The Christmas Pact(13)

She bit her lip. “Maybe.”

“Why, Riley, Riley, Riley, you dirty girl,” I teased. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. Because you’d never find it.”

“Oh, I bet I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t, considering you’re holding it, and you don’t even know.”

What?

Looking down at my hands, I realized I was still holding the doll with the sunburn.

“Uh…this isn’t a vibrator.”

She took it from me. I watched as she twisted the doll’s head off and reached inside its hollow body, pulling out a small purple wand.

I laughed until I was wiping tears. “Don’t you accuse me of being warped ever again, Miss Kennedy.”

“Yeah, well. My mother is nosey. You do what you have to do.”

“Did you use that thing when you thought about J.T.? You know…break open the doll’s head and rub one out to the beat of ‘Tearin’ Up My Heart’?”

She threw the old vibrator across the room. “Oh my God! Why did I even show you? I must be insane.”

“Because you’re warming up to me. Admit it.”

“No. I think I’m just wired and losing my mind a bit.” She yawned. “Anyway...it’s getting late. We should get to bed. I don’t know where my mother keeps the spare bedding, and I can’t actually ask her because she thinks you’re sleeping with me. So how about if I give you my blanket and keep the comforter?”

“That works, or I’m okay just sleeping on the floor with my coat.”

“No. Take the blanket.” She handed it to me.

“Thanks.”

I lay down on the cold floor, wishing I could have been in that warm bed, snuggled up against her. Then again, maybe that would have been a bit dangerous, considering I probably wouldn’t have been able to hide my excitement in that scenario—especially after all this talk of vibrators and Peg Bundy. But mostly, because Riley was just…beautiful.

I couldn’t fall asleep for the life of me. All was quiet and pitch black, so I couldn’t tell if she was out yet or not.

“Are you asleep?” I whispered.

“I’m trying to,” she said flatly.

“Okay. I’ll take that as you not wanting to talk. Sorry. Goodnight.”

Her bed creaked. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You never told me how you ended up working for the publishing house.”

“I fell into it. Took an internship and never left. Ended up liking the literary world decently enough. How about you? How the heck did you go from wanting to be an astronaut to working in publishing?”

I sighed. “Well, after my break-up, I wanted to get away from some bad memories, so I packed my bags and took a train to the city. Didn’t even have a job lined up. A buddy got me an admin position in the nonfiction department and I eventually worked my way up to editor. So, not that different from your story.”

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice for a career,” she said. “But it suits me. I’ve always considered myself a creative person.”

“Well, I mean, you hid your vibrator inside a doll. It doesn’t get more creative than that.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Are you smiling?” I asked.

“It’s dark, so I don’t have to admit it if I am.”

She was totally smiling.

We both fell quiet again. Something had been bugging me all afternoon. I’d been pretty hard on Riley’s family after I’d intercepted that letter she’d written to the advice columnist—going as far as calling her mother a materialistic, self-absorbed narcissist, if I remembered correctly. But after coming here and getting to know everyone a bit, I was realizing that was as far from the truth as it could get. So I sucked it up. I was a big enough man to admit when I was wrong.

“I owe you an apology.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Pretty sure you owe me at least ten.”

I chuckled. I liked that Riley wasn’t an easy sell. “I meant, for the things I said about your mother after reading your little letter to that columnist.”

She sighed. “My mom is…a lot…I know. But the truth is that she’s a really good person and an amazing mother. Those letters she puts out at Christmastime are obnoxious, yes, and make me cringe, but her heart’s in the right place. She doesn’t do it to shove our family’s successes in other people’s faces. She does it because she’s proud.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I get that now. I was wrong to say those things about her, and I totally misjudged the situation. Can you forgive me?”

Riley said nothing for a solid minute before speaking again. “Were you starting to worry I wouldn’t accept your apology when I went quiet?”

“Yes.”

She laughed. “Okay. Then we’re even. I needed to make you feel bad before I forgave you.”

“Devil-woman.”

“I have my moments.”

A few minutes later, we were talking about some of the people I’d met tonight…when I heard the bed squeaking. It wasn’t a big squeak, but it was a consistent, rhythmic one, like she was moving back and forth and maybe trying not to make it noticeable. I stopped mid-sentence when it dawned on me that she might be…