by Joanne Rock
He cleared his throat. “I’m going to leave the two of you to talk.” Jager grabbed his long wool coat from a chair by the door. His face was freshly shaven, but there were shadows under his eyes, making her wonder how late he’d stayed up with his brother the night before. “I told Damon I’d meet with him today about the sale of his company. Bring him up to speed.”
She nodded, too dazed by her father’s presence to think beyond that. When the door closed behind Jager, she moved toward her father, arching up on her toes to kiss his weathered cheek in a rare display of affection between them. But if he left his boat to fly halfway around the world to see her, she thought the moment warranted it.
To her surprise, he wrapped her in a hug with his good arm. She laid her head against his chest, noticing his clean new sweater and the heavy sigh he heaved.
She levered away to look up at him. “I can’t believe you’re here. Is everything all right back home?”
“Things are good. Better than good, actually.” He pointed to the couch. “Let’s sit.”
“I didn’t know you were coming.” She dropped onto the cushion beside him, facing the Christmas tree that cast a warm golden glow on both of them.
Outside, the snowfall made the day feel cozy, the lack of sunlight making the tree lights more prominent in the room.
“I spoke to Jager last week.” He picked up his eggnog and had another sip. Beside his glass there was a plate of sugar cookies shaped like snowmen that must have been delivered by room service. “He came back to town to ask if I would visit you here for Christmas.”
“Jager.” Of course that accounted for her father being here. He could have never afforded the plane ticket otherwise. “Why? I mean, I’m glad to see you. I’m just surprised he didn’t mention it.”
“He said he wanted it to be a surprise.” Her dad’s face had aged in the last few years—more than she’d noticed when they visited to announce her pregnancy. The weathered lines from his years in the sun were deeper, his pallor grayer. “I know I was surprised myself when he showed up. He apologized for being abrupt in the other visit when you both came to see me that day. Asked how he could help out. He said he wanted to provide for you and—for me too.”
“That was thoughtful of him,” she said carefully, not sure how her proud parent would view that kind of offer.
“It was a damn sight more than thoughtful,” he grumbled, swiping a snowman cookie and crunching into it. After a contemplative moment, he said, “He offered to have my boat fixed and my roof patched. And made a deal with me and a few of my friends to provide the seafood for the Birdsong Hotel.”
Gabe’s resort property.
“He did?” She knew what that meant. Her father could take it easy. There would be no more stress about selling what he caught. Thinking about Jager doing those things for her father—for her—made her eyes sting with sharp gratitude. He’d never even mentioned it to her.
“I told him no—about the boat and roof, not about the seafood deal because I’m still a businessman and I’ve got bills too, bills I can now afford to pay.” He pointed at her with the cookie, the half-eaten snowman taking some of the fire out of his emphatic words.
“But he insisted on the rest too, didn’t he?” She already knew the answer. Two years of working for Jager McNeill had shown her that he drove a hard bargain. Weeks of being his lover, even when she’d been ducking his texts and afraid to face him, had shown her he was persistent and caring where she was concerned.
She was so touched. She couldn’t stop loving him if she tried.
“Wouldn’t take no for an answer. What’s more, he gave me this passbook for a bank account with both our names on it—yours and mine.” He dug in the pocket of his jacket he’d draped over the couch arm and then slapped a bankbook down on the coffee table. “It’s got a balance in it already. Enough to pay the Rickard property taxes for years to come, so we don’t have to worry each year about how we’ll hang onto the land.”
He sounded indignant. But also...amazed.
Her father, the stoic fisherman, had been bowled over by Jager’s kindness. She was too. Yet she wasn’t at all surprised.
“He’s a good man.” Her eyes stung more, as she wished there was a way for her to reach Jager’s heart.
And wondered now if it was too late.
Had she been foolish to reject him when he had so much to offer beyond the words she longed to hear?
“I wasn’t convinced.” Her father passed her the tray of cookies. “Have you eaten? These are good.”
She took one even though she craved the rest of this story more than the sweet. “What do you mean you weren’t convinced?”
“I told him my daughter couldn’t be bought.” He set the tray down awkwardly, with cookies sliding every which way but somehow managing to stay on the plate. “You know what he said? He said you’d earned far more than what the land was worth doing a CEO’s job over at that mansion of his. Any truth to that?”
A flutter of pride swelled her chest to hear Jager’s praise. To know that he’d shared it with her father. “I’m not sure, Daddy. But I did run the property for almost a year while he was away.”
No doubt about it, she still craved her father’s approval.
“Sounds like a CEO to me.” There was an assessing light in his eyes. “I told him my daughter and I are cut from the same hardworking cloth. You’re like me in that we don’t need a lot of recognition or praise. We just quietly get our jobs done.”
Is that what he thought? That she didn’t need to be told how important she was? Or special? New understanding slid into place.
“I think everyone likes to be recognized sometimes.” She set her cookie aside, unable to eat until she told her father how she felt. If she could blurt out her feelings to a total stranger like Malcolm McNeill, surely she could tell her dad. “When I was growing up, I wondered some days if you even noticed what I did to help around the house or prepare the boat for your trips.”
“Ah, kiddo,” he said brusquely, shaking his head. “I bragged to everyone in town that I had the hardest working daughter for miles.” He stared down for a minute and she didn’t say anything.
Waiting.
Needing more from him.
“Delia, I know I wasn’t the best father. I was already so damn old when you came along, and I missed your mother so much. Still do. It sounds crazy when I only knew her for a few years before you were born. I’ve been without her so much longer than I was with her. But I loved her so hard she left a hole.”
The anguish in his eyes was the deepest, truest emotion he’d ever let her witness. And while she was grateful for the insight into her father’s heart after a lifetime of wishing for his love, a flash of deep self-realization hit her.
She also understood in that moment why she couldn’t walk away from Jager.
What if something happened to him and she was the one left with a hole in her heart? How much would she regret the time she wasted that she could have been loving him?
For that matter, maybe instead of worrying about how her father felt about her, she could simply share how she felt for him. She covered his hand with hers and squeezed.
“Thank you for sharing that. I love you, Daddy,” she told him. “I’m going to be so proud to introduce you to your grandchild.”
He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, she saw a new tenderness there. “Love you too, missy. And I never did deserve such a good girl, but I sure am proud of you.”
He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. Delia let herself rest in the moment, in the gift of finally having a connection to her dad.
“Can I ask you a question?” She angled back to look at him.
“Sure thing.” His gaze darted around, as if he was embarrassed by the emotion. When his focus landed
on the cookies, he seized another frosted snowman.
“What did Jager say to convince you to come to New York?”
“He said he wanted to give you the best Christmas ever and he thought—for some crazy reason—that meant you might like to see your old man.”
“He was right, you know. This is the best Christmas gift he could have given me.” Well, one of the best. Having Jager’s heart for a lifetime...that was something she couldn’t deny she deeply craved and wasn’t sure he could give.
But for the first time, she knew she had to risk it.
Her father shook his head. “I know I behaved badly when you told me about the baby, Delia. But you did shock the stuffing out of me when you showed up with that news.”
She remembered the way he’d paled at her announcement, no doubt remembering his beloved wife who’d died in childbirth. “I was still reeling myself or I wouldn’t have sprung it on you that way. I’m so glad you’re here though.”
“I got a new sweater out of the deal too.” He rubbed a gnarled hand over the cream-colored wool. “It’s a fisherman’s sweater, you know. And I’ll be damned but I never had one before.” He flipped his wrist over suddenly to look at his watch. “That reminds me though. I made a deal with Jager to let him know when we finished our talk.”
Straightening from the sofa, he reached for his jacket. So soon? She felt off-kilter from this day and it had only just started. But she’d already gotten two wonderful gifts.
An acceptance from her father she’d craved her whole lifetime. And a new determination to share her heart with Jager, no matter the cost.
“I hope we’ll have more time to visit than that.” She stood too, wondering what kind of arrangement Jager had made with her father. Apparently they’d been conversing often in the last weeks. “You just got here and I’ve been a neglectful daughter these last two years.”
“Nonsense.” He brushed aside her worry with a wave. “You had a plantation house to run, for Pete’s sake. Besides, I’ve got some sightseeing to do today while you...do other things.” He pointed toward the door. “I’ve got a room down the hall, you know. And tomorrow is Christmas.”
She followed him to the door, the red velvet skirt of her long dress swishing pleasantly around her legs. She’d worn the snowflake earrings too because it was Christmas Eve, after all, and the dress called for festive jewelry even if it was only noontime.
“See you soon then?” she asked, fitting in one more hug before he left.
“For sure. We’ll see each other tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Delia.”
She smiled, inside and out, to have a holiday to look forward to with her father. How many other Christmases had he spent at sea while she’d been at home by herself?
Peering down the corridor after him, she watched his slightly bent form and his wide-legged seamen’s walk as he departed. He barely paused his stride to knock twice on a door down the hall. Damon’s room, she guessed, where Jager was visiting with his brother.
Her mind swirling with thoughts, her nerves alight with apprehension, she ducked back into their suite, shutting the door behind her and pressing her spine to it for a moment while she caught her breath. Was Jager on his way back now?
And what should she say about last night and her public refusal to marry him? He’d arranged for her father’s trip and the tree before the blow she’d dealt him in front of his family. Had she damaged beyond repair what little chance they may have had together? She wished she could take those words back.
All she could do now was not waste whatever time they had left. To make his Christmas as special as he’d tried to make hers.
* * *
Jager knocked before he opened the hotel door with his pass card, wanting to warn Delia he was here. Things had ended so awkwardly between them last night, so he wanted to be as considerate as possible.
Bringing Pascal to New York had been a shot in the dark, and he had no idea if the surly fisherman had mended his relationship with his daughter. But after hearing her dad’s quick knock at Damon’s door, Jager knew the time had come for him to face Delia himself. To salvage whatever he could of their relationship.
And while he wanted that to be marriage and forever, he was going to try to be patient. Hear her out. Understand her misgivings before he tackled them, one by one, to show her how good they could be together.
“Delia?” He didn’t see her in the living area by the noble fir he’d ordered before dawn. The hotel staff had been excited to help him decorate while Delia slept.
“Coming,” she called from her bedroom. “I’m just finishing up something.”
“How are you feeling?” He laid his overcoat on a chair, noticing the flurries still swirling outside. It was picture-perfect, snow globe weather.
“Good.” Her response was quick, coming a moment before she breezed into the room, looking so beautiful she took his breath away.
“You look...so very lovely.” He couldn’t imagine not having her in his life—as his wife. Not being there with her to share moments in their child’s life.
“It’s a gorgeous dress.” She swayed slightly, a sweet, feminine movement that sent the skirt swirling around her legs. “I love how it feels.”
“It’s not the dress.” He wanted to reach out to her. To hold her. “It’s all you.”
Her hazel eyes tracked his, as if she was trying to gauge his mood. He remembered what Damon said about how he was hard to read—like his half brother Quinn. So, digging deeper, he stepped closer. Picked up her hand.
She held a paper, still warm from the in-room printer. She set it hastily aside, making him curious, but mostly grateful that she let him touch her this way. He bent to kiss the back of her fingers.
“I’m so sorry for the fiasco at my grandfather’s last night.”
“I’m not.” She bit her lip. “That is, I’m sorry that I got upset and blurted out words I didn’t mean in front of your family. But I’m not at all sorry I moved past that and got to talk with them and get to know them. I actually think Malcolm is kind of great.”
Jager hung on to the first part of what she said—about being sorry for blurting words she didn’t mean—so he almost missed the rest. Did she regret her announcement that they wouldn’t marry? Or something else?
He backed up a step so they could sit near the tree, bringing her with him and drawing her down to the couch.
“You don’t mind that Malcolm rudely called out your pregnancy in front of a room full of strangers?” He started there, dealing with the less thorny question first.
The one less inclined to shred him.
“They weren’t strangers though. But yes, I did mind. That’s why I gave such a knee-jerk response, and I’m sorry for that. Very sorry.” She squeezed his hand in both of hers. “Whatever happens with our relationship, I do think it’s between us and none of their business, no matter how many wills and contracts he draws up to try to maneuver his grandsons.”
“Whatever happens,” he repeated carefully, sounding out the words like a kid reading his first book. Damn, but he was far gone for this woman. “Meaning, you haven’t closed the door on a marriage down the road.”
“No,” she said breathlessly, before looking down for a moment, and when she met his gaze again, her hazel eyes were a brighter green, lit with some new emotion behind them. “All this time, I’ve been so determined to avoid a loveless marriage. But what I realized today, while I was talking to my father, is that a union between us could never be a loveless marriage. Not even close. Because I love you, Jager.”
His chest swelled with love for her, even as he regretted he hadn’t been the one to say those words first when he knew how much they meant to her.
Her declaration leveled every plan he’d made to win her back. Detonated the elaborate presents and gestures he’d orchestrated for the b
est Christmas. Because she’d just given him the most perfect gift of all.
“Delia. My love.” He shook his head, scrambling to get this right without all the plans. To go off script for the most important moment of his life. “I have been planning for days to prove my love to you. To show you how I feel so that you would believe it, deep in your heart.” Damn, but she humbled him. “Yet in a single moment, you showed me how powerful those three simple words are all on their own.”
Her smile was happy. Secure. Certain.
“I was almost afraid to hope when I saw the tree. And my father.” She bit her lip, but it wasn’t nervousness. It was like she was trying to hold back her excitement before it burst right out of her. “Your gifts inspired me to take a risk on that hope and to give you something too.”
She started to reach for the paper she’d set aside and he stayed her hand.
“Wait. It’s my turn to give you something first.” He withdrew the ring he’d had made for her. “Delia. Love of my life. I would be more honored than I can say if you would be my wife.”
Eyes wide, she gasped when she saw the ring. “It’s a heart.”
“You’ve had mine in the palm of your hand ever since the day you nearly mowed me down on a Jet Ski.” He held the ring over her left hand, waiting for her permission to slide it in place. “It’s only fitting you wear it here, where you can see it every single day, and remember how much I love you.”
“Yes.” She nodded, and then kissed his left cheek and stroked his right with tender fingers. “Yes, I will marry you, Jager, and be your wife.”
As he slid the ring home, he realized he’d been holding his breath. She did that to him.
“I’m going to remember, every day, how powerful those words are,” he vowed, so grateful to have her in his life and in his heart.
Forever.
“Do you want to see my present?” she asked, curling into him, her silken hair clinging to his cheek.
“You’ve already given me more than any man deserves. But I’d be glad for any gift from you.”
She reached for the paper that she’d been printing when he walked into their suite. In the warm glow of the Christmas tree lights, he could see that she’d printed the application for a marriage license.