White Hot Christmas | h.s | COMPLETED

Chapter Three

"TELL me again why we're sitting in the conference room, when I could be in my own office?" Avery asked.

Harry spun in one of the plush leather chairs of the main conference room to glance at Avery's shadowy profile. "Well Counselor, if you'd prefer to go sit alone in the dark, by all means." For a second, he thought she was going to take him up on it. That she actually figured sitting in the dark by herself would be preferable to sitting in the dark with him.

Instead she let out a tiny sigh and wheeled her chair nearer the window. "You know how many times I've been in this conference room wishing I had just five seconds to appreciate the view? And the one time I actually have nothing to do but look at the view, I can't see a single thing."

He scooted his own chair closer to hers until they were sitting side by side, looking out at the storm. "Yeah, it's weird that the blizzard storm didn't predict that you'd train too hard and ruin your knee and ignore the email that we were supposed to be out of here by a certain time tonight."

"Hey, you didn't pay attention to the email either!"

"Hence why I'm not whining about it," he said with a shrug. "My own fault, and nothing we can do about it now. Besides, if I had read the email, you'd be all alone, because I'm betting Santa has no idea where to deliver your coal."

She let out a tired sigh, leaning forward so her forehead was against the glass, and he felt a little sting of regret that she seemed so unhappy with the way her evening had turned out. Not that this was exactly how he'd pictured his Christmas Eve either, but he had the strange sense that this was exactly where he was supposed to be. "I've never seen the city so dark," she murmured, looking out at the powerless city. "Guess they weren't kidding about the blizzard."

"Silver lining," he said, watching her profile. "At least you're finally getting your White Christmas."

She sat up straight, turning towards him with a wide smile. "I didn't even think of it that way. You're so right."

"It happens."

"Rarely," she muttered. But she was smiling as she said it.

The softness on her face made his chest tighten. He cleared his throat. "Did you have plans?"

She lifted her shoulders. "I told Shawna and Dane I'd try to stop by their Christmas Eve party, but I was non-committal."

He gave her a knowing look. "Meaning, Shawna was going to let you know whether or not I showed up, so you knew whether or not to stay away?"

She didn't bother to deny it. Shawna and Dane were two of the few mutual friends they'd both stayed in contact with, and they were both well trained in the art of avoiding the other.

"For what it's worth, I wasn't planning to go," he said. She met his eyes.

"No? Other plans?"

He shook his head. "I'm not the Christmas nut, remember."

This time her smile was wistful. "I'm not really one either. Not anymore. Not quite as fun putting the tree up for one. Cooking for one. Stockings for one..."

Like him, Avery didn't have much in the way of family. Was likely too busy with work to maintain any close friendships.

He was in the same boat, but the thought of her being alone made him...sad. Then again, the thought of her celebrating with someone else —a man— that was worse. Much worse. "What about you?" she asked. "Big plans for Christmas?"

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "Does sleeping count? I so wanted to sleep."

Avery burst out laughing. "Exactly what I asked Santa for."

And then suddenly they were trading stories. About friends' birthdays forgotten, and missed calls to the limited family they did have. The days when they didn't have any clean underwear. She told him about the book-club she'd had to drop out of, and he told her about the season tickets he never used. The plans they rarely made, and even more rarely kept.

And, damn but it it felt good to talk to her.

And not because it had been way too long since he'd had good conversation with a woman.

It felt good because it was her.

They'd become better listeners over the years, he noticed. They'd both loved loved to talk, but it had once been a war to see who could be right first, or who could get the last word. There was an easier rhythm now. Which didn't make sense considering that they'd spent the last decade at each other's throat. Harry lost track of how long they sat there talking, but he was pretty sure it had to be some sort of record for the longest time gone without a fight.

Avery's stomach grumbled loud enough to be heard even over the crash of wind and snow against the window pane, reminding both of them that they'd shared a salad that was mostly lettuce. It hadn't even had chunks of chicken. He never understood what it was with women liking little chicken bites in their salad, and he didn't really care. Tonight he wouldn't have minded some protein, because he was starving.

She gave him a sly look. "When you were raiding the fridge, did you happen to notice if that plate of Christmas cookies was still on the counter?"

Harry pushed out of chair. "Say no more."

"And a Diet Coke!" she called after him. He rolled his eyes. Some things never changed. Her love of Diet Coke, apparently, was one of them. Harry grabbed the plate of cookies, two Diet Cokes, and a dry looking sandwich that had someone else's name on it, but he was beyond caring. Armed with their less than nutritious dinner, Harry made his way back into the conference room.

He paused in the doorway as he realized she was talking silently into her cell phone. Harry felt a little pang that she had someone to call. Someone who might care that she wouldn't be coming home tonight. He had...nobody. "Okay," she said softly. "I love you too."

Harry felt the bottom of his stomach fall out at the painful memory. Of the memory of what it had used to feel like when he'd been the one she said that to.