BY THE TIME Jesse and I make it back to the shed after our last run, the temperature has seemingly dropped five to ten degrees. My guess is the wind chill is just making it feel a lot colder than when we set out, but my teeth won’t stop chattering, and my fingers and toes are numb. At this point, I don’t think even Jesse’s magic touch could warm me up. It’s going to take more than that. It’s going to take a warm bubble bath, a cup of hot chocolate, and a crackling fire. I suggest the hot cocoa and fire idea to Jesse as we hurry to pull off our gear.
“I’m in,” he says. “Meet me in the inn in half an hour?”
“Deal.”
I beat Jesse there even though I take longer to bathe than usual. Maybe he decided to take an extra-long shower. I heard his water turn on and wasn’t paying attention to whether or not it was still running when I walked out. I was too busy trying to figure out how to get over here without undoing all the progress I made warming up in the tub. The snow started coming down again, and the wind is currently whipping through the trees, causing them to bend and blow in all directions. I decide to start the hot cocoa.
It’s ready by the time I hear Jesse walk in. Or, rather, stumble in. I’m in the kitchen, so I can’t see him, but when I hear him grunt as if he’s in pain, I hurry out into the parlor.
He’s not in pain. He’s hauling in a Christmas tree. A big Christmas tree.
“Where did you get that?” I rush over to help him carry it to the corner near the mantle.
“Last week I ordered it to be delivered. Since we have so much decorating to do today before we reopen tomorrow, I thought it would save us some time. I’m glad I did, because with today’s weather, cutting one down would be a challenge.”
He grunts again as we set it down, and the sound reverberates through me, catching me off guard.
“What do you think?” Jesse steps back to assess the tree while I assess my feelings, something I said I was not going to do today. Although maybe that was an unrealistic expectation. On an average day, it’s hard to turn off that little voice in my head. Add the extra challenge of trying to turn it off when everything Jesse is doing and saying is stirring up so much emotion and I suppose I should have known I was setting myself up for failure.
“I think it’s a keeper.” I train my eyes on the tree and not on Jesse.
“I agree.”
“Where can I find lights and ornaments?” I ask, deciding staying busy might help.
“In the hall closet.”
I head in that direction. “Hot chocolate’s in the kitchen,” I call out.
“Want soup and a grilled cheese too?” Jesse offers.
“Sure.”
When he returns with our food and drinks twenty minutes later, I have one strand of white lights untangled and all the ornaments out. I found an old record player with Christmas music in the closet too, so Nat King Cole is currently serenading us in the background.
“Where are all the ornaments from?” I ask, turning one over in my hand. They’re all different shapes and sizes, an eclectic collection that looks as if it’s been gathered over a lifetime.
“Each year we all gift each other a new one,” he tells me.
“That’s a sweet tradition.” I set the ornament down and join him at the table, stealing a glance out the window as the wind continues to whistle and howl, kicking up snow. We certainly picked the right time to ski. It would be miserable out there now.
“My parents started it in their early marriage and have kept it going since,” he tells me.
“Where did they meet?”
He swallows a bite of his sandwich, then shakes his head as he picks up his mug.
“What? You’re not going to tell me?”
“It might weird you out to hear it.”
“You can’t start a story that way! Now I only want to hear it more.”
He hesitates, then says, “They spent one holiday season working together at an inn.”
I shouldn’t have doubted Jesse. He’s right. I didn’t want to hear that. It is too weird given everything going on in my head right now.
He must read the expression on my face because he grins and says, “Told ya.”
“You know me well.”
“I do.”
I pick up my sandwich, pulling off the crust just so I have something to do besides look at Jesse. “Well, now that it’s out there,” I say softly, “tell me the rest.”
Jesse takes another sip of his hot chocolate and says, “They both got hired at an inn in Burlington during their sophomore year in college. On their first day of work, they met and hit it off right away. They fell in love with the place and with each other, and that experience taught them that one day they wanted to open up an inn together.”
My voice is even quieter than before. “That’s sweet.”
“Yeah,” Jesse echoes.
Neither of us says anything the rest of the meal.
We do go back to talking again once we get the lights strung on the tree and start hanging ornaments. But for the most part we just listen to Christmas songs, occasionally humming along to the ones we like.
Every so often Sky’s roses catch my eye. They’re still on the check-in table. I left them in here last night because I felt weird bringing them back to my room since Jesse and I walked to our cottages together after his parents left. I want to move them, but I don’t want to draw attention to them either. I haven’t figured out how to do that—I only remembered them after Jesse emerged from the kitchen—so I’m forced to live with them sitting there for now. But each time I see them, I can’t help but ruminate on the clear difference between what I have with Sky and what I have with Jesse.
Everything about the way Sky shows he cares is so big, so loud, so dramatic, and what Jesse and I have is a lot quieter. But that doesn’t mean I feel it any less.
In fact, when Jesse hands me the angel to put on top of the tree and his fingers gently brush against mine, I understand that what I feel for Jesse is unequivocally stronger.