A Christmas to Remember

8: Em

"Ground rules?" Jack asked, leaning back slightly so that his broad shoulders aligned with the back of the booth. His sharp, chiseled jaw flexed as his amber eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me. “What do you mean by that?”

I straightened, instinctively aligning my own posture as I felt my confidence grow. I realized the importance of setting clear boundaries, just as I had done with Robert in the past. With guidelines in place, I could create a buffer that would protect me from any potential misunderstandings or emotional pitfalls. The last thing I needed was to fall for a man who had made it clear he wasn’t interested in love, only in maintaining appearances.

"Just some rules we both agree on," I clarified, careful to keep my tone light yet firm, "so we can make sure this arrangement doesn’t veer into something unintended." His guarded expression softened into one of appreciation, and I could sense he understood where I was coming from. “Mrs. Smith informed me that you're not looking for a romantic connection,” I said, noticing his brief attempt to interject. I held up a hand to reassure him, "and that’s perfectly fine with me, Jack, no worries."

He relaxed visibly, nodding, and I caught a flicker of relief in his eyes. "It’s not that I don’t think you’re a lovely woman, Em," he said with a level of sincerity I hadn’t expected. "I just need to be upfront about my intentions."

“And I completely respect that," I replied, smiling to reassure him. I reached across the table to give his hand a gentle squeeze, showing I appreciated his honesty. His gaze dropped to where our hands met, and I quickly withdrew, feeling a rush of warmth in my cheeks. "However, I want some ground rules to make sure my hormonal girl-brain doesn’t get the wrong ideas," I added, hoping my lighthearted tone would keep things comfortable.

That made him smile, a soft laugh slipping out. “I suppose that’s only fair.”

“First off, PDA,” I began, mentally sorting through the boundaries that seemed most important. “From what I understand, it’s not really the public that needs convincing—it’s your family, right?”

"That’s correct," he nodded, a bit more solemn now. "My whole family, especially my parents, wants me to settle down. Since I'm not interested in a relationship, it makes it challenging to convince them I’m genuinely fine on my own.”

I nodded in understanding, thinking back to my own experiences with my family’s expectations. My father had never approved of my independence, particularly my choice to go to college and pursue law. In his eyes, my worth was tied to my potential as a wife—a notion he never hesitated to remind me of. Though I once idolized him, his rigid view of my role had left me feeling undervalued. He cared less about my ambitions and more about how I might improve his own reputation through strategic connections. To him, my life was little more than a series of bargaining chips, and that had cut deeper than he would ever know.

“I can definitely relate,” I said, softening my tone to show him that I understood his plight. “With that in mind, the PDA has to look convincing—maybe even more convincing than usual. If your parents are going to believe we’re a couple, we’ll have to maintain that illusion around them. That means holding hands, possibly some light affection, and probably a few kisses. While I'm okay with most of that, I’d prefer we keep it appropriate and avoid going overboard.”

“So, basically, you’re telling me to keep it in my pants?” He smirked, his amber eyes gleaming playfully, and I felt my cheeks warm again under his gaze.

“Essentially, yes,” I replied, feeling a tinge of embarrassment creep in despite my best efforts. “In private, I’d prefer no PDA at all; it should remain strictly public.”

He nodded in agreement. “Fair enough. I have no issue with that.”

“Another rule,” I continued, wrapping my hands around my mug for support, “is complete honesty. As I mentioned before, my loyalty is with you for the next twelve months, and I won’t be looking for…” I trailed off, the words catching in my throat as I struggled to voice them. It felt strangely vulnerable to lay out such personal boundaries with Jack, yet I knew it was necessary. “...sexual satisfaction elsewhere,” I finished, trying to keep my tone steady.

At that, Jack choked slightly on his hot chocolate, setting his mug down as he cleared his throat, the sudden reaction almost comical. I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face, the sight of him so caught off guard momentarily lightening the atmosphere.

"Are you okay?" I asked, stifling a laugh and feigning concern.

"I’m fine," he said, his voice higher than usual, before he cleared his throat again and steadied himself. A faint blush appeared on his cheeks as he looked at me. "So, you're saying..."

“I’m saying that even though we’re not… together in that way, I won’t be with anyone else either,” I clarified, my tone sincere. “It would be too risky for your image if rumors surfaced, so it’s simpler this way.”

“So, you’re not planning to have s*x for an entire year?” he asked in a half-whisper, as though the concept itself shocked him.

“I’m not,” I confirmed, unfazed by the idea. It wasn’t a major sacrifice for me; in past relationships, physical intimacy had never been particularly satisfying. In truth, I found more comfort in a good book and my vibrator than I ever had in the arms of a man. It was a notion I’d come to terms with, and my independence had only grown stronger as a result. “That doesn’t mean you’re required to follow the same rule, but if you do, I only ask that you keep me informed. I don’t want to be blindsided by anyone, whether it’s the press or your family.”

Jack cleared his throat again, clearly absorbing my words as he processed the implications. I didn’t doubt he’d make a capable lover, but I couldn’t afford to develop emotional attachments. If I allowed myself to become involved with him, even just physically, I knew I’d struggle to let go when the time came. I wanted to spare myself that pain, and I hoped he’d understand.

“You’re going celibate for twelve months,” Jack echoed, rubbing a hand over his face as if the idea was simply too much to handle. “You’re only twenty, Em, and you’re really fine with this?”

I met his gaze with calm assurance. “I am.” I felt no regret or hesitation in my answer. I’d come to know my own boundaries well enough to realize that this approach would save me from unnecessary heartache. I’d never been one to need validation from others, especially when it came to intimacy. My self-sufficiency was something I’d carefully cultivated, and I wasn’t about to abandon it now.

"Alright then," he said, shaking his head in mild disbelief, though a hint of admiration glimmered in his eyes. He raised his mug in a mock toast, his voice carrying a hint of humor. "To going celibate for twelve months."

I stared at him, momentarily stunned. Did he truly mean it? The thought of Jack willingly refraining from intimacy for a year was unexpected, to say the least.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said, a smile creeping onto my face as I shook my head.

“Well, I’m not about to let you go through it alone,” he replied, his tone resolute as he tilted his mug toward me.

A small laugh escaped me, and I lifted my own mug, clinking it against his. “To twelve months,” I teased, reveling in the comfortable connection we’d managed to establish.

“I have a feeling I’ll regret this,” he chuckled before taking a sip.

I savored the warmth of my hot chocolate, feeling its rich velvet texture flow down my throat and settle in my stomach. The subtle sweetness from the whipped cream, tinged with a hint of vanilla, blended perfectly with the cocoa, warming me from within. It was a taste I cherished, especially in the colder months—a small pleasure that added a bit of comfort to winter's chill.

“What’s next on the list?” he asked, glancing at me over the rim of his mug.

“Living arrangements,” I answered, setting my mug down carefully. “I’m open to moving in with you if that’s what you’d prefer, though I’d want my own room and space. But if it’s more convenient, I can stay where I am, and we just meet up when needed.”

He shook his head firmly. “I’d prefer if you stayed where you are. It seems simpler, and we can meet up as necessary.”

“Of course,” I replied, relieved that he’d opted for this arrangement. While living with Robert had been essential for maintaining appearances, Jack’s intentions were clearly different. He had no need for constant companionship, which suited me perfectly. It was just another sign that he valued his independence as much as I valued mine. "Is there anything else you’d like to address?" I asked, eager to ensure that every aspect of our arrangement was mutually agreed upon.

Jack thought it over, his brow furrowing slightly as he seemed to reflect on my question. The deliberation reassured me; it meant he was as invested in setting boundaries as I was. Although he might not think of anything immediately, I had no doubt he would communicate any issues that arose.

"Not at the moment," he answered finally, offering me an almost apologetic smile, as though he wished he could contribute more to the list. “But I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

"That’s more than fair," I replied, smiling to show my understanding. "My rules are set as well. But if you think of anything you’d like to revisit or add, please feel free. There’s no topic too awkward for me."

"Noted." He offered me a half-smile, a hint of mischief lurking in his gaze. "You’re free to do the same, you know."

I returned his smile, feeling a sense of camaraderie settle between us. It was comforting to know that we could approach this arrangement with open communication and mutual respect, each of us committed to maintaining the balance we'd so carefully discussed.

“So,” I said, my voice breaking the peaceful quiet between us as I set my mug down, “I understand we’re celebrating Christmas in Vermont?”