Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
We laughed when we finally broke for air. And when our laughter faded, we shared a sweet smile.
Cam leaned in and brushed his nose against mine. “Let’s do it again.”
We lugged the sled up the hill five more times, perfecting our cruising game and successfully avoiding any major spills. When twilight darkened the sky, I pointed at the cemetery in the distance.
“If you want to check it out, we should do it before the light is gone,” I advised.
Cam shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay.”
“You sure? It’s a five-minute walk.”
“Another day. I spend a lot of time with fictional people or researching dead folks,” he added. “I’d rather be with you tonight, Joe.”
That wasn’t a major declaration, by any means, but I was inordinately pleased. I punched his bicep affectionately, then led the way to my truck.
Thirty minutes later, we sat on pillows on the rug in front of a blazing fire in his office. We sipped hot cocoa, chatting idly as we watched the flickering embers and twinkling lights from the Christmas tree. We’d talked about taking a shower and rustling up something to eat, but this was warm and cozy. And it felt nice to lean back with our legs tangled and Cam’s hand resting over mine.
I snickered at his overembellished recounting of our adventure. “The snow drift was maybe three feet tall. Not twenty.”
“Hmph. We’ll measure it next time.”
“Deal.” I bumped his shoulder playfully. “Before you got here, when was the last time you were in the snow?”
“New York City, two years ago at a book signing on Fifth Avenue. It coincided with the premiere of the Morningside series on Netflix, so even though the weather sucked, the show went on.”
“I forget you’re famous sometimes.” My tone was light, but I must have struck a nerve.
Cam sipped his cocoa quietly. “I don’t feel famous. I’m a storyteller, that’s all.”
“A very good one…so they say,” I added with a teasing wink.
“Maybe. But I get lost in the accolades. I have a message from Martin on my cell. He must have texted while we were sledding. He’s excited about a new contract. He wants me in LA to do a holiday promotion. He went on and on about how fucking excited everyone is, and he’s already working with art directors…and something about billboards and social media adverts, and—fuck, that’s not real to me. It’s noise. Being here with you…this is real.”
I rested my chin on his shoulder, then kissed his neck. “It’s real to me too.”
Cam’s lips quirked at the corners. “I even like that damn tree.”
“It’s a good one. A little plain, but good,” I agreed.
“You’re right. It’s too plain. Let’s fix that.”
“Huh?”
He sat up quickly and set his mug on the mantel. Without a word, he left the room and returned a moment later with the lone box of holiday decorations we’d left sitting in the hallway for weeks. He popped open the lid and sank to his knees to inspect the contents.
“Angels, stars, and red bulbs. I should have guessed,” he chuckled. “C’mon, my fellow Scrooge. Help me decorate this baby.”
My brows rose to my hairline. “Seriously? You want to decorate?”
“Yeah, I do. It’s a pretty tree, but it might be nicer with a bauble or two.”
I hopped to my feet, pasting a grumpy look on my face as I paced to the tree. “I haven’t decorated a tree since I was twelve years old, Cam. That’s twenty-five years.”
“It’s been forty years for me,” he said, hanging a gossamer angel with a silver halo on a high branch.
“Whoa. That’s a long time.” I picked up a red bulb and gingerly attached the hook to the tree. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. I reached for another one just as Cam plucked a golden star from the box.
He twisted his pinkie around mine with his eyes lowered. “Hmm. Yeah. I had too many bad memories associated with something that was supposed to be happy. You know what that feels like.”
I did. And three weeks ago, I would have been content to let the details go. I wouldn’t have wanted to know his pain in case it exacerbated mine. I didn’t feel that way now.
“What kind of memories?” I prodded gently.
“My family died in a car crash on Christmas Eve.”
I froze. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
Cam inclined his head. “It was a long time ago. A lifetime, really. My aunts stepped in, but my dad’s family didn’t approve of them raising me, so there was a court battle that lasted well into my teenage years. Fuck. I was always…afraid. Afraid to be abandoned or taken somewhere I didn’t want to go. And one Christmas, I was forced to go to Michigan to spend the holiday with family I didn’t know…and maybe live there for good. I was miserable. They were sporty lake people, and I just wanted to be in my room with a book. In the end, they let me go home early and didn’t call again. I failed the family test. They didn’t want me. I was relieved, of course, but it felt crappy too.”