“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.” He grinned. “You don’t want to miss Kaden’s cooking. The guy is a genius in the kitchen. I’m salivating thinking about his prime rib.”
“Why aren’t you going to your cousin Cooper’s house for Christmas?”
“Riley has a Monday Night Football game tonight, and they flew to San Diego to watch the game. They won’t be back until the day after Christmas. So, are you going to join us?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Fran had always served prime rib for Christmas dinner. It’d been absolutely to die for. I doubted Kaden would be able to top it, but I was actually looking forward to the meal. Prime rib sounded way better than the ham dinner I’d planned.
“Good.” Easton stared at me intently. His scrutiny made me uncomfortable. I self-consciously wiped at my lips in fear I might have dribbled. His gaze flicked to my lips and back.
“Easton? Is something wrong?”
He almost jumped as if prodded out of his trance. “Sorry. I… You’re so beautiful.”
“Thank you. I don’t feel beautiful.”
“Well, you are.”
I looked away, breaking eye contact because I didn’t have the courage to hold it any longer.
Easton clutched my hand, entwining his fingers with mine, and led me to the brightly lit tree. “I missed the tree lighting.”
“We knocked on your door earlier, but no one answered.” His hand in mine felt so good and so right. I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t have the strength to resist even this simple gesture of…of what? I didn’t know. Holding hands was a gesture of affection in my book, but I didn’t know what was in his playbook anymore. I willed myself to stop my analysis and enjoy the moment, a hard thing for someone like me to do, but I gave it my best shot.
“I was doing some last-minute Christmas shopping.”
“I see. Did you happen to buy mistletoe?” I regretted the words as soon as I’d blurted them, but what the hell, I’d own them.
He reached in the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe. “Never leave home without it.”
“You don’t? Do you wander around kissing random women all day long?”
“No, only this one.” He held the mistletoe over our heads and leaned down for a soft yet toe-curling, body-melting kiss. My heart danced to the tune of the Christmas music playing in the background, as the magic of the holidays filled me with hope and joy. Yeah, I was a regular walking Christmas card. I’d tripped into a scene right out of a Hallmark Christmas movie and had no interest in changing the channel. I’d allow myself the small luxury of enjoying my fantasy a little longer.
He gazed down at me and raised his glass to clink it against mine. I’d forgotten I was holding mine and was amazed I didn’t spill a drop. I sipped from the mug, never taking my eyes from him. Something in the depths of those brown eyes gave me hope, even as I warned myself not to read too much into things. He was here, and so was I.
“I’m glad you told me about the kids,” he said.
“Even if it was seven years too late?”
“It’s never too late. You didn’t know, and as soon as you did, you contacted me. I see that now. I’m sorry for being a dick in the beginning.”
“I understand. I really do. I felt so dirty, and not in a good way, finding out a man other than my husband was the father of my children, and I didn’t even suspect it.”
“Well, you can get dirty with me anytime. I won’t mind.”
There he went again, wanting us to have a sexual relationship when I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to maintain a strictly recreational relationship with him. I stared at the tree in all its sparkling glory as confusion reigned inside me. This man had broken my heart years ago and wrecked me in the process. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to risk he’d do it again.
He set his eggnog and mine on the nearby coffee table. Standing beside me once more, he put his arm around my shoulders. I didn’t pull away though I should’ve. Instead my traitorous body leaned into his warm, solid strength.
“How are the kids doing?”
“They’re struggling without their fa—without Mark.”
“It’s okay. You can call him their father. He’s the only father they’ve known.” I could tell it stung him to say the words, and my ever-present state of guilt reared its ugly head, threatening to ruin the good mood I had going.
“I don’t blame you anymore. We both made mistakes and handled things the best we could considering our age at the time.”
“You don’t?” I glanced up at him. He was smiling down at me.
“I don’t. I have a confession to make, Caro.”
“A confession?” My hear was beating harder than the Little Drummer Boy had on Christmas Eve all those centuries ago.
“I was too young to realize what we had wasn’t easily duplicated with someone else. I thought I’d have it again when I was ready. I had the same college girlfriend for three years, and when we mutually parted ways, I was half as bothered as I was when we broke up. I had several other girlfriends, stayed with them long enough to know they weren’t what I was looking for, and moved on. A couple years ago, I admitted the truth to myself. Not one of them was you, and they could never be you. I didn’t know if my memory was playing tricks on me, and maybe what I recalled wasn’t what was, but I had to find out. I paid for an internet background check and found your address. I drove there and sat outside your home, waiting for you. Pretty soon a guy came out of the house with one of the twins, and you came out with the other.” He paused and waited for me to digest this information.
“You looked for me?”
“I did. This guy had my life, and I had hockey. I thought the tradeoff was fair, but later I wondered.”
“You knew the kids were yours?”
“No, I didn’t make that connection. I assumed you’d have told me if they were.”
“I would’ve if I’d known.” Was I telling the truth? If Mark had still been alive, and we’d done that DNA test, would I have told Easton? I hoped I would’ve.
“No more sorrys. We’re beyond that, Caro. For the next two years, I tried to convince myself hockey was enough, but when I made the Sockeyes, I found myself looking around and asking myself if that was all there was, and then you came back into my life, and I was mad, mad at you for not telling me, mad at myself for cutting ties with you and causing the problem.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
Leave a Reply