Christmas at Fox Ridge

22. Eira

Chapter twenty-two

Eira

March 18

B ack in my Laura Ingalls roleplay mindset, I flit through the apartment, ensuring everything is perfect. I squint at the fresh-cut flowers sitting in a vase on my tiny table—adjusting them until they look like something from a magazine—fluff pillows on the couch, and ensure my sexiest drawing is at the top of the pile in my nightstand, all while never leaving the soup unattended for longer than two minutes at a time. None of these things likely matter, considering I don’t anticipate leaving the bed for the entire forty-eight hours he’s here. Not after waiting so freaking long to be with him again.

Two and a half of the slowest-moving months of my entire life.

No amount of text messages, phone calls, or FaceTimes would ever be enough to replace the feeling of Lucas’s thick arms around my body when he hauls me into his lap and kisses me like he’s starved for the taste of my lips. Which is exactly what will be happening in approximately four hours, fifty-six minutes, and thirty seconds… give or take a few minutes.

Determined not to mess up the soup, I take to calling Holly instead of jumping into my latest book cover project. At least she’s a human capable of reminding me to check on the boiling pot if I forget.

“Hey, babe,” Holly says. “Change your mind about coming to the concert tonight?”

“Nope. Lucas should be here just in time for dinner, and I’m attempting a redo of the soup I failed to make at the ranch.” I fill a glass with water and lean against the counter with an exhale. I have no idea how women survived back in the day—taking care of a house and cooking a big meal is exhausting.

“Well, hey, if you guys decide to leave your bed for a couple hours, let me know. We have the entire box to ourselves.” By the tone of her voice, I can sense the ear-to-ear grin. She’s only been looking forward to this Keely James concert for months , and I had planned to be there until Lucas told me he could finally come visit.

I laugh nervously under my breath. “It’s been so long since he and I saw each other in person. What if it’s different now?”

“You never stop talking about him. He never stops talking about you,” she says. “That’s not going to be an issue.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m sensing a but.”

“We’ve barely had the chance to talk for the last couple weeks. Not for lack of trying on my part.” I chew the inside of my cheek for a moment. “I know he’s really busy, so I’m trying hard not to assume the worst. But just… What if he’s trying to push me away?”

“Get out of your own head, Eira. He wouldn’t be taking time out of his crazy schedule to visit if he didn’t want to be with you.”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. The text messages are more spaced out because we’re both so busy with work. The phone calls dwindled to a couple nights per week because we’re both exhausted all the time. And the FaceTimes have stopped because there’s no time for phone sex when we’re lucky to have more than two minutes to chat.

“That’s true. I think we just need this weekend to get back on track.”

“Long distance is hard,” Holly agrees. “But just think, next month we have the wedding shower, which he’ll be here for. Then in May he has to come to the city for both the bachelor party and the wedding. So you’ll get plenty of time with my brother.”

I open my mouth to say something at the same moment a call from Lucas comes through. “Oh, shit. He’s calling me right now. Thanks for talking me down. I expect a million videos from the concert tonight. Make me feel like I was there, all right?”

“You’ll be thoroughly spammed, don’t you worry,” she says just before the dull beep indicates she’s hung up.

I melt—all anxiety leaving my body—the instant his deep, gravelly voice hits my ears with a, “hey, baby.”

Smiling into the phone and twirling a lock of hair around a fingertip, I feel like a preteen girl talking to her first crush. And I fucking love it.

“Please tell me you’re on your way.” I grab a tea towel and squeeze it tight in my fingers, waiting with bated breath for his answer. If he says yes, it means he’ll be here even earlier than expected.

“Doodlebug, I’m so fucking sorry.”

The towel falls to the floor, and I nearly go with it.

“You’re…you’re not coming, are you?” I fight the urge to cry, emotion clung to every word, saliva pooling in my mouth.

“I wanted to so fucking bad, Eira. Honest.”

My lip quivers, and I bite down until the physical pain nearly outweighs the emotional anguish.

“I just can’t get away from this place this weekend. I had something come up, and I tried to move it but…” Admittedly, there’s a small shred of joy in my soul when his words trail off because his voice is too shaky to finish. I probably shouldn’t feel comforted by his pain, but hurting together is better than wondering if I’m alone in my anguish.

“It’s okay.” No, it’s not. “I understand.” No, I do not.

“I’m going to make this up to you, I promise.”

I turn off the burner to slow the roll of the boiling broth. Based on the way my stomach’s already twisting itself into tight knots, I’m not eating anything tonight anyway. With a focused breath, I shut my eyes and don’t bother stopping the tears building in the corners.

“I-I really wanted to see you,” I say softly. “I miss you.”

“God, I miss you so much. It’s killing me not to be coming there. I can’t stand it.”

“Lucas…” My voice breaks for good. I don’t even know what I was about to say. What can I even say in this situation? Give your dreams up for me because I think I’m in love with you?

“Please don’t cry,” he pleads. “ Please . I swear, I’ll come visit as soon as I can.”

“I know.” My face scrunches in agony. “It’s okay. I’ll go to that country concert with Holly tonight instead. And I’ll call you tomorrow like normal, right?”

“ Fuck. Um… yeah, but can it wait until tomorrow night? I have some important ranch business I need to handle during the day.”

Sighing, I nod despite knowing he can’t see me. “Sure, tomorrow night. I… uh, guess I better go get ready for the concert.”

“Have fun, baby. I miss you so much.”

My knees buckle at the precise moment I end the call, and I remain nothing but a lump on the kitchen floor for the next hour. The concert was simply an excuse to hang up before I said something I didn’t mean. Or, worse , something I do mean.

Sobbing into my knees, arms wrapped around myself, I question every interaction we’ve had lately. Plucking figurative daisy petals in my mind. Does he love me? Does he love me not?

And when I’ve peeled myself from the floor, barely dragging my broken heart down the hall to the bathroom, I strip the cute loungewear from my fully shaved and exfoliated body, and cry my eyes out in the bath.

The water barely covers half of my body, leaving me shivering despite the hot water, and I can’t help but think of Lucas’s rough hands holding a small, soft washcloth as he sweetly cleaned my skin. I can’t reasonably ask him to throw away his entire life, and all the things he’s worked so hard for, because I would give anything to see his smile, feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, and taste the sweetness of his lips on a daily basis.

I would give anything…

Fate brought us together twice before, but I can’t sit back and naively expect it to realize we’re idiots who need repeated meet-cutes to help us stay together. I have to take it into my own hands and find a way to show him how good we are together. Give him reason to believe we can make it.