Page 64 of When in December
“He’s a client, Hannah.”
“Hidden away in the deep, dark woods, where he doesn’t leave so no one will ever have to know. I don’t know. Having that kind of secluded spot, decorated by you around the holidays, things could get spicy—and I’m not just talking about the cider.”
I shook my head again. “We are professional adults,” I repeated. “I’m sure having a romantic affair is the last thing on his mind right now when he’s already been through so much. Plus, he still doesn’t know who I am, which feels like …”A huge lie.
“Sounds like you’re starting to like him,” my friend murmured. “Or like him again.”
I was. That was a problem. When he wasn’t being a complete ass, he was starting to remind me of the boy I remembered liking more than anyone else over a decade ago. Or maybe this all was some strange workaholic Stockholm syndrome.
“You shouldn’t let him get to you.” Hannah cut through my thoughts once more. “You’re in control.”
It didn’t feel that way. Every time I went back to the cabin, I felt less in control. The place was getting done. I could almost see it coming together in time. But with Aaron there, I was slowly fraying like a velvet Christmas ribbon.
I wondered if I would ever feel fully in control and not like I wasn’t a second away from becoming my teenage self again, ready to self-combust with silly, unprofessional feelings for a man I still hardly knew as an adult, even if that was slowly changing now and he wasn’t such a complete pain in my side.
At least not all the time anymore.
“But …”
I looked at her as I reached for my glass of wine, taking another hesitant sip. I didn’t drink much, but it was nice, sitting and sipping as we chatted.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing for you to lean more into following your heart, would it?” asked Hannah. “It couldn’t hurt to let yourself focus a little on not working.”
“The promotion is coming up, Hannah. I need to focus on the project. You are supposed to be telling me to ignore men and to focus on me right now.”
“And normally, I would. But come on, Pops. I have faith in you. This project of yours? It’s going to be great, no matter what happens. You’re going to whip Alison’s ass.”
“I don’t want to whip her ass, Hannah. We are both good at our jobs and?—”
“Buuut”—she pulled me back on topic—“you don’t always let go. Live. Maybe you could have some fun. Step outside the routine a little more. I mean, you seem like your normal, on-edge self right now, constantly thinking about work, but you also seem … giddy.”
“Giddy?”
“Happy.”
“I’m always happy,” I challenged.
“Are you?” Hannah asked, forehead creasing.
Was I happy? And more than my affirmation app telling me so?
“I don’t want to step on your toes here, Poppy,” Hannah said. “But ever since I met you, when you were with Lincoln, who I know I shouldn’t speak of, I’ve seen you be focused and pleased and maybe even a little excited, but I’m not sure if I’ve seen you be casually happy. Being casually happy after all is a big deal. Not everyone gets to wake up and feel good. And I want that for you.”
“I want that for you too, Hannah.”
“Well, I am,” she said. “Most of the time anyway, I let myself be. Let yourself be too.”
If only it were that easy.
“I’m not trying to get him to fall in love with me, Hannah.”
“Whether that happens or not—fine, I’ll stop.” She shrugged, reaching for her drink. “Hannah from the Holiday Hotline is officially clocking out for the evening. Thoughtful responses are no longer guaranteed.”
For some reason, I didn’t think Hannah had to try that hard. Unless she put on the overly excitable party-girl face just as easily as the polished problem solver at work every day. All of us were pretending to be the perfect people we wanted to be until we ended up cracking under the weight of ourselves.
“Thank you for wanting me to be happy, Hannah,” I said softly.
“Eh, don’t get sappy.” She let her hand fall out to the side, effectively waving me off.