I Married My Fiancé's Uncle novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: Behind the Paper

We built for three days straight.

Tuesday we splinted legs.

Wednesday we cut a new skyline out of roof flashing the carpenters begged off a job site in Pilsen.

The painter redid every eye.

Felix came down every night after his meetings and stayed until we kicked him out.

He fixed the fuse I blew, and he swept.

Once he fell asleep sitting up on the cot with a soldering iron still in his hand.

Bex took it away from him like he was a toddler with scissors.

"He's not bad," she said to me, very quietly, by the paint sink.

"Don't."

"I said not bad. I didn't say good."

At midnight on Wednesday the reindeer went into Window Seven, behind the paper.

I sent the crew home for Thanksgiving.

The apprentice hugged me, and the electrician told me to go to bed.

I didn't go to bed.

At four in the morning I was still inside Window Seven, alone except for Felix.

The window was a lit box twelve feet deep.

Brown paper covered the glass from the inside, so the street saw only a glow.

Inside it was warm from the work lights and smelled of fresh paint.

The eight reindeer flew in a line over the tin skyline, hung on invisible wire.

The last thing left was the star over the Wrigley Building.

I set up the tall ladder.

Felix put down his coffee and came and stood at the bottom of it with both hands on the rails.

"I have a spotter," I said.

"She's at home eating pie."

I went up.

I hung the star and wired it.

I flicked the switch, and it came on, small and bright and gold.

"Okay," I said. "Coming down."

"Slow," he said.

He said it exactly the way he'd said it five years ago.

I came down slow.

On the third rung from the bottom I stopped, because he hadn't moved, and he was right there.

I was a little above him for once.

His face was tipped up to mine.

Behind him, the lead reindeer's watch motor hummed.

Its head turned, slow and smooth, until it was looking at him.

"It likes you," I said.

"It likes whoever's closest."

"I know. I built it."

Neither of us moved.

His hands were still on the rails, on either side of my hips.

He didn't touch me.

He just looked at me, like he'd been looking up at my windows for five years and somebody had finally taken the paper down.

"Felix."

"Tell me to step back," he said, very low, "and I will."

I didn't tell him.

I put my hands on his face.

I kissed him first.

He made a sound in his throat, and then his hands came off the rails and onto me.

One slid up under my flannel shirt and spread flat against my bare back.

The other caught my hip and pulled me off the ladder and down into him.

My boots hit the floor of my own window.

I backed into a reindeer, and it swung on its wire.

He kissed me with fierce hunger. Deep and slow, then not slow at all.

I pulled his sweater up because I wanted his skin.

I got my palms flat on his stomach, and he shuddered under them.

"Odessa."

"Don't stop."

He didn't stop.

He pushed my flannel off my shoulders.

It caught at my elbows and trapped my arms.

He kissed my bare shoulder above my tank top strap while I laughed and swore and tried to get free.

His mouth moved along my collarbone.

His hand slid down to the button of my jeans.

The paper on the glass rattled in the wind.

On the other side of it, a city bus went by, its lights sweeping gold across the brown paper, and I froze.

He felt it and stopped, his hand still on the button.

He was breathing hard against my shoulder.

"Not in my window," I said.

He lifted his head. His dark eyes were almost black.

"Upstairs," I said. "My choice. Not because anyone's watching, and not because of a contract. Because I want you."

He looked at me for one long second.

"Say it again."

"I want you, Felix. Upstairs. Now."

He kissed me once more, hard. Then he picked my flannel up off the reindeer's antler and handed it to me.

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