Carrie Alexander – Christmas in His Bed: Talking in Your Sleep... / Unwrapped / Kiss & Tell (страница 23)
“Not really, I just stopped by,” he lied, his pride digging in.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Rafe. I was out driving.”
“Where?”
“Around. I had to think.”
Rafe’s irritation dissipated as he detected the tone of confusion in her voice, and he went the rest of the way down the steps and took her hands in his.
“Think about what? Us?”
“No … Sort of. Related. I had to think about why I have no passion.”
“This sounds like a conversation we need to sit down for. Did you eat?”
She shook her head and they entered the house. Rafe ordered some takeout and then took her coat, leading her over to the sofa to sit with him. Gathering her in his arms, he drew her near and was gratified when she curled in a little.
“You bought a tree.”
“I thought we could have some fun decorating it.”
“I haven’t had a tree in forever. Never as an adult.”
“Really? You did say you aren’t that into Christmas.”
She twisted to face him. “I’m not, and don’t you see, that’s it.”
“What?”
“At Christmas, when everyone is excited, when there’s shopping and gifts and all these celebrations, I don’t get into it. I’m left flat.”
“Why is that?”
“My father pretty much gave up on Christmas the year my mother took off with her lover. He would buy me a gift each year and leave it on the kitchen table, but we didn’t do trees or any of those things. I think it was too painful for him—it all reminded him of her.”
Rafe paused, absorbing what she’d said. “She took off at Christmas?”
“Yeah. He—the man she was seeing—was taking her to Paris for the holiday. So she went. We never heard from her again. I don’t even know if she’s alive, or where she is,” she stated matter-of-factly. She didn’t really have any emotional trauma over the issue anymore.
“That must have been a huge blow.”
“Yes, it was. Dad was never the same. He worked hard, made a decent living and we had a good life, but I guess our life wasn’t glamorous enough for her. He worked a lot, long hours—”
“I meant for you, Joy. Sure it was hard on your father, but he was an adult. What about you? To have your mother leave you like that. How old were you?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Nine.”
“Old enough to know what was happening.”
“I understood as much as I was able, yes. I heard them arguing the night she left. I took care of him the best I could—we took care of each other, I guess.”
“It sounds like it was difficult for both of you, but to never have Christmas again? That’s harsh for a kid.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want it either. If I had asked, he would have done it, but it reminded me of everything bad, too, so why bother? I guess I still feel that way about the holiday.”
She was partly lying. A few years after her mother had gone, she had often wished her dad could celebrate Christmas with her. She would sometimes sit in school and fantasize what gift he would buy her, or how they might decorate the house or send out cards, the way other kids did. Those things had never happened, and she’d loved him enough not to ask for them. She hadn’t wanted to cause him more pain. So she’d shut down her own emotions and memories as well, learned to temper her expectations.
“It wasn’t right, Joy, and it obviously affected you—question is how long are you going to let your past dictate your present?”
“Rafe, Christmas is one thing, but I’m not passionate about anything! I’m good at my job, but I’m not wild with excitement about it. I was in a meeting today about the best color for new toys and I could not have cared less. I don’t have hobbies or boyfriends, and I’m not even that good at sex, because I’m lacking basic passion. That’s it. That’s the bottom of it.”
Rafe was stunned at the tirade, and not entirely sure how to respond.
“You were led to this conclusion because?”
She dropped her head back, groaning. “Ken, my boss, he told me I was a strong contender, maybe the best, for the new position I wanted.”
Rafe smiled, unsure how this fit in, but going with it. “That’s terrific news!”
“Yes, but he also suggested that while I am very good at my job, I don’t have passion for it. Ken says maybe I should rethink if I want the new position, because it demands
She made a face when she said the word, crossing her arms tightly in front of her in what Rafe recognized from life with his sisters as a classic female defensive posture. “This is the one thing that I do not have, apparently, across all areas of my life. I’m passionless.”
Rafe wasn’t sure how to respond, but he took in her deflated, disgruntled posture as she slumped away from him on the sofa, and did the only thing he could do, under the circumstances. He burst out laughing.
He laughed, in fact, so hard that he started to tear up, and could hardly defend himself against the repeated thumps with the bolster pillow that Joy was hitting him with.
“What is so funny, exactly?” she demanded, up on her knees and lording over him with the pillow, her face fierce, which made him laugh all the more—she made quite the picture.
“You—you are. The fact that you think you don’t have any passion is one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard.”
“I don’t have it, Rafe, I really don’t. It all makes sense now—the job, the sex, everything.”
“I personally disagree, especially about the sex, but do you think maybe you might have grown up thinking passion was a bad thing? Passion was the reason your mother left your father, and took off to Europe with another man. So it got a pretty bad rap even when you were a kid.”
She sat up straight, and he could see the thought take root in her mind.
Joy sat back on the sofa, stunned by the revelation. She was a thirty-year-old woman who’d spent her life, even as a child, holding tightly onto any emotion, not letting anything squeak out, lest it lead her down the same path her mother had gone. She’d been living her life by rote, and she’d never even known it.
“Joy?”
“Oh, God, Rafe … I’ve been so stupid. I never even realized what’s been missing in my life, how afraid I’ve been of everything that’s asked me to make any small emotional investment. It’s all been locked up inside, all this time….”
“Coming out in your dreams, though … I guess it was time for you to have this realization. My mother always says things happen when we’re ready for them to happen.”
“I don’t know how I could have lived this way for so long, not really caring about anything, just going through the motions.”
“Well, maybe it’s not quite that drastic. You cared about your father enough to set your own needs aside, and you care about your friends, like Pam, obviously, and you care about Second Chance—you seem pretty passionate about that to me. You’ve been really excited about the party, and even about Christmas, the last few days,” he offered.
“I do feel differently about my work at the shelter. I never thought about it as work, per se, so I didn’t make the connection to how much more involved I am there than at my regular job. I guess that’s what Ken means about passion. I had it, have it, I just didn’t see it.”
“Well, it can go both ways—I loved my job with complete passion, and I think I might have been a little too obsessed with it, to a degree that I burnt out, and now I have nothing else to do. It’s not a great feeling.”
She lifted her eyes to his, and the zap of heat in her gaze, of understanding, sympathy, and
“I think you were probably astonishing at your job, but maybe when one passion flags, there’s a reason, and it’s time to find another,” she said softly, reaching up to touch his face. Something good—something very good—was happening between them, and for the moment, Rafe didn’t care to talk about work anymore.
“I never knew passion before. Until you,” she confessed.
Rafe rubbed his hands lightly up and down her arms. “You’re a passionate woman, Joy. I’ve known it from the moment I … heard you. Definitely when I touched you.”
“Rafe,” she whispered as he eased back the jacket from her arms and started unbuttoning her shirt, dragging his knuckle along her collarbone.
“You’re so soft…. Your skin is like butter, but you’re strong, too. It’s very sexy,” he added, unhooking her bra and working it downward.
“Rafe … how can you be thinking of sex right now? When we’re having this serious talk?”
“I think of sex whenever I look at you, think about you, and most definitely when I’m next to you. You’re the first woman to turn me on in a long time, Joy—you have no idea. The insomnia, and the stress from the job … I haven’t been with anyone in a while. My passions were robbed from me, too, but you’ve helped bring them back to life.”
His hands covered her breasts, massaging gently, and her heartbeat quickened.
She wound her arms around his neck. “Really? You haven’t been with anyone since you started losing sleep?”
“Before that, even. I haven’t been in the mood. I don’t know why. I still can’t sleep, but I sure enjoy being awake more than I have for a long time,” he said against her skin as he bent to plant kisses across her midriff. “I am most definitely in the mood.”
“Rafe, what about the tree?” she asked, relaxing into his touch and encouraging him to continue his exploration.