Window Shopping

His meaning isn’t only physical, it’s emotional, and I can’t shy away from that. Not when he makes love to me again and I have nowhere to look but his eyes, reading the promises there. And coming close, so close, to making some of my own. There’s something holding me back from diving in uninhibited to what Aiden is offering me that I can’t quite name, but I bury the doubt in kisses and arches of my back until he stops looking too deeply and gives in to the bliss.

For now, we’re…we’re a we. We’re real.

I’ll take on tomorrow when it gets here.

15

Aiden

It’s Christmas Eve. And while holiday music might be pumping through the speakers onto the main floor of Vivant, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra is the song I’m hearing in my head. The horn section goes for its big moment and I flash back to this morning, waking up next to Stella. Drinking coffee with our legs crisscrossed in the sheets, watching the sun come up over Manhattan. Coming out of the shower a while later and finding she’d made us breakfast. Toast and eggs and half a leftover donut. It was obvious she hadn’t cooked in a while and was self-conscious about her efforts, so I ate it all without taking a single breath and the smile…I can’t stop thinking about the bemused smile she gave me.

Now it’s late afternoon and I’m collecting sales reports from each department. Normally this task wouldn’t fall to me, but I let some of our managerial staff go early, despite the store being busier than I can ever remember seeing it.

On my way toward the back of the main floor, I have to weave through customers who are purchasing last-minute gifts for loved ones. They’re harried and red-cheeked from the cold outside. Indecisive. Classic last-minute shoppers that were brought in off the street by our new eye-catching window displays. I’d bet anything on it.

Our social media following has quadrupled in the last week, according to Leland. We’re getting tagged in pictures taken by passersby on the street. The new window, featuring makeup and skincare items, has been a particular favorite, inspiring people to pose like the mannequin and call it the #VivantChallenge. I can’t comprehend or predict that kind of thing, but I do know this: Stella’s talent is the cause. The renewed interest in our store is not an accident. There’s something special inside of her, she’s sharing it with the public and they’re responding.

Almost to the rear of the main floor now, I pass the jewelry case and an engagement ring twinkles up at me. Now, Lord knows it’s way too soon for me to stop in my tracks and casually, very casually, lean down to look through the glass. But sue a man for dreaming.

And that’s all I can do for now. Hell, Stella is still having a hard time committing to spending the night at my place. She has gone back and forth about it every night this week, right down until the last second when she finally lets me pull her into the backseat of my town car and buckle her seatbelt. There are moments when I swear we’re sharing a mind. That we’re looking at our soul mate and both of us damn well knows it. But there are other moments where I can see her looking for the parachute tab, prepared to pull.

I pat the glass of the ring case twice and walk away. I’m getting way ahead of myself. Of course I am. Just because I know in my bones that she’s mine doesn’t necessarily mean I’m hers, does it? Like she told me, she’s still finding her footing after the last four years. All I can do is be patient and support her…and hope that when she does get steadier on her feet, she still wants to stand beside me.

Massaging away the object in my throat, I take the elevator to the second floor, jolting a little when a dozen customers are waiting to board the elevator once I vacate. Younger clientele than we’re used to browse the aisles. Sales associates don’t have to pretend they’re busy when they see me coming, because they are actually busy. “Silver Bells” plays over the loudspeaker, paper shopping bags crinkle…and there’s a muffled sound of laughter coming from the dressing rooms. Glad the customers are enjoying themselves, I continue on my way—but I halt in the middle of the aisle when Stella’s laugh reaches me.

What is she doing in the dressing room?

Granted, she’s done working on holiday-themed windows for the year. This week has been spent sketching out ideas for spring designs and budgeting for materials. Historically, our window dressers have never had an office at Vivant, generally using the storeroom as their base and doing a lot of work from home. And I know it’s special treatment, okay? But I had Seamus clear some boxes from the storeroom and bring in a desk, so she’d have a place to imagine what’s next. Stella read me the riot act about favoritism, but hell if she didn’t kiss me in the same breath, so I’m standing by the decision.