Wrapped in You (15 page)

“Is it because of Santa?”

Her knuckles came away smudged with black. Great—her face probably looked like it was melting. “Santa is an imaginary person, Jon.”

He sighed, gusty even over the long distance. “Do you know why I made you go on this holiday?”

“Because you’re a tyrant.”

“No, because I love you.”

The tears began to flow again, and she put a hand over her mouth to keep from sobbing into the phone, even though he’d deserve it.

“You’ve been unhappy, Trudy,” he said softly. “It was fine, because I was unhappy, too, and we kept each other company. But you deserve more than that. You deserve more than spending every minute working for a tyrant.”

Sniffling, she shook her head. “You aren’t a tyrant. You’re the only one who cares about me.”

“I don’t think I am.” His voice grew firm. “Tell me about this Santa.”

“No.” She stood. “I’m coming home early. You just have to deal.”

There was a pause, then Jon said, “We’ll talk when you get back.”

“Do I have a choice?” she muttered after she hung up. She tucked her mobile in her back pocket and continued on her way to the café.

Eve was crouched behind the pastry case when she walked in. Trudy raised her hand in greeting and headed straight over. “I need to apologize for disappearing last night.”

“No, you don’t,” Eve said, standing. “You just need to tell me if you’re okay.”

She bit her lip to keep from crying. “I’m going home tonight.”

“Tonight?” Eve gaped at her. “Does Mason know?”

“Yes,” she managed to say before tears clogged her throat.

Eve pointed to the bar. “Sit.”

She didn’t have the energy to argue. She sat in her usual spot, trying not to dwell on the fact that she had a usual spot after such a short period of time, or how well she fit in there.

When had she ever fit in anywhere?

“Take this.” Eve slid a plate with a cupcake toward her. “It’s pumpkin spice. You’ll like it.”

It was topped with a Christmas tree and glittery sugar that looked like snow. Mason would have loved it. She pulled it close to her and stared at it.

“There she is,” someone said from behind her. “We wondered what happened to you.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

Gwen’s smile dissipated, and she hurried over, putting a hand on her back. “Did someone die?”

Eve shook her head, setting a latte in front of her. “Trudy decided to go home. Today.”

“Today,” Gwen gasped. “Does Mason know?”

“Yes,” Eve replied.

Since they were doing such a good job discussing among themselves, Trudy inhaled the nutty aroma of her latte and pouted. “I’m going to miss these.”

“Don’t go,” Gwen said, perching on a stool next to her. “You like it here, don’t you?”

Too much. “It’s okay.”

“Is it Mason?” Gwen asked in a low voice.

Eve leaned across the counter and lowered her voice, too. “Did he suck in bed?”

“
No
.” Trudy recoiled. “How can you even
think
that? He’s a complete stud.”

“He is?” they both said at once. Then they looked at each other and said, “She’s in love.”

She recoiled even more. “The hell I am!”

Eve nodded. “She’s fallen hard.”

Gwen put her hand on arm. “You obviously like him. Why are you fighting it?”

“He wants to change me,” she exclaimed.

The entire café silenced and looked over.

She hunkered down and looked her new friends in the eye. “He wants me to be different, and that’s not going to work. I am who I am.”

Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure about that? I was talking to him and all he could talk about was how great you are. He didn’t sound like someone who didn’t like you as you are.”

“
He bought me a dress
.”

They gasped. “How bad was it?” Gwen asked with a wince. “Although I can just imagine. If Rick tried to buy me clothes, it’d be a disaster.”

Trudy frowned. “I don’t know. I haven’t looked at it.”

“Wait”—Eve held a hand out—”you haven’t looked to see what he got for you?”

“I can’t bear to open it,” she said, shrinking in the truth.

They stared at her in silence. Then Eve asked, “If he wasn’t trying to change you, what would you do?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been with Jon for over eight years.”

“Sometimes things change,” Eve said.

“Do you have to leave Jon?” Gwen asked. “Can’t you work remotely?”

“Maybe you should be open to a little change,” Eve suggested. She held her hand up to ward off a response. “I’m not saying you should be different than who you are. You’re perfect already, why mess with that? But time changes what we like. For example, you were resistant to Nutella lattes and now you love them.”

“But changing how I look is a bigger thing.”

Gwen threw her arms in the air. “You don’t know that he tried to change you. For all you know, the dress could be the best garment you’ll ever own.”

She crossed her arms.

Eve smiled gently. “It’s true.”

“Of course it’s true,” Gwen said, indignant. “I don’t lie.”

“Fine.” Trudy pushed away from the bar. “I’ll go look at it now. Satisfied?”

“
Yes
.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “Now was that so hard?”

Trudy snorted.

Eve came around the counter and gave her a hug. “Have an open mind. Don’t push away happiness just because it’s scary.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but the knowing look in Gwen’s face shut her up. She glared at the funky woman and wrapped her scarf around her neck. “Come visit me in London, but only if Rick muzzles you first.”

Gwen laughed and then threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly. “You’re okay, just don’t be stupid.”

“We were all stupid at one point,” Eve said with a gentle smile. “Don’t you remember how rocky we made our own paths to love?”

“Yes, which is why I’m wishing differently for Trudy.” Gwen smiled at her. “I like Mason, and I like you. I hope we get to know you better.”

Not able to say anything, Trudy just nodded and hurried out as quickly as she could in her boots.

In her hotel room, her bag sat where she’s set it: on the bed, packed and ready to go. Next to it was the box that held the dress.

Taking a deep breath, she charged toward it. If it was awful, she’d tear it up and leave the shreds for the maids to clean up. She tore apart the packaging and yanked it out, holding it away from her.

It was black—one of the two colors Mason apparently didn’t have trouble with. It had lace panels and was accented with leather straps and looked to be form fitting.

Draping it carefully on the bed, she quickly took all her clothes off and tugged the dress on. Holding her breath, she looked in the mirror.

It hugged her in all the right places, edgy and feminine at the same time. It fit like it was tailored specially for her, magically conforming to her angular body.

It was perfect.

Chapter Eleven

It was too complicated to get into it over text, so on her way downtown she called Jon. “About me. I was unhappy. I keep people at a distance.”

“When you style your hair like a porcupine, I know especially to stay away,” Jon replied, a hint of humor in his voice. “But when you come home we can work on softening you. Spend time with Summer.”

Trudy shook her head. “I’m not coming home.”

“I don’t understand,” Jon said, his voice flat. “You said you were coming home.”

“I changed my mind.” She took a deep breath. “If things go the way I hope they go, I’m thinking of staying in Laurel Heights.”

The silence was heavy on the other end of the line.

“But I’ll work from here,” she hurriedly said. “I’ll do everything needed from our new San Francisco office.”

“Since when were we going to have a San Francisco office?”

“Since today when I decided.” She wilted against the taxi’s seat and whispered the words she’d been fighting. “I love Santa, Jon.”

“Then you have to stay,” he said.

Her eyes teared up, but she didn’t let him know because he hated it when she cried. “I love you, too, you know. I’d never leave you.”

“Now you’re threatening me,” he joked.

“You’re my best friend,” she said softly. “It’ll be hard not seeing your face every day.”

He sighed. “Damn it. This guy better be worthy.”

“He is.”

“Then go be happy,” Jon said, his voice soft. “I love you, too, Trudy.”

She hung up and ran a hand down the dress Mason had given her. She hoped happiness was imminent. It all depended on Mason Scott Miller.

The taxi slowed and pulled over, and the driver glanced back at her. “We’re here, miss.”

“Thank you.” She handed him a bill and waved off the change. “For you.”

He blinked at the generous tip. “Thanks!”

She smiled and tried out words that she’d never willingly said. “Happy holidays.”

“To you, too!” He unlocked the doors and let her out.

She paused on the sidewalk, pulling her skirt down and making sure she had the gift in her hand before closing the door. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward Bix, the restaurant where Mason’s holiday party was happening. In the doorway, she stopped and looked inside.

Mason had told her that his company had rented it out for the night. The restaurant looked Art Deco on the inside, stylized, almost like a speakeasy. The bar was dimly lit and packed with people. To one side there was an elaborate buffet set up, with waiters replenishing the food. At the far corner, there was a piano player with a chanteuse. Upstairs, people sat in booths, all eating, drinking, and chatting.

There were so many people she couldn’t spot Mason. So she straightened her spine and entered the fray.

He stood at the very end of the bar talking to a small group of people. He looked amazing, put together in a dark pair of jeans and a black shirt that he wore under the purple velvet jacket she’d bought him. The people he spoke to listened to him intently, interested. Trudy smiled, happy about that.

But then she saw that the smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes, and her step faltered. She knew without ego that it was her fault.

But she’d fixed it. Clutching the present, she headed straight for him.

He looked up as she approached, his brow furrowing. He said something to the group he spoke to and moved toward her. But he stopped suddenly, his gaze going down her body and then back up. When his eyes met hers again, there was hope in them.

Her heart squeezed, with elation as well as regret for hurting him. He’d forgive her, she realized, and she was going to do her best never to cause him pain again. She’d fail—she knew that, because she wasn’t perfect—but she’d make it right each time. He was hers, and she’d always take care of him.

Mason stood still, letting her walk up to him.

“I have something for you,” she said as a greeting.

He searched her face. “Will I like it?”

“Yes,” she said, certain. She held out the wrapped present.

He took it, staring at it. Then he looked at her. “It’s a strange time to give me a gift.”

“I know, but it’s important to the moment.”

“How so?” he asked.

She swallowed all the fears, rubbing her sweaty palms on the sides of her dress. “I hope you’ll look at it and know how I feel, and then you’ll forgive me for not giving you a chance and maybe, if you’re kind, you’ll let me make it up to you and try again.”