Christmas at Terminal One, page 15
Claire scoffed. “I know you’re teasing me, but seriously. I know for a fact that if we all covered our heads with plastic bags, there would be no way to spread disease.” She paused a beat, then continued deadpan. “I mean, that would be because we had suffocated and died, but still.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” said Jack, nodding towards the television. “What have you found for us to watch, anyway?”
Rubbing her hands together, Claire let out a scheming laugh. “Oh, you are in for a real treat, mister. Turns out the hotel gets the perfect channels for a Christmas Eve Eve marathon. We can choose between a channel that appears to have nothing but Hallmark movies on it…”
“And?” Jack asked with a slight wince. “Die Hard? Please tell me the other option is Die Hard.”
Claire shrugged. “It might be. But I’m not sure if it matters because the other option is dubbed movies. Mostly Christmas ones by the looks of it, but my German isn’t that good. Does Stirb langsam sound like the German version of Die Hard?”
“Beats me.” Jack took another sip of his coffee. “And as much as I enjoy Die Hard, my German skills are nonexistent. Hallmark it is then, I think.”
Switching on the TV, Claire nodded at him. “That’s what I was thinking, too. Though we can always give ourselves a little German immersion experience if we get tired of the small town country mouse showing the big important city mouse the meaning life and love.”
“And the meaning of Christmas,” added Jack. “You can’t forget about the kindly old man who is actually secretly Santa Claus. That’s an essential element of the story, too.”
Claire turned to look at him, a suspicion playing in the back of her mind. “Aha!” she crowed, “So you’re not a Hallmark newbie at all. Seems like you might even be a bit of an expert, judging by how well you know the tropes.”
“We might not call it Christmas Eve Eve, but Hazel and I are no strangers to the Hallmark channel. If I want to hang out with her during the holidays, it’s pretty much guaranteed that one of these movies is going to be playing in the background.” He shrugged. “Okay, and sometimes not just the background. If the story gets going, we usually end up dropping whatever we were talking about and just watching.”
“And you like them? The movies?” It was hard to explain what Claire’s chest was doing at that moment. She already knew Jack was a good brother, that he cared about his sister and her happiness more than she had come to expect from most of the men in her life. But he just kept taking things to a new level, raising the bar higher and higher of her expectations for the male species.
“Of course,” he said with a nod. “Not all stories are equally good, of course. But the story pulls us in, no matter what. Some evolutionary mechanism or something. It’s like we’re sitting around the campfire learning about our origins again.”
“Right,” said Claire with a roll of her eyes. “It’s all about oral tradition and evolution and nothing whatsoever to do with the uniquely gifted writers who work for Hallmark.” She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Or is it the small town romance thing? You’re a sucker for a love story set on a Christmas tree farm in danger of being sold to build luxury condos. Ooh, or a bed and breakfast about to get bought out by a hotel. Hmm, or let me guess? Uh…a tractor dealership that’s going to start selling sports cars instead?”
Jack leaned forward, picked up a bar of chocolate and tossed it right at Claire. It smacked her lightly on the upper arm and then dropped into her lap. “That’s enough teasing from you. Don’t tell me you’re a snob about Christmas movies or the people who love them.”
She glared at him then. “Is it even possible for that to be true? Let’s consider that this was my idea and that I write what many people might consider cheesy love stories for a living. The last thing I’m going to do is be snobby about a happily ever after, no matter where it comes from.”
“Okay then. So we agree.” Jack opened a box of cookies, held it out for Claire to take one, and then leaned back against the headboard. “Enough talking. Time to watch.”
Four hours later, Clare yawned and groaned as she stretched her arms above her head. Her gaze fell on Jack, who looked just as bleary-eyed and exhausted as she felt.
“I never thought I’d say this,” she said, as she leaned forward on her knees to start gathering up the snacks that had spread across the comforter, “But I think it might actually be time to get out of this bed.” She held up one hand in response to the protest she imagined Jack was making. “I know, I know. You could stay here all day and never get tired of it—”
“I could,” he said, with a serious note in his deep voice that made her stop what she was doing, turn and look at him. “I know you’re kidding, and I know you’re mostly talking about the quality of our entertainment. But given the option of staying in this bed with you for a whole day, a whole weekend…” He shook his head. “I would be a fool to say no to that.”
Claire gulped. This was the most they had spoken since the movie marathon had begun, one and a half Christmas movies and one German-dubbed Die Hard ago. They had laughed, exchanged a comment here and there, but for the most part it had been a comfortable silence. They had moved closer too, under the pretense of more easily sharing the box of cherry cordials, but Claire hadn’t moved back to her side of the bed even after they had both stopped eating.
She took a moment to weigh her options of how to respond to Jack. She could tease him, play it off as a joke, dispel the tension. Or she could respond to his vulnerability, his honesty, with a little bit of her own. It was almost Christmas, after all. Didn’t she owe him that much?
“I…really like it, too,” she said, only able to hold his eyes for half a second before her gaze dropped down to her hands. “It’s so fun, so comfortable, to just be with you. Not at all what I expected.” She darted a glance towards the television, her teeth finding her lower lip. “I just feel like I’ll regret it if we don’t go out and enjoy the Christmas market one last time while we have it. And I don’t want to mess up your Munich trip by depriving you of it, either.”
“Hey.” There was that serious tone again. Claire looked up to find Jack looking at her with an intensity that almost made her shiver. “I don’t care what we do next, as long as we do it together. If you want to go to that market, I’ll be right there by your side. And if you want to sit here for another six hours, I…well, I can’t promise I’ll stay awake for it, but I’m not going anywhere. So…it’s really your choice then. Go see some Christmas lights and drink some mulled wine, or stay right here where we are and wake up in the morning after unwittingly falling asleep together in the same bed.” He winked at her then. “Your call, Davis.”
I want both, Claire thought. I want it all. I want to go wherever you go, too. I want to see and experience and taste all that life and this city has to offer and I want you to be there for it, too. And then I want to fall asleep next to you and do it again the next day.
She didn’t know how to say all of that to him, though, because surely it was too much. It sounded more like a proposal or a vow, and she’d only met the guy yesterday.
So she chose the safest option. The one that didn’t have the two of them snuggled up against the same headboard, only moments away from falling asleep under the same cozy blanket. Claire bolted to her feet then, focusing her attention as far away from Jack and the equally cozy pillows and chest that were already beckoning her back to the bed.
“Christmas market!” she cried, digging through her open suitcase to gather her clothes. “We should go.” She was speaking to Jack over her shoulder, still not looking at him. “I don’t want us to regret missing it. It’s not like there won’t be movies on the plane tomorrow, but I doubt they’ll have mulled wine.” That, and out there I won’t be tempted to rest my head on your shoulder. Won’t think about how you would react if I kissed you. Won’t feel all this tension between us so thick you actually couldn’t cut it with a knife. A chainsaw, maybe.
Claire could hear the sound of the mattress shifting, but she still didn’t look. She didn’t raise her gaze from her suitcase until Jack was almost to the door separating the bedroom from the living room. “Sounds like a great plan, Claire. Just give me a couple of minutes to get ready.” She looked at him then, but his calm demeanor gave nothing away. If he knew how wildly her heart was beating, if he had the faintest idea what was going on underneath the surface—or right out in the open for everyone to see, judging by how good Claire was at playing it cool—then he was giving nothing away. She shot him a quick smile before he closed the door, then she bolted for the bathroom with her own clothes.
She took the next few moments not only to dress herself for the chilly December day but to stare herself down in the mirror while delivering a silent pep talk through the intensity of her gaze alone.
Just…be cool. Don’t make this weird. Yes, you know he likes you. And yes, that is all sorts of terrifying, mainly because you like him, too. But tonight is not the night. No matter how romantic it gets out there and no matter how much mulled wine you both drink, it’s not going beyond flirtation. Not tonight, and maybe not ever. And no, you don’t know why he had to make all these rules, either. She shook her head at her reflection. Yes, you do. He doesn’t want this to turn into a one-night stand. A one-night city. One-night country. And you know yourself well enough to know just how quickly you would manage to sabotage yourself if things did progress like that tonight. By tomorrow morning you would have convinced yourself that there was no future, that you had made a huge mistake, and you would spend the whole plane ride home freezing him out and avoiding him. Is that what you want?
Claire exhaled a sigh at her reflection and spoke her next words out loud. “No. I don’t.” You win this one, brain.
Eighteen
Approaching the Christkindlmarkt was like stepping into one of the small town Christmas movies they had just watched, and even though they had been there just the day before, Claire felt her breath catch at the sight of the lights, the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg that were wafting her way.
“Why?” she breathed, her eyes finding Jack’s.
“Why what?” he asked, looking concerned.
“Why is it like this? Why does it feel so magical?” She shook her head. “I…I can’t explain it, not really. It just feels like a Christmas from my childhood. Like anything is possible, even a flying sleigh appearing right over our heads.”
That earned her a soft smile from Jack. “Don’t look now, but—” He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side. “No, I won’t kid with you. There is no sign of a flying sleigh, but I agree that the magic does feel just about powerful enough for that to happen.”
“Why is it like this?” They were walking through the stalls now, an unspoken decision to take in as much of the market as they could rather than making a beeline for the glühwein stand. “Why does it feel so different? Have the Germans figured out something we haven’t?”
Jack shrugged as he sighed. “I don’t think it’s that simple. I think the magic of the season is everywhere, even in New Jersey. It’s just about whether or not you’re free enough to appreciate it. Back in the States, you would probably be scrambling to get your last minute shopping done, but you don’t have that pressure on you here.” He gestured around them. “And I’m sure there are people here with mile-long to-do lists, too. Although, maybe with the whole month of December to enjoy the Christmas markets, they’re a little more on top of their holiday to-do lists.”
“Valid points,” said Claire, gesturing towards the line for the glühwein stand, then beginning to walk there at Jack’s nod.
“Of course, there’s also the fact that it’s a little easier to find the magic when you’re out of your normal environment.” He gestured to the crowd around them. “I’m sure some of these people appreciate the spirit of the season…but all of them? Do you think the Germans have somehow mastered the art of savoring the Christmas spirit, or…?” He trailed off, giving her a meaningful look.
Claire sighed. “Or do I think that people are basically the same everywhere and there are stressed out Germans here just like there are Americans who are enjoying the holiday season just as much as I am here?”
Jack shocked her then by reaching forward to boop the tip of her nose with his finger. “Ding ding ding,” he said, then grimaced. “Sorry, I don’t know why I just did that.”
But she only smiled. “No, don’t be. I kind of loved it.” The gesture had been so natural and so intimate that it was easy to imagine the ease between them was the ease of an established relationship, that his reaching out to touch her lightly on the nose was something he did all the time, either to punctuate a point he was making or to surprise her in the middle of a disagreement or simply because he knew it would make her smile.
The gesture seemed to have embarrassed him, though, because he wasn’t quite meeting her eye now. “I just think about that a lot, I guess. When people go to Italy for a week and come back raving about how everything there was so much better than back home, you know? Suddenly, they’re grumbling about everything they loved a week before. And sure, nobody does pizza better than the Italians. But you loved a New York slice last week and suddenly it’s garbage now?” Jack shook his head.
“It’s easier to find the magic when everything is new and different, but if we put in a little effort we’d see it around us, even back home?” Claire looped her arm through his. “Is that what you mean?”
“I guess so.” Jack was nodding. “There’s something about the whole idea of the grass being greener on the other side that really irks me.”
Interesting, thought Claire. She was tempted to dig a little deeper into that, but thought better of it at the distant look in Jack’s eyes. If he wanted to tell her, he would. And if he didn’t, then maybe it wasn’t any of her business after all. She stayed silent then as they took their place at the end of the line for mulled wine, taking small steps forward every few moments.
But the silence seemed to invite Jack to continue, and when he spoke next, his vulnerability surprised her. “That was what happened with my ex. A work trip, meeting someone new, and suddenly everything about me was old and tired and wrong and everything about him was new and fresh and just the perfect match for her. It didn’t happen immediately, though. It wasn’t like she came straight home and dumped me.” He shook his head, blowing out a mirthless laugh. “No, she kept me around even though everything I did seemed to either annoy or embarrass her. And she started talking about the new guy, her new work friend, every chance she got. I could see there was something there, even if she didn’t want to admit it.”
“So she dumped you for him?” Claire winced as the words came out.
But Jack was already shaking his head. “I ended things when I figured out what was going on. No need to stick around until she was well and truly sick of me.”
“And are they together now?”
“I don’t know. She even denied at the time that there was anything there, but it was so clear. So obvious. I told her I didn’t want to be anybody’s second choice, not even hers.” His smile was small and sad. “I really loved her, and I would have stuck around. Would have contorted myself into trying to make her get her feelings back. But it doesn’t work that way.”
“That’s why you’re so determined to help your sister,” Claire breathed, her voice barely a whisper.
Jack nodded. “Yeah, it was seeing Hazel go through it that made me realize what I needed to do. I did it for both of us.”
Claire leaned in to Jack’s side, overcome with affection for him. How could anybody not love him? Get tired of him? Meet someone new and think that they even compared to him, let alone were a better choice than him?
It all made sense then, especially his hesitation to take things too quickly with her. He wanted to hold on to her, to the feelings long enough to be sure that they were real.
And even as much as she wanted to push through that, to insist that they were different, that they could do whatever they wanted and be together forever no matter how things began between them…she understood. She respected his wishes, his need to take things slowly.
And if she was honest with herself, she probably needed that slow pace, too. It wasn’t as if she’d never been scared off by things getting too real too quickly. She was no stranger to the art of self sabotage.
At that thought, an awareness washed over her. Was that what was happening right now with Bianca and Velvet Leaf? Was her career, in fact, doing better than ever—hence the European tour—and the last thing her agent was about to do was give her bad news? Was she only worrying herself about it because it felt like things were too good and such a feeling could only mean the other shoe was about to fall?
But Claire shook off the thought and turned her attention back to Jack, just in time for the two of them to step up to the counter. If, by some bizarre twist of fate, her career survived until the end of the year, she would celebrate that news with Jack in New York.
It was possible that huddling around the cozy heater, insides warming from within with every sip of mulled wine, had created an infinitely more cozy and tempting atmosphere than staying in bed in their sweats.
Given that Hendrik and Jana had been with them the day before, Claire had inaccurately predicted what the environment would be like this evening. While she had expected friendly laughter and good food, maybe a little bit of shopping, instead she had stepped right into a scene that felt like it came out of a movie.
Bundled in her coat and hat, only her eyes and the tip of her nose peeking out as she smiled up at Jack, it was all Claire could do to stop herself from batting her eyelashes at him. And when he reached over and tugged the collar of her coat even higher, she nearly swooned at the action and at the care with which he handled her.
