Sixteen

The English Garden, as it turned out, was only a fifteen minute walk from the hotel. They enjoyed exploring the paths in the park, and Claire could only imagine how beautiful it would be with spring blossoms or fall foliage. They paused at a river for quite some time to watch the ambitious and adventurous surf a standing wave there, Claire and Jack both tucking their hands deeper into their pockets against the cold as a new surfer tumbled off her board.

By the early afternoon, Claire could feel her energy levels flagging and nothing sounded better than a nap. She shot a furtive glance at Jack, pleased to catch him in the middle of a yawn. She grabbed his hand then, clasping his gloved fingers in her mittened ones. 

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Before he could say a word or even nod, she plowed on. “What do you think about heading back to the hotel for a bit? We can get some snacks, maybe a hot beverage, and go start the movie marathon a little early?” She held up a hand, though he still wasn’t speaking. “I know what you’re thinking. If we head back now, will we even make it out again later for the Christmas market? But I have faith in us, Jack. And you should, too.” She smiled up at him then. “So? What do you think?”

His smile was indulgent, stretching across his face. “While I am nowhere near as confident as you are that we will, in fact, leave the hotel room again, I will do just about anything you ask. Let’s go, then.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Just about anything?”

“We’ve been over this,” Jack scoffed. “No matter how nicely you ask, there will be no funny business this evening. That I can promise you.”

As they walked back to the hotel, Claire felt a lightness that had been missing for quite some time. Perhaps it wasn’t even a lightness, so much as the absence of heaviness. Sure, she was aware in the edges of her consciousness that she hadn’t heard from Bianca that day, that there was a big unspoken Something waiting for the two of them to have a discussion. But in that moment, she wasn’t rehearsing her fears of what might be about to happen. She was simply enjoying Jack. Basking in the warmth of his presence beside her, enjoying the surreal feeling of being the sole recipient of his undivided attention.

He had made his interest in her so abundantly clear that she couldn’t even let doubt creep into the back of her mind. There was simply no room for misunderstanding, nothing he had said that she could have wondered if he intended differently, no thoughts that could possibly torment her.

And it was with that thought—and a perma-grin fixed on her face—that Claire took his hand and tugged him into a small market about halfway back to the hotel. When Jack gave her a raised eyebrow and a look of confusion, she explained. “Snacks, remember? That’s how you do Christmas Eve Eve, after all. Snacks on snacks on snacks.” She shook her head at him. “It’s not a ‘calling room service for a proper meal’ kind of event.”

“Right.” Jack nodded. “And it’s a good idea to have a stash of sustenance available when we inevitably decide not to go out again for the evening.”

She shook her head at him. “Oh ye of little faith.” She grabbed a basket and stepped closer into the shop, which appeared to be set up for a one-way flow of traffic. “I’ll readily admit that on a normal day, in normal circumstances, with my regular options available to me…” She picked up a box of cookies, scanned the packaging until she saw the familiar word “gingerbread,” shrugged, and dropped them in the box. “If I were at home and it was cold and dark and my friends wanted to meet up for drinks, if by some bizarre turn of events I even said yes in the first place, I guarantee I’d be canceling those plans. Blanket. Couch. Popcorn. Jim jams.” She gestured around them, tossing a bag of what looked like corn puffs but had pictures of peanuts on the front into the basket. “These are not normal circumstances. And while coziness and comfort almost always win over adventures out in the wider world, this is the rare exception.” They had stumbled onto the selection of chocolate, and Claire grabbed bars and tossed them into the basket with abandon. “No such thing as too much chocolate. They can be gifts, stocking stuffers, if there are any left over.”

“‘If there are any left over…’” Jack muttered. “There are approximately four pounds of chocolate in that basket, Claire, plus all the other things you’re tossing in—”

“And why aren’t you tossing anything in? Hmm? This is a group project, buddy, and I am not into the idea of doing all of my work and all of yours.”

“Fair enough.” Jack nodded, grabbed a few packages of gummy bears, and added them to the basket. “It’ll be fun to repack our bags in the morning and add a bunch of half eaten junk food into the mix, just to keep it interesting.”

“What better souvenir is there than something you can eat?”

“I’m pretty happy with the books I bought yesterday.” Jack looked thoughtful. “Really enjoying my first romance read so far.”

Claire’s lips pulled into a grimace. “I…I’m glad you’re reading it, and I hope it will help you understand your sister—”

“I’m not reading your books to understand my sister,” he cut in. “I’m thrilled that they helped her figure her shit out…or are in the process of helping her figure it out, at least.” His gaze found Claire’s, his eyes so intense she couldn’t hold eye contact. “But it’s you I wanted to know, wanted to understand.”

“Ah.” Claire’s teeth found her lower lip, worrying it. “Good to know. That won’t make me more anxious when I see you reading it at all.“ She forced a smile then. “Just…don’t read into it too much, okay? Remember that it’s just a story, that I’m not interchangeable with the main character and that the hero isn’t my dream man or anything like that.”

The expression on his face was puzzled. “You mean the basic concept of a work of fiction? Yeah, I think I got it…” He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a quick side hug before letting her go and returning to perusing the shelves. “It’s just about appreciating your talent, Claire. I swear, every word I read in that book makes me feel a little less worthy of even having a conversation with you.” He grabbed some cheese and placed it in the basket, before noticing just how full the basket was getting and taking it out of her hands. “I mean, the things that are clearly going on in your mind to be able to create something like that…well, let’s just say I’m not even sure there’s a passing resemblance between that genius machine in your head and the meat blob in mine.”

Claire laughed at him, her head tipping back to let her amusement flow more freely. “Oh, Jack. If you only knew.” She wandered in the direction of the produce, picking up a few apples to balance out their snack selection with a little fiber. “There isn’t one sentence that I write in a first draft that I think is any good. It just flows onto the paper and the main job I have is convincing myself not to delete it all and go find a real job. Of course, after it rests for some time, when I come back and read it again, some of it is actually pretty good. That’s what I think a lot of creative work is about, though. Getting past the doubt and criticism and just doing the thing. I’m pretty sure anyone could do it.”

Jack was staring at her, his mouth open as he began to shake his head slowly. “Don’t minimize it like that. You’re clearly good at what you do, even you can’t deny that. Not with all those ‘bestseller’ titles attached to your name.”

She paused before responding. “I’m grateful for all of that. I just bristle when people make it sound like there’s something special about me that they couldn’t possibly be or do or have.” She shrugged. “I don’t write because it’s easy for me. It’s anything but sometimes. I write because it’s important to me and I have stories I want to put out into the world and because I don’t really know how to do anything else. But I’m not tapped into some magical source of inspiration that drives me out of bed in the middle of the night because I simply have to do it. I just write when I can and probably spend more time convincing myself to write most days than I actually do writing.”

Jack nodded, looking deep in thought, but didn’t say anything further. 

Claire eyeballed the shopping basket, then looked up to meet his eyes. “Should we quit while we’re ahead? I know it goes against the core values of Christmas Eve Eve, but I think we’ve already got more than enough to get us through the rest of the day.”

“I’ll second that.” He lifted the basket a few inches, then lowered it again, testing its weight. “There’s some serious mass here, and if we don’t make a dent in it tonight, then our suitcases are going to be over the weight limit tomorrow.”

Claire scoffed. “Don’t be an amateur, Jack. We’ve got the time, the movies—at least I hope we’ve got the movies. If we have to watch YouTube clips on my phone, I’m going to rage. Anyway, the conditions are perfect. Cozy room, entertainment, a wide variety of sweet and salty treats. We’d never need to leave the room again, at least not for a few days.” She held up a hand. “Yes, I know we already have plans to leave the room again this evening, and I’m not going back on those. I’m just saying, we’re perfectly set up for a holiday movie marathon that lasts days. But that if we don’t actually have days to execute it, we can crank up the intensity a bit for the next few hours at least.”

“I’m not sure what cranking up the intensity means, but as long as you aren’t going to have two movies playing simultaneously side by side or turn up the speed to finish more in a shorter time, I’m completely up for it.” He nodded in the direction of the cash register, then began making his way there after Claire agreed that she was ready to go.

One final stop on the way to the hotel, and they were fully equipped for the afternoon. They had carried their groceries and treasures to a cafe close to the hotel, stopping there to pick up coffee.

“Ooh, and two hot chocolates, too, please,” Claire had interjected. “Extra hot, please.” She shot Jack a look. “We’ll drink those after the coffee, so hopefully that will help them stay warm.”

“Of course,” Jack answered with a look of amusement on his face. “Good thinking, because without those extra drinks, we might have gotten thirsty. Or hungry. Or had a chocolate deficiency.”

She glared at him. “I know you’re teasing me, but that’s just because you don’t know how terrible it is to watch the small town love story unfold and see the characters drinking their hot chocolate covered in whipped cream or marshmallows and have nothing more than a bottle of water beside you. It’s almost as bad as watching a Korean drama when the characters sit down to a great meal with all the side dishes and everything looks so delicious and all you have is an almost empty bag of pretzels.”

“Ah.” Jack nodded. “So you’re a bag-half-empty-of-pretzels kind of gal, not bag-half-full?”

Claire paid for the drinks, then moved to the end of the counter to wait for them. “I’m not even dignifying that with a response, as I believe I clearly stated the bag was almost empty. Would you look at a glass that had a few sips of water left at the bottom and describe it with the word ‘full’ or ‘empty’?”

Jack smiled at her. As the barista slid the drinks across the counter in a cardboard tray, he picked them all up, thanked the staff, and made for the door. Claire just shook her head at him. Why was it so fun to tease him, to jump on every little comment and pick a completely unserious fight about it? Maybe it was all the energy that would otherwise be directed towards the sparks between them finding a different way to express itself. As long as they were both having fun, and as long as they could still have a serious conversation when the need presented, she didn’t figure it would be a problem.

It was a quick walk to the hotel, both because the distance was short and because they had picked up the pace considerably. Jack seemed to be on a mission to preserve as much heat as possible in their drinks, and the two barely talked as they traversed the remaining blocks. Only when they were back in the lobby did Jack slow down long enough to make sure they were good, that no treats or shoes had been left behind in their hurry. Claire just nodded at him, tipping her head in the direction of the elevator.

“We’re all good,” she said, catching her breath. “Almost there!”

Back in the suite, Jack plopped onto the couch, picking up the remote to switch on the TV. “Let’s see what we can find,” he said. “Here’s hoping we can find something up to your usual standards.”

But Claire just looked at him with an expression of disbelief on her face. “What are you doing? Out here?” She shook her head. “No way! Christmas Eve Eve marathons have to be conducted in the ultimate of comfort.” She gestured in the direction of the bedroom. “There’s a TV in there, too. Come on, put on your jim jams and join me.”

“Uh. What?” Jack balked, his expression uncomprehending. “You…want me to put on my pajamas—”

“Jim jams, but yes,” Claire interrupted. “Don’t you even dare think about wearing your”—she gestured towards his shirt and jeans—“outside clothes in the bed.” She shuddered with disgust. “I will get no sleep at all tonight if I’m lying there wondering what you might have brought into my bed and left there to fester. Some kind of jean-loving bacteria or something.”

But Jack was still standing in place, still looking at her with the same expression. “I just…well, I fail to see how the two of us climbing into bed together is a good strategy at all, especially considering the promises I’ve explicitly made you about today.”

Claire waved a dismissive hand at him. “Oh please, I’m not trying to seduce you or anything. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go change into the unsexiest jim jams possible and I’ll meet you back here in ten. Deal?”

Jack gulped, but nodded. “Deal.”