Page 101 of My Favorite Holidate
We’re quiet for a long moment.
I glance around the suite, drinking in the woodsy decor with exposed wood beams, the Douglas fir tree rising to the ceiling with its strands of colorful lights blinking on and off as we chat late into the night, then a fireplace just for us. It’s not crackling tonight but maybe we’ll light it tomorrow. Peaked windows offer a view of the glittering mountains. Earlier, I discovered that the bathroom is well-appointed, with a rainfall shower. The carpet is so soft your toes sink into it. The bed is out-of-this-world comfy.
“Wilder?” I whisper.
“Yes?”
“Here’s one thing we won’t fight about.”
“What’s that?”
I sweep my arm out to the side. “These are definitely chalets, not cabins.”
A smile tips his lips. “You’re right, Fable. They are.”
32
A HOMEMADE THANK YOU
Wilder
Here’s another reason we could never work out—Fable is an inveterate bed hog. She’s a dragon hoarding her gold, amassing pillows and sheets and mattress square-footage. She’s cocooned in the blankets, lying on her stomach in the middle of the king-size bed, leaving me with a sliver of space.
It’s four-thirty in the morning and I’m trying to get a corner of the covers back so I can try and return to sleep. I tug on the red-and-white-checked duvet that she’s gripping, vise-like.
Carefully, I pull on the end of the material, freeing a section of it from her greedy hands. But my lovely dragon just yanks it right into her arms again. She’s stolen all the pillows too. Thrown a leg around one. Stuffed two under her head.
I try one more time, jerking the cover harder to freeit…when I jerk her right into my arms. She blinks and opens her eyes.
“Are the pirates here for the cans of soup? I don’t want any hemp. Close the curtains. I can’t take any more flowers after midnight.”
I stifle a laugh. Correction: I stifle a laugh badly. Her eyes widen more, and she blinks off the sleep. Confusion crosses her features even in the darkness, then awareness dawns. “Oh. Sorry. I was having a weird dream.”
“Were you hogging all the covers in it?”
She glances down, then up at me, inching back a little. “Oops. Guess I was.”
“You’re the worst bed hog I’ve ever seen,” I tell her but I’m smiling because finally, fucking finally, I have the cure to my Fable addiction once and for all—she’s a bed thief, ergo we could never work. I like my bed the way I like it—neat, organized, with just enough blanket for me. This is great. Hallelujah and joy to the world!
“I guess I am,” she says, then winces. “I’ll go sleep on the couch.”
Fuck no. She pops up, but I set a hand on her arm, firmly pulling her back down to the mattress.With me. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”
“But you’re not sleeping at all,” she says.
“I’m fine. I only woke up a few minutes ago without any covers. I told you I get hot at night anyway,” I say.
She looks down at the tangle of sheets and duvet then quickly untangles them, spreading them out on top of me, patting them to my chest like she’s tucking me in. “There.”
“You do know this is how we started trying to share this bed? We were both under the covers. Then you, my little dragon, stole them all.”
“Why are you smiling then?”
Because I can get over you at last. But I can’t say that to her. Instead, I say, “Because you’re adorable when you sleep.”
“I’m not. I’m a monster, even alone. I wake every morning twisted up in my sheets. Sometimes my pillows are on the floor. But it’s been a while since I…well, shared a bed with someone.”
That’s surprising, given her romantic situation with fuckface a few weeks ago. “Not with Brady?”