“Are you saying it feels like longer?” I teased.
“I’m saying it seems like it took too long to meet you.” He took another step closer. I could feel the heat of his body and the brush of his gray sweater on my hands.
“Some days I don’t know what I would do without you,” I whispered, surprised at my courage. But these words were true and in the isolation of his quiet house I felt safe enough to speak them.
“Then I’m glad you have me.”
I looked down at the snowflake ornament, too unsettled by his words, only for him to recapture my attention when he said, “Liz, look up.”
“Why?” But I did.
“Mistletoe,” he murmured.
Then he kissed me. His soft lips pressed against mine in a gentle kiss that lasted only a second. I barely had a chance to let my eyes flutter closed before he stepped back again.
I blinked up, but there was nothing there. The only thing that hung from the vaulted ceiling was a ceiling fan.
No mistletoe.
My cheeks burned and my stomach flipped. He’d kissed me. Ben had just kissed me.
How could he? I was still married!
No, that was wrong.
Technically, I was now single, but not the kind of single girl looking to be kissed.
Still, it wasn’t an open-mouthed kiss or even that intimate. A friend could give a kiss like that. Right?
I pressed my lips together, trying to sort out all of the sensations that had erupted inside of me. Nerves tingled beneath my skin and I heated all over.
I wanted to forget that ever happened, but I couldn’t stop replaying the nearness of his body or the smell of his cologne. I still felt his lips against mine and my heart still raced with the thrill of his boldness.
“I should go,” I croaked.
He looked at me affectionately, as if those words were the most adorable thing he’d ever heard, and said, “I figured.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“That you have a family that needs you. I figured you had to get back to them.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. I didn’t believe that was what he meant at all.
“Thank you again for the gift.” I settled it back into the box and replaced the lid. “I can’t wait to hang it up on the tree.”
“If you need to get away from your parents, you can always come back.”
The desire to take him up on his offer seared through me without my permission. I wasn’t supposed to want to come back to his house. I shouldn’t want to spend more time with him.
I shouldn’t still be thinking about his kiss.
“I probably won’t see you until after they leave.”
His smile faltered, “I forget not everyone dreads spending time with their parents.”
“You love your parents,” I reminded him.
“They’re growing on me.”
“One day I’d like to meet them.”
His eyes darkened and he spoke in a low rumble, “You should probably let me take you out on a date first.”
“Excuse me?” I practically choked on the words.
But then his eyebrow rose in that cocky way he had and I realized he had been joking. I was the one that read too much into it. “Isn’t that how it usually goes? I was just kidding.”
I cleared my throat and attempted a smile. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”
“Merry Christmas, Liz.”
I stepped into my boots, grabbed my coat and practically bolted from his house. By the time I had shut myself back in my own house I had managed to convince myself that his kiss and his flirting didn’t mean anything. He was a friend. And he thought of me as a friend.
I looked down at the box in my hand, then clutched it against my pounding heart.
He was just a friend, I decided concretely.
And because I willfully came to that conclusion, I didn’t bother to examine my actions when I tucked the ornament inside my bedside table instead of hanging it on the tree where it would be stored away with all of the other Christmas decorations in just a few short days.
Chapter Seventeen
“Ms. Conway will see you now,” the school secretary informed me.
I stood up from a chair lined against the wall and walked toward Ms. Conway’s office. This time I thought ahead and called Emma to babysit the two little kids while I had my meeting with the school counselor.
When she called last Friday to ask me to come in on Monday, she’d made it clear that this was a very serious meeting and that I should be serious about it.
I figured the call was meant to scare me into leaving my gaggle of children at home.
I walked into her office and steeled myself against the immediate chill. I hated being called in here. I hated that she had the ability to reduce me to fear and panic attacks.
Before Grady died, I had been the poster mom for volunteering and school spirit. Now I was the cautionary tale whispered about in carpools and PTA meetings. This is what happens when you have too many kids and lose your mind. You turn into her.
These women had once relied on me. Now they couldn’t meet my eyes because they didn’t know what to say to me.
Maybe it was unfair to cast them all with the same dye, but beyond some initial casseroles after Grady’s funeral, I hadn’t heard from one of them.
“How are you, Liz?” the counselor asked me from behind her desk.
“I’m alright, thank you.”
“Please, have a seat.” I followed orders. “Do you know why I called you in here today?”
I tried not to feel like a ten year old again. “No, the kids haven’t said anything.”
She pressed her thin lips together and looked down at some papers in front of her. “But you know Abby has been having problems in nearly all of her classes? She’s been acting out, disrupting lectures and not turning in her homework?”
“We’ve been working on all of that.” I suppressed the urge to run my hands over my face with frustration. “She’s had some difficulties since Christmas.”