The Mistletoe Motive(43)

“What if I’ve changed my mind?” I whisper around tears thickening my throat. “What if I wanted you to stay?”

He’s very still. Very quiet. Until he finally says, “You’d want that?”

I stare at him, tearing deeper inside myself. Should I want Jonathan around? When I’m drawn to him, when I miss our bickering, and I wish I could kiss him again, when I’m meeting Mr. Reddit, the friend I’ve hoped could become more?

Words catch in my throat. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I want. I feel like I’m falling apart.

“I—” The words catch in my throat, until they finally spill out. “I’m torn.”

“About what?” Jonathan asks quietly.

I glance away, staring into the fire. “Because whatever’s going on with us…it’s messing with me. And there’s someone I care about, but it’s…complicated. Right now, we’re just friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”

“Friends,” he repeats softly.

“I hoped maybe we’d become more, and I think he’s hoped so, too, but now—” I blink away tears. “I don’t know what I hope or think. We’ve never met in person before. We’ve only ever talked online. I mean it’s been over a year, so I feel like I know at least parts of him very well, but that’s not the same as knowing someone in real life, is it?”

He rubs his knuckles across his mouth. “How did you meet?”

“You’re about the only person who I don’t have to preface this with, ‘don’t laugh,’ because you don’t seem to possess that bodily impulse, but I met him on a nerdy bookish Reddit thread. He’s…perfect,” I tell him bleakly. “At least in our chat he is. And in that chat, I’m perfect, too. There’s no real-life tension, barely any of my autistic traits foregrounded to trust him with and hope he’s gentle toward. I’ve told myself it’s this magical thing, how well we get along, but that’s not reality, and I know I’ve been hiding behind a screen, hiding from being fully known and loved for all of who I am. Which is why I told myself I was going to be brave. And now I have plans to meet him in person.”

“When?” Jonathan says, voice soft and dark as a midnight snowy walk.

“After we close for the holidays. Three days from now.”

The hand in front of his mouth tightens to a fist. “Where are you meeting him?”

I give him a look. “Don’t even think about playing security. I already had to talk down June, who’s insisted on coming. We’ve agreed that she’s allowed to observe from a discreet distance. She watches too much Criminal Minds—”

“Gabriella,” he says, eyes pinning mine as he repeats himself. “Where are you meeting?”

“The Winter Wonderland display at the conservatory.”

Jonathan’s fisted hand drops to his lap, his gaze fastened on me. “Sounds like something you’d love.”

“It is,” I admit. He holds my eyes so intensely, I start to shift uneasily in my chair. “What about—” I fight the roar of jealousy clawing through me. “What about you? Is there someone?”

“A…friend,” he finally says. “She’s someone I met online, too, actually. A pen pal of sorts.”

I smile. “Really? Have you met in person?”

“No.” He glances away, staring into the fire. “Not yet.”

Gently, I nudge his knee. “Why not? Mr. Frost, what do you have to hide about yourself behind the trusty protection of online chatrooms?”

He rolls his eyes. “Let’s see. A less than warm and cheery first impression. Black moods, especially around the holidays. Avoiding the ‘I have diabetes’ talk.”

“Please. You have a grinch fa?ade, but underneath is a heart of gold. And as for your less than cooperative pancreas, if she gives you hell—” I mime a one-two punch. “Lemme at her.”

I don’t even think he sees me. He’s lost in thought, staring into the fire still. “What happens,” he asks quietly, “when you meet and… What if he’s not how you pictured him? What if he’s the last person you expected?”

“I don’t know. I just wish I’d met him months ago, and this wouldn’t be an issue. I wish we didn’t have this built-up idealization that we’ll have to unlearn and work through.”

“So you wish you knew the messy truths.” His gaze snaps my way. “The hard-to-love parts of him.”

“Don’t you? Don’t you feel that way about her?”

His eyes search mine. “Yes. So much.”

“Then be brave,” I tell him, closing the distance between us and squeezing his hand, torn as I struggle against the unreasonable possessiveness I feel for him. “Promise me you’ll meet her, and when she meets you, she’ll be lucky enough to see the real you, all of you, Jonathan Frost.”

Staring at me, he’s quiet for a long moment before he flips his hand and squeezes mine back. “You think she’ll like that?”

“Jonathan. You’re a grumpy curmudgeon, but you’re also one of the best people I know. You’ve devoted yourself to this place. You’d do anything for the Baileys. You’ve been a good friend to me the past eleven days and an exceptional co-manager. You love your nephew so hard, seeing you two together made my ovaries do calisthenics—”