Bright Lights, Big Christmas(60)

Kerry stood too. “Can I ask for a favor?”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. “Depends on what it is.”

“I’d give anything for a long, hot shower before I have to leave. It’s been two days and I’ve got a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.”

“Deal. But only if I get to join you.”

“Patrick…”

“We’ll lock the bathroom door,” he promised. He pulled down the waistband of his jeans, showing off the pattern of red and green reindeer. “See? Just for you.”



* * *



When the hot water finally gave out and they were both pink and afterglowing, Patrick went to check on his son while Kerry got dressed. She tiptoed out of the bathroom and found him in the hallway, standing outside Austin’s closed bedroom door.

“And to all a good night,” he said. “This time, there’s no faking it. He’s fast asleep.” Patrick caught her hand in his and led her to the darkened living room and the bank of windows. “Look at it out there.”

What Kerry saw was a curtain of white. The outsides of the windowpanes were rimmed with ice, and below, in the park, the trees, cars, and even Spammy were covered in a thick blanket of snow. The multicolored lights shone through the snow shower. She shivered despite the layers of clothing she was wearing.

“I think you need to stay,” he said. “It’ll be totally innocent. I’ll sleep on the sofa, you can have the bed, and in the morning, we’ll explain to Austin that the weather was too nasty for you to leave.”

“You sound like that pervvy old Christmas song, ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside,’” Kerry said. “I wish I could stay, but I can’t. Queenie will need a walk, and Murphy has been very clear that we need to break down the stand and hit the road first thing in the morning.”

“I’m not just talking about tomorrow,” Patrick said. “Can we sit by the fire and talk before you rush off into a blizzard?”

“Just for a minute,” Kerry conceded. She’d checked her phone. It was after one. She followed him to the fireplace and sat down on the sofa.

“We never finished discussing your long-term plans,” Patrick said. “I know you’re not looking forward to going back to North Carolina, to moving in with your mom again. I’m not trying to put words in your mouth—or maybe I am, but it sounds to me like you were feeling stuck back there. And being here, in New York, could be a way to get unstuck. Creatively, and personally. And yeah, if you were here, I’d like to think we could be together.”

“You’re right, on all counts. But I have to be realistic. Even if my freelance career was flourishing, which it’s not, let me remind you again, I can’t afford to live in this city. Or anywhere near it.”

“You could live with me,” Patrick said. “My studio’s not very big, but it’s workable. And we’d be together.”

“No thanks,” she said firmly. “I appreciate the offer, but I won’t move from sponging off my mom to sponging off you. Besides,” she said, lightly touching his chin. “You’ve known me for less than a month. We haven’t even had a real date yet. How do you know I’m not a psychopathic killer? Don’t you think moving in together is a pretty big step?”

He shook his head stubbornly, and she saw where Austin got his obstinate streak. “Doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other. When it’s right, it’s right. We’re good together. And I believe in you, Kerry, and in your talent. You can totally make a living with your art…”

She let out a long sigh. “This is a lot for me to think about.”

“Yeah. It’s called adulting. So what do you say?”

She jumped up from the sofa, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door. “I gotta go. Poor Queenie needs to be let out to pee. It’s late…”

“Are you running away from me now?” Patrick asked.

“I … I … I’ll call you in the morning,” Kerry stammered, and she fled the apartment, as though she were being chased by Hans Gruber himself.





chapter 44





“Kerry! Kerry!” Someone was pounding on the camper door. “Hey! Unlock the door!”

It was Murphy. She sat up, and Queenie, who’d burrowed under the covers beside her sometime during the night, gave a brief yelp of protest.

The temperature inside the trailer was like a deep freezer. Colder, if possible, than it had been when she’d returned there just a few hours earlier. She switched the tiny light sconce by her bunk, but nothing happened. She glanced at the woefully inadequate space heater she’d turned on the night before; it wasn’t functioning. The power was off.

“Come on, Kere. I’m freezing. There must be a foot of snow out here.”

She wrapped a sleeping bag around her shoulders and pulled on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. She jiggled it furiously.

“I think the lock is frozen,” she called.

“Well, unfreeze it. Use your hair dryer or something.”

“Can’t. I think the power’s off. That’s why the lock is frozen.”

“Okay, now I see the issue. The extension cord was so loaded down with ice it broke. Dammit,” Murphy muttered. “Be right back.”