The Christmas Pact by Vi Keeland

Riley

I tossed and turned in bed that night. That garter was bad luck.

I’d been having so much fun with Kennedy, from that amazing kiss outside to feeling his hands on me as he slid the garter up my leg. Then after that—it was literally over.

Something in him changed. He’d gone from playful and flirtatious to quiet and closed off. And it lasted the rest of the night. Was it something I said? I wracked my brain and couldn’t figure it out. And now I was lying in his bed alone as he slept on the floor.

After a quiet car ride home from the wedding reception, Kennedy hadn’t even tried to share the bed with me. The sad thing is, I might have let him in tonight. If I were being honest, I might have let him do a lot more than just sleep next to me. My attraction to him was through the roof. Before he did a one-eighty, I’d actually been starting to think that maybe I was finally ready to open my heart to someone.

Not just someone.

Him.

But just as I’d conceded to that fact, Kennedy had shut down, leaving me to doubt everything all over again.

When I woke the next morning, Kennedy was already up. His hair was disheveled as he sat at the foot of the bed holding a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” he said flatly when he noticed me rubbing my eyes.

My voice was groggy. “Morning.”

“I got you some coffee so you didn’t have to go out and talk to anyone, but now it’s cold.” He stood up. “I’ll go get you a fresh cup.”

“Thanks.”

I sat up and watched as he exited the room. As sad as I was, I couldn’t help but notice how good his ass looked in the jeans he’d changed into.

He came back a few minutes later and handed me the steaming mug.

His eyes travelled down to my breasts, and I realized I was practically popping out of my tank top. Well, at least he still had a pulse in that respect. Everything else was off kilter, though.

“What time is your flight?” he asked.

“It’s at 4PM. I’ll need to get on the road soon to head back to Albany. I want to stop in to say goodbye to my family before I head to the airport.”

“That makes sense.” He tilted his head back to finish off the last of his coffee, then crossed the room to the door. “I’ll get out of your hair so you can get dressed.” Then he was gone.

The old Kennedy would’ve stuck around, maybe tried to get a peek at me while I got into my clothes. This only confirmed my suspicion that something with Kennedy had changed.

The disappointment I was feeling was certainly eye-opening. Wow. I really had been falling for him.

After I slipped my clothes on and packed up, Kennedy knocked on the door. It was like we hadn’t ever kissed, hadn’t ever shared a bed together. It felt like we’d taken a major step back.

“Come in.”

“Can I make you breakfast before you go?”

“No. I’m just gonna grab something at the gas station on the way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t argue with me.

After I said goodbye to Kennedy’s mother in the kitchen, he walked me out to the car.

He tucked my suitcase in the trunk and shut it with a firm push. He placed his hands in his pockets as he turned to face me. Neither one of us seemed to be making easy eye contact.

“You know, my little act on Christmas Eve was a quick fix,” he said. “Have you thought about what you’re eventually gonna tell your mother about my being gone?”

Well, I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t be gone, but now I see that’s not where this is going.

“No. But I won’t address it for a while. Hopefully by the time I have to deal with it, I’ll have a story in mind.”

He nodded slowly, then cleared his throat. “Thank you again for last night…for being there for me. You’re an amazing woman. I hope you realize that.”

Nothing like raking in the compliments while someone is basically telling you to take a hike. This just sucked.

I stood up on my tippy toes and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek before I got in the car and drove away, unsure of whether I’d ever see Kennedy Riley again.

Two days later I was back at work, and, from the outside, everything appeared back to normal. The last week seemed like a dream. A really crazy, impulsive, sexy dream. Actually, it probably would have been easier if the time I’d spent with Kennedy hadn’t been real. Because it was difficult to walk around each day now remembering what his mouth had felt like on mine, how soft his lips were, or how his hard body pressed to mine when we slow danced. Just knowing what a sweet guy he was beneath that gruff exterior made my heart ache.

I took Liliana to lunch to say thank you for taking care of Sister Mary Alice while I was away. Over Chinese food, I confided in Liliana about my crazy Upstate adventure. After she picked her jaw up off the floor, she started goading me to reach out to Kennedy and ‘make the first move’.

“Seriously, Riley, the man is drop dead gorgeous. Who cares about some archaic romantic notion that a man should make the first move? Fuck that.” She jabbed her straw in and out of the crushed ice in her cup. “Let me ask you this: do you like to be on top?”

I blinked a few times. “On top? Meaning in bed?”

“Yes, on top. You know, indulging your inner cowgirl.”

It was kind of a personal question, but I trusted Liliana, so I just went with it. “I actually do. I have trouble having an orgasm in missionary position.”

She sucked on her straw until the liquid was gone and she made a loud, gurgling sound. “This was a large cup of ice with a side of soda, not the other way around. But anyway…you need a man to get your cowgirl on, so pick up the damn phone and get yourself one.”

I laughed. I’d thought she was going to impart some wisdom about it being the new millennium and how women have become empowered in the bedroom so we should also be inviting men on dates. But her logic was on point anyway. I gave her a serious look. “I’ve never asked a man out.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? He says no. You’re already walking around like someone kicked your dog, so why not go for it? Obviously, you want to saddle up.”

I smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

“We can even do it on speakerphone. If you get tongue tied, I’ll help you out.”

That was definitely not happening. But I appreciated the thought. Sort of. “Thanks, Lily.”

By the end of the week, I still hadn’t heard from Kennedy. I guess a part of me had held onto hope that maybe he’d miss me and call. He certainly knew how to reach me. I sat at my desk at nearly five o’clock on Friday, in no rush to go home. The rest of the office was already racing for the door, but I decided to dig through my inbox and find the emails that had started this whole mess. Reading the string of messages back, one thing really hit home. It was the advice from that columnist—or at least the woman who’d answered for Dear Ida. She’d written:

Dear Boring,

It sounds to me like your problem isn’t your mom’s Christmas letter—though I do find those to be obnoxious myself. I think if you dig a little deeper, your problem is actually with your own life—and the fact that you don’t actually have one. Sometimes difficult things need to be said and our friends and family are too polite to say them. That’s what I’m here for…so here’s my advice to you:

Go out and live a little. Give your mother something to write about. Life is too short to be so dull.

God, that email had pissed me off so much when I’d received it. But now I realized that was because she’d hit the nail on the head. I have no life.

I sighed. Someone more badass would have done something about it. But instead, I shut down my laptop and put on my coat.

Four hours later at home, I still couldn’t stop thinking about those emails. I’d stuffed my face with pizza and downed a few glasses of wine when the bright idea to write to that columnist again popped into my head. If she was right once, maybe she could tell me how to handle the situation with Kennedy now. So I grabbed my laptop and decided to be safe this time and write her from my personal email. The last thing I needed was another mix up with my and Kennedy’s emails.

Dear Soraya,

I wrote to you a few weeks ago about my mother’s Christmas letter. Remember me? You called me boring and inadvertently sent your advice to a coworker who has the same first and last name, only in reverse. Well, I guess I should start out by apologizing. I was pretty upset when I got your letter. You basically told me to get a life and sent the response to an annoying coworker, who happily forwarded it to me…along with his own two cents. Anyway, I was upset and wrote you back a pretty harsh letter. And for that, I’m sorry.

While your advice was tough to hear, over the last week I realized you were right. I guess perhaps it took a few days of actually having a life to make me realize that I hadn’t been living. Which brings me to why I’m writing today. The annoying guy you sent my letter to? Well, he wound up being not so annoying. In fact, it turns out he’s pretty incredible. We spent a few amazing days together, and things were going great. Until they weren’t. And now I’m not sure how to handle it.

I really like him and want to explore what we seemed to have. At times, I was sure he felt the same way. But then, just when things started to progress, he pulled away. You see, someone hurt him pretty badly. So my conundrum is, I’m not sure if he’s just afraid of getting his heart broken again, or if maybe he actually didn’t like me the way I thought he did.

I’ll tell you a little secret, Soraya…I’m a little old-fashioned. I guess, deep down, I still expect Prince Charming to ride up on his white horse and whisk me away like some dumb damsel in distress. Which is probably why I’m a little afraid to go after the first man to make my heart go pitter patter in years. So I need you to tell me the truth here…should I take a chance and ask him out, or do I move on because he’s really just not that into me after all?

Signed,

Don’t want to be Boring Anymore