“Oh, um, I hadn’t gotten that far yet,” Noelle murmured, not looking at me.
“That’s usually our plan, but I wasn’t sure if Remy would still be here?” Connie looked over at me, a question in her eyes.
“I’m going to be in Vancouver with my mom and brothers,” I said quietly, though I was a little annoyed that Noelle had apparently made her decision about Christmas without even talking to me.
“Noelle makes the absolute best prime rib,” Connie said. “It’s the most amazing meal we eat all year.”
“We don’t have money for prime rib,” Craig muttered, picking up the burger that had just been put in front of him. “We don’t even have money for hotdogs. We should go to my stepdad’s for Christmas. At least they’ll feed us.”
“Your stepdad smokes pot in the house,” Connie said. “I’m not bringing the kids over there.”
Craig rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, Ms. Goody Two-shoes. I don’t know how I got stuck with a prude like you.”
Connie’s mouth dropped open and then she snapped it shut.
“What’s a prune, Mommy?” Alexander asked.
“It’s a fruit,” she said tightly. “But Daddy’s just joking. Anyway, what do you want Santa to bring you this year?”
The conversation switched to everything Alexander had on his holiday list, and I ate my dinner in relative silence. Noelle hadn’t looked at me since the comment about Christmas and I figured she could sense my annoyance. I was trying to be patient, but we had so little time left together and without a passport, who knew how long it would be until she could come visit me in Florida.
Unless she didn’t want to.
It occurred to me that maybe I was far more into her than she was into me. Maybe that’s why she was so reluctant to let me buy her things and do nice things for her. She liked me, but didn’t see a future for us, and was just enjoying the fun and sex we were having until I left.
I’d never been in a position like this before, where I was falling head over heels for a woman who was determined to keep me at arm’s length. Yes, we spent time together and couldn’t keep our hands off each other, but whenever we talked about the future, families, when we’d see each other again, she tended to get quiet. I’d thought by inviting her to Christmas she’d see my feelings for her, but maybe not. Maybe her goals in life didn’t include being with a washed-up, albeit rich, retired hockey player, moving to an intracoastal town, and living and breathing hockey for the foreseeable future.
Maybe she wanted a simpler guy. Someone who’d pay more attention to her than I would once hockey season got underway. Someone who’d put her first. And that probably wasn’t me.
Was it?
I was in a pretty bad mood by the time Connie, Craig, and the kids took off, and Noelle and I headed out.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked once we were in the SUV. “You haven’t said five words in the last hour.”
I shrugged. “Not mad. Maybe a little disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” She cocked her head.
“Christmas, Noelle. You made the decision not to spend it with me without even another discussion, and frankly, that kind of tells me I’m not a priority in your life.”
“First of all, Connie caught me by surprise—I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about it yet—and I didn’t want to have any kind of conversation in front of Craig. I haven’t decided anything, but if we’re being honest, how can I make you a priority? You’re leaving tomorrow and it’s probably going to be months before we see each other again, if at all.”
“If at all?” I turned toward her. “What does that mean?”
“It just means I’m realistic.”
“About what? Us seeing each other again? You think that little of me, that I’d offer to pay your passport fees specifically so you can come visit me, and then just disappear?”
“You wouldn’t be the first guy who did something like that, and that’s one of the reasons I’m reluctant about spending Christmas with you and your family. We don’t know if we’re going to see each other again, and getting to know your family will just make it that much harder when we say goodbye.”
“Wow.” That hurt. I figured she must have a history with men who had treated her badly, but I deserved better because I’d bent over backwards to show her I wasn’t like that. I wanted to see where this thing with us was going, but now it felt strikingly apparent that it wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I feel like we’ve gotten our wires crossed.”
“I feel like you’ve written us off without even giving us a chance,” I said. “But that’s okay. I’m leaving for Vancouver tomorrow and I guess I’ll head straight to Florida after Christmas.”
“You’re not coming back?” she asked after a slight hesitation.
I pulled into the arena parking lot, since that’s where she’d left her car. “I was going to, but I think maybe you’re right, that it’s better not to get too involved.”
“What about the arena?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’m going to make some decisions once I get to my mom’s and I’ll let you know.”
A strange, awkward silence filled the air and neither of us moved or said anything for at least a couple of minutes.
“So is this…goodbye?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“That’s up to you.”
“Can you…I mean, can we, um, take a couple of days to think? I don’t want it to end this way.”
I didn’t want it to end at all, but I was tired of chasing her. At some point, she needed to let me catch her because this game was getting old. It had only been about twenty days, so not even three full weeks, but I’d thought we had something special. Either she didn’t agree or there was something in her life keeping her from letting herself be with me.
I reached out and took her hand. “I don’t know what your secrets are, or why you’ve refused to truly open up to me, but I think at this point you have a decision to make.”
“What decision?” She was staring down at our linked hands.
“Do you want to try or not.” I held up a finger when she started to respond. “Just think about it. I’ll call you in a couple of days and we can talk if you want to. But if you decide you do want to talk things out, you have to tell me everything. All the things you’ve kept bottled up, all the secrets you’re too stubborn to share. Either we’re in it or we’re not; there’s no in-between.”
She looked up and her big green eyes were filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Me too.” I brushed the tears away with my knuckles. “Don’t cry, okay? It’s not a bad thing to do a little soul-searching.”
“Okay.”
I leaned over and brushed my lips across her forehead. “I’ll wait until you’re in your car.”
“I left my bag inside, so I’ve got to go get it,” she said. “You don’t have to wait.”
“Okay.” I watched her get out of the SUV and walk into one of the back doors of the arena.