A Second Chance Road Trip for Christmas Read online

  Except their families were always home, and the cars were often in use.

  Then there had been a big snowfall, and he’d done a little research online about making structurally-stable snow forts. He’d built quite an elaborate one, though he didn’t put a roof on it, afraid it would collapse—he used a tarp instead. And then he’d brought her to the park at the edge of town, asked her to close her eyes, and led her inside.

  She’d been delighted.

  For three days, they’d spent a lot of time in the snow fort. They could make out in peace and quiet, and he’d bring a big thermos of tea to keep them warm. But then a bunch of kids had knocked it down.

  It was a pleasant memory, as were most of his memories of their time together. They had completely opposite personalities, but they’d fit together well, and when she got on his nerves, he’d still felt an annoyed affection for her. He just hadn’t let himself reminisce in a long time, because after their break-up, it had been too painful.

  Their relationship had gone out with a whimper, not a bang. No big fight. Neither of them had met someone else.

  But it was hard to maintain a relationship when you were going to university in different cities.

  When they were in their final year of high school, she’d dreamed of studying engineering science at U of T, with the plan of specializing in aerospace engineering in third year, and he’d hoped to do systems engineering at Waterloo, which was known for its co-op program.

  They’d both gotten into the programs they wanted, and they’d talked about it a lot, but neither of them had felt like the other person should make sacrifices so they could be together. Conventional wisdom said you shouldn’t make your decision about university based on where your boyfriend or girlfriend was going.

  So they hadn’t.

  Many people also said you shouldn’t marry your high school sweetheart.

  Greg’s parents had started dating in high school, though, and secretly, he’d thought he and Tasha would end up together, like his parents. Sure, he constantly heard about how these strong emotions were just a teenage thing, blah, blah, blah, but he hadn’t believed that.

  “No other man has ever built me a snow fort,” Tasha said.

  “Or gotten you stranded in a crappy motel near Strathroy.”

  “You’re not blaming that on me being twenty-seven minutes late?”

  He shrugged. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t actually mind being trapped in a motel room with Tasha Edwards, much to his surprise.

  “Do you like living in Toronto?” she asked. “I do. It’s all that I wanted it to be, and it’s hard for me to imagine living in a small town now.”

  “I like it. I plan to stay.” He’d first started thinking about moving to Toronto back when he and Tasha were together—he thought he’d go to school in Waterloo, then move to Toronto with her, since she’d always dreamed of living in the big city. Once he graduated, there was no girlfriend in the picture, but he got an offer for a decent job in Toronto, and so he stuck with that part of his plan. He’d been there for over a decade now, and it was hard for him to imagine living elsewhere, too.

  His phone rang, and he picked it up.

  “Greg!” said a loud voice.

  “Hi, Ah Ma.”

  “You kiss yet?”

  Well, his grandmother had certainly gotten straight to the point.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced over at Tasha. He imagined putting his arms around her again and—

  “No,” he said curtly, very much aware that Tasha could hear anything he said. She was texting now, a slight smile on her lips.

  “You are sharing a room, I hope?” Ah Ma asked.

  It was so weird. When you were a teenager, your parents and grandparents were always trying to prevent you from having a little alone time with your girlfriend. When you were thirty-four and they feared you’d never get married, they were desperately trying to throw you together with your ex.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “There is only one bed? When I read romance books, this is what always happens.”

  “Yes.”

  She cackled, then turned away from the phone and said loudly, “They have to share a bed!”

  Great. Now everyone in his family would know his business.

  There was silence on the other end of the phone for the moment, and then a male voice spoke. “You need any advice on how to make a move?”

  It was Nick, who was two years younger than Greg, and, admittedly, much more well-versed in the art of seduction.

  But Greg did not need advice from his brother, and he was not trying to seduce Tasha.

  “Mind your own business,” he snapped.

  Tasha chuckled. Her face was framed by her long braids, and God, why was that toque with the pom-pom so cute on her?

  “You still like her?” Nick asked.

  Greg grunted.

  “I’ll take that to mean, ‘Yes, absolutely, I want to jump her bones.’”

  “Stop being so crude.”

  “You definitely want her.”

  “Nick...”

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone before another voice said, “I ate all of your prime rib. Mm, was it ever good.”

  That was Zach.

  Annoying little brothers. Why did Greg have two of them? And why did everyone in his family feel the need to speak to him on the phone so they could make more or less the same comments? It was a waste of time when he could be...well, not kissing Tasha, but quietly reading next to her or having a pleasant conversation. Preferable to dealing with his family.

  His stomach rumbled at the thought of that prime rib. That granola bar hadn’t been nearly as satisfying.

  “Tell Tasha I say hi.” Zach spoke in a singsong voice, clearly amused by the situation.

  This was another comment that was best responded to with a grunt.

  “You know, women like when you talk to them,” Zach said.

  “My specialty is listening,” Greg said.

  “And grunting.”

  “Grunting is very useful. It expresses a wide range of emotions.”

  Next to him, Tasha doubled over in laughter.

  “Do you grunt a lot when you have sex?” Zach asked.

  “I am not talking about my sex life with you,” Greg replied.

  Tasha’s cheeks looked a little flushed now. He imagined her underneath him...

  No, not happening.

  “Okay, okay,” Zach said. “I’ll be good.”

  “Yeah, right,” Greg muttered.

  “Lily made Nanaimo bars and Mom made cheesecake, but it’s all gone now.”

  Truth be told, Greg didn’t particularly like Nanaimo bars, but he wanted some damn cheesecake. It was his favorite dessert. His mom had given him the recipe, but his never turned out quite as good. Besides, what was the point of making a whole cheesecake when you lived alone? He didn’t need that much cheesecake.

  “Thanks for making me hungry,” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” Zach said cheerfully. “Anytime. Dad wants to talk to you now.”

  Their father’s voice came over the phone. “Glad you’re safe. It looks nasty out there.”

  “It is,” Greg said.

  “You know, the cheesecake was really good.”

  Okay, that was enough. “I’m getting off the phone now. See you tomorrow.”

  Greg ended the call and shook his head.

  “‘Grunting is very useful and expresses a wide range of emotions,’” Tasha said in a fake deep voice.

  “Thank you.” He kept his expression stern, but admittedly, he enjoyed when she teased him.

  She looked down at her phone.

  “What are you doing now?” he asked.

  “Talking to the guy I’m seeing.”

  He couldn’t help the jealousy that coursed through him, but he shouldn’t be jealous. Sure, he could appreciate that Tasha was a good-looking woman, and he still liked spending time with her, but that was
all. She wasn’t his; she could date whomever she liked.

  “We’ve just been on a couple dates,” she said. “Nothing serious. He’s not my boyfriend, and we’re not spending the holidays together. But he’s a good guy.”

  Unsure what to say but feeling he should acknowledge her words, Greg grunted.

  See? It really was a useful sound.

  “You seeing anyone?” she asked, putting aside her phone.

  “Nah,” he said. “Not for a while now.”

  “Oh.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Are you—”

  Before she could finish her question, the lights went out.

  Chapter 6

  Tasha tried the lamp next to the bed.

  Nope, nothing. As expected.

  She couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter.

  The situation was so ridiculous. She was sitting in bed with her high school boyfriend, whom she’d hardly seen in fifteen years, as a snowstorm raged outside. There was no heat, and now, no power.

  Across the bed, Greg’s laughter rumbled, causing a pleasant vibration in her chest.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine, though I guess the space heater won’t do much for us now.”

  “Do you want one of the sleeping bags or the extra blanket?”

  “Actually, yeah. The extra blanket would be good.”

  The mattress shifted as Greg got up. Soon, it dipped again as he climbed back in bed, and in the dark, she was acutely aware of his nearness.

  For some reason, it felt like the sleepovers she’d gone to in elementary school. The lights were out, and they could giggle and talk about their secrets.

  He placed the blanket over her, and she pulled it up to her neck.

  “So, you haven’t dated in a while,” she said, returning to their conversation. “Like I told you, I’m surprised you’re not married. You’re the sort of man that a woman would settle down with—stable, kind, good job—versus the kind of man she’d have a hot fling with when she’s young.”

  “You dated me when we were young.”

  Oh. She realized how it had sounded. “Not that we didn’t have fun together. Not that the sex wasn’t good. You’re just husband material. I mean it as a compliment.”

  “I know.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “So tell me.” She was suddenly quite curious. “How many relationships have you had since we broke up?”

  “Three. All lasted more than a year.”

  That sounded like Greg. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d bounce from one woman to another, and he wasn’t scared of commitment.

  “None of them were quite right, though,” he said. “They didn’t last as long as we did. And I’m terrible at meeting women. That involves, you know, socializing.” He made a sound of displeasure. “I know that, since I’d like a relationship, I should put myself out there, but I’m not great at it. And online dating...”

  “What’s wrong with it? That way, you don’t actually have to speak to someone right away. Just swipe right and send a message.”

  “I feel like I don’t understand the social conventions. I tried, but very few women contacted me or replied to my messages, the rare times I sent them. Perhaps my profiles could have used some work.”

  “Ooh, I could help you with that!”

  “Get in line,” he said. “Nick, Zach, Amber, and Ah Ma have already offered their assistance.”

  “I’m not sure you should be taking online dating advice from your grandma.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “How old are your grandparents? My mom sees them about town on occasion.”

  “Eighty-eight and eighty-nine.”

  She looked away for a moment, though she couldn’t see him in the dark anyway. Her grandparents would be over ninety if they were still alive. She missed them.

  Greg’s hand settled on her shoulder, just for a second, before he withdrew. “I listed my interests as CBC Radio, model trains, birdwatching, stamp-collecting, and documentaries.”

  She couldn’t suppress a fond smile. It was so Greg.

  “You should have added ‘baking.’ That would interest some women.” He’d baked for her a bunch of times. Chocolate chip cookies and other things. All delicious.

  “I’ll keep it under consideration. But online dating made me nervous and uncomfortable, so I let myself take a break. And most women our age seem to be in a relationship.”

  Except her.

  “Someday, though,” he said, “I’ll try again.”

  She could hear the yearning in his voice. When they were younger, he’d talked of getting married and having a small family. She knew it was still what he wanted; Greg wasn’t someone who changed his mind about such things.

  He wouldn’t want four children like his parents had, but he’d want one or two. They’d drive him crazy and mess up his ordered life, something she knew he secretly enjoyed.

  There was a pang in her heart. She still cared for him, and she wanted him to have everything he desired.

  She pictured them in the kitchen together, making cookies for their two small children, then shook her head.

  He was part of her past, not her future.

  When she got sad about her dating life, she reminded herself that tomorrow was another day, and sure, her biological clock was ticking, but she still had a little time. That was how she kept her spirits up, kept putting herself out there again and again.

  Always forward, never back.

  Why, there was already a nice man who liked her.

  “Perhaps,” Greg mused, “the problem is that I never ask women to come upstairs and see my model trains.”

  “Like asking a lady to come upstairs and see your etchings.”

  “Precisely. Or ‘Netflix and chill.’”

  She laughed, imagining him asking a woman, very seriously, to watch Netflix and chill.

  “So, model trains, eh?” she said, finding that rather adorable for some reason. “You spend your free time listening to CBC, painting little trees and figurines, and watching your little train chugging through your model mountain?”

  “How did you know there was a mountain?”

  “Oh, I just do.”

  Because she still knew him.

  Sure, he had a proper job now and he’d gotten some new hobbies, but fundamentally, he was the same.

  If he asked her to come up to see his model train, she’d probably say yes, and he’d undress her with extreme care...and afterward, he really would show her the model train.

  “What about you?” he asked. “I thought you’d be married by now, too.”

  “Why did you think that?”

  He made some inarticulate noises, then said, “You’re smart and beautiful. Then and now.” He spoke as though it was an indisputable fact.

  She hesitated. “I wish it had happened, but it didn’t. Sometimes, I feel like it’s greedy to want a career and a family—”

  “Nobody tells men that they can’t have it all, and we get praised when we take our own kids to the park. You can want it all, too.”

  “I want what my parents have.”

  “Me, too.” He paused. “This guy you were texting—did you meet him online?”

  “Yeah. He was the first guy who hadn’t opened with a dick pic in a depressingly long time. His name is Crispin.”

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have told Greg that. It felt weird.

  Crispin was an outgoing man who worked in sales. They’d had fun on their dates, and the kissing had been good, but they hadn’t gone any further. She’d texted him earlier, after Greg had given her hot chocolate and a Coffee Crisp, to remind herself that she had other options. Maybe Crispin could be the one, or...

  “Maybe I have unrealistic expectations when it comes to dating,” she said.

  “Expecting men not to send you unsolicited dick pics is very reasonable.”

  It was weird to hear “dick pic” in Greg’s sensible vo
ice.

  “It’s much more than that. I want to just know.”

  “I understand.”

  When he was on the phone with his family, he’d said his specialty was listening—in response to what, she wasn’t quite sure.

  But, yeah, he was a good listener. You always felt like he was giving you his undivided attention, seriously considering whatever you said, no matter how trivial or silly. And while he liked when things made sense logically, he accepted that not everything worked that way.

  He’d told her once that half the reason he loved her was because she was pretty and smart and fun...and many other adjectives. The other half, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to explain. It simply was.

  Not knowing what to say now, she asked, “Do you really birdwatch?”

  He didn’t question the change in topic. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t think I’d have the patience.”

  “That’s fair.”

  They were quiet for a moment in the darkness of their cold hotel room, and then there was a very loud squeak next door, followed by more squeaks in a slow, steady rhythm.

  * * *

  The people in the next room were having sex. Greg was certain of it.

  And here, on the other side of the wall, he and Tasha were having a conversation in bed in the dark, and it couldn’t help feeling intimate.

  He couldn’t deny it: he wanted to make the bed springs squeak with Tasha, too. Not just because it had been a long time since he’d had sex, but because it was her.

  The bed springs next door continued to squeak. Tasha laughed, and Greg joined her.

  “Why did we break up?” he asked suddenly.

  “We were drifting apart. It was hard to maintain a relationship when we went to different schools.”

  He knew that, but he’d wanted to hear her answer. “What if I’d gone to U of T with you?”

  “I couldn’t have asked you to do that. You wanted the co-op program, and you wanted systems engineering.”

  “And I couldn’t have asked you to give up what you wanted, either. But what if—”

  “Greg,” she said. “Don’t.”

  “Maybe we should have tried harder.”

  But they’d been in university, and that had been their priority. Focusing on school had seemed like the right thing to do.