Beautiful. Hair artfully pulled back in that leather tie, looking effortless as usual. It was Oscar, my caveman.
Wearing the ugliest Christmas sweater I’d ever seen. Red and green, covered in running reindeer, it was too tight across his chest and too long in the arms, and absolutely hideous.
“Wow,” I said, taking in the riot of colors. “That’s some sweater.”
“Missy made it for me; she knits me one each year,” he said with a shrug, watching my eyes carefully for any sign of jealousy.
I realized with a start that there was no jealousy here. I didn’t have to worry about Missy, even if she did still love him. Which, based on her dance partner and the way she was gazing at him, seemed like less of a possibility than before. If the world had more relationships end as amicably as theirs did, it’d be a much happier place.
“That’s truly sweet,” I said sincerely.
He stepped closer to me as the Christmas lights twinkled all around us. “Everything looks really great, Natalie. People have been saying all night long how impressed they are, and how Natalie Grayson is the best thing to happen to this town in a long time.”
“That’s kind of them,” I answered, taking a step toward him as well. “I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed with the way things turned out campaign-wise.” I stepped closer. “But not so much with how things turned out . . . with us.”
His eyes widened for a split second, the tiniest bit of hope showing before he got his emotions in check. “Well, the deck was kind of stacked against us, I suppose.”
Taking one more step, and a chance as well, I reached for his hand. “What if I told you I could unstack that deck?”
“What are you saying?”
I took a deep breath, looked into his eyes, and told the truth. “When I was seventeen, I fell in what I thought was love, with a very bad man. He told me things, made me think certain things about myself, about my body. He turned me against my friends, against my family, and by the end I was willing to sacrifice everything for him, because I thought that’s what love was. And that I wasn’t worth anything. And when it ended, I had to get away and rebuild everything that was left of me.”
His eyes flared hot with anger on my behalf, for things that had happened long ago and he could never change, but wanted to anyway.
“I was lucky to find myself again, to come out the other side of it. But something got lost in the process, and it made it impossible for me to fall in love again. Until you.”
His mouth parted, wanted to say something, but he held it back.
“I do love you, Oscar. I love you so much, but I can’t give up who I am and my entire world just to be with you.” I squeezed his hand. “But I would like to try a compromise.”
The smallest of smiles curved his lips. “A compromise, huh? What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m going to start working from home a few days a week. I’ve already talked to my boss, and while we’re still ironing out the details, he knows that it’s in his best interest to let me have this.”
“Home office?”
“Mm-hmm, and funnily enough, Chad Bowman knows the guy who owns that old store on Main Street—the one with the empty top floor that’s just waiting for someone to open up shop.”
His smile grew. “You don’t say . . .”
“Hold on there, Caveman: you’ve got a part to play in all this, too. I realize you’ve got responsibilities here that aren’t so mobile. And I can work with that, provided that you agree to spend weekends with me in the city when the market is running weekly again, as the cows allow. I’m willing to work with you on this because I know how much you love my apartment, and I know how much you love the bed in my apartment.”
