Keeping Christmas

by Rebecca Blevins

  She swallowed and answered. "Hey."

  "Paige!" His voice was filled with relief. "I know Skip said you were fine, but I was worried! What happened? I went back to the kitchen, and you were gone."

  Should she tell him the truth? That Rachel was completely in love with him? Or should he find that out on his own?

  She'd tell him the truth, but not all of it. "I started not feeling well, so I headed home. You were having a good time, and I didn't want to ruin the party."

  "I wish you’d said something. Maybe I could have helped you. Gotten you some ginger ale or tea."

  Did he have to be so sweet? It made what she had to do even harder. "I should have told you. I'm so sorry. I think I'd gotten so worn out that I wasn't acting rational."

  "You shouldn't have been driving either, then.” His tone warmed, teasing. “I'm an expert on these things, since I'm a cop."

  Oh, he made this so difficult. She pictured his face as he joked with her, and she smiled through her sadness. "That's true, you are. I was very careful. My head hurt too much to fall asleep, but I waited until I got home to take any painkillers."

  "That’s awful. Are you any better today? I could bring you some soup . . . after I buy it."

  She laughed. "So you're telling me you'd drive an hour and twenty minutes to bring me soup I could drive down the street to buy?"

  "Sure! Why not? Plus, the soup place down the street wouldn't bring a movie to watch with you."

  Paige wanted to say yes, but she'd better stop right now. She was already in over her head. The thought of him here, in her apartment, spending time together like any couple would—it was too much. And he owed Rachel better than that, as much as it hurt her. "Wes?"

  "Yes, Paige? Please say yes. I can leave now. I have the rest of the day off."

  She bit her lip and blinked hard to stop the emotion from coming out. "You don't know how much I want to say yes."

  "Then do! But if today’s not good, I can visit another time."

  A tear slipped out and ran down her cheek. "No, Wes. I'm sorry. I don't think any time will work."

  He didn't say anything for a few seconds. "What’s going on? Did I do something? I'd hate to shut this down before we really have a chance to get to know each other. Paige, I . . . I think we might have the start of something special."

  The tenderness in his voice, combined with the hint of desperation mirrored in her own heart, was nearly her undoing. "I can't talk about it. I think the same way too, Wes, but the timing’s not right."

  Her voice broke on the end of her sentence, and Wes let out a slightly frustrated sigh. "Please," he said softly, "please tell me why."

  Another tear joined the first one, and then another slid down her other cheek. "I can't tell you why. But Rachel can."

  "Rachel?" He sounded shocked. "What in the world does this have to do with Rachel?"

  "I can't tell you that. But Wes, trust me—if you do nothing else, you need to talk to Rachel. Now I'd better go. But . . ." She searched for the right words. "Thank you. I'll always be glad I got pulled over in your town and sentenced to community service." She gave a small laugh.

  So did he, a strangled one. "When I find out what's going on, you can count on hearing back from me. I'm not stupid enough to let a woman like you leave my life—unless you tell me never to bother you again. Is that what you're saying?"

  What would be the harm in letting him call her? After he talked to Rachel, it would never happen anyway. "No, Wes. Let me put it this way. If you find yourself in the position of wanting to call me again, I promise I’ll answer.

  "You sound like this is a final goodbye. If you don't want it to be, it won't be, because I surely don't."

  She waited a few seconds, struggling to find words. "Okay. We'll talk later. Bye, Wes."

  "Talk to you soon. Bye, Paige."

  She put the phone down and stared out the window. She really hoped he'd call, but he wouldn't. Not once he'd talked to Rachel.

  If only her best friend wasn’t on that cruise. Carina would have known just what to say to help her feel better. Well, Paige wasn't the kind of girl to sit around and moon over some guy she couldn't have. She got her coat, hat, and gloves, and went downstairs for a walk down the street. Nothing like some aimless wandering to put things into perspective.

  The next day passed, and the next. Her mother called on Sunday, and Paige filled her in on how everything had gone at the Snow Ball—the catering aspect, anyway.

  "So, about that Wes guy," her mother said in that I'm-trying-to-be-innocent-but-failing-miserably voice. “You said he'd arranged it and helped. Is he nice?"

  "Yeah, Mamma, he's nice." She didn't want to tell her mother any more than that, or it would encourage her. A woman who wanted more grandchildren was eerily like a shark detecting blood in the water. If an even remotely eligible guy showed up on her horizon? There'd be next to no chance of escape. Unless her mother deemed him unworthy—like Michael had been. She really should have listened about that one.

  Mamma persisted. "As in, just a nice person, or nice-but-I-wouldn't-want-to-meet-him-in-an-alley kind of person? Like, if they might be stalker or rapist material, but you have nothing to go on and you don't want to be rude, so you just say they're nice?"

  Paige rolled her eyes. "Yes, he's nice, and no, not a stalker or a rapist or a murderer or any of those. In fact, it sounds crazy, but I trust him completely. But I'm not seeing him. In fact, I'm concentrating on my plans for my career, and right now, no man is part of that."

  Maybe that was too far. Her mother had gone silent, which was a small miracle in itself. Probably imagining Paige in a back alley dead somewhere because she'd trusted some weirdo. Paige expected a lecture and the usual question about whether she had pepper spray in her purse, but all her mother said was, "That's good, dear. I'm glad he's nice." Then she changed the subject to how many false contractions Sofie had been having and when she might go into labor.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Monday, January 4th

  Monday morning rolled around, and Paige admitted she'd held out a tiny bit of hope that Wes would call. But he hadn't. She guessed that was that and got ready for work.

  Since the holidays were over, the catering world was slowing down to its usual pace. A few lunches were scheduled for the week, alongside their usual contracts with several businesses, but the parties had dwindled to a trickle. There was a birthday party that night for a retired mailman, but Paige didn't have to go in until after lunch. So she put her hair up in a ponytail, threw on some yoga pants, and did her laundry.

  A Friends marathon was on TV, so after her clothes were dry, she sat there folding and watching. Someone knocked at the door.

  She wasn't expecting anyone. Not even a package. She went to the door and peeked through the peephole.

  Wes.

  She nearly fell over. Wes Atwood was at her door. Looking more attractive than ever, from the quick glance she'd taken. Maybe she should double check.

  Paige peeked through the peephole again. Yes, she'd been right. He looked amazing. And here she was, showered—thankfully—but with no makeup, wearing a ratty T-shirt and yoga pants, her hair a mess. There was no law saying she had to answer the door.

  But she couldn’t leave him standing there! Argh. If he'd come in person, it was probably to have a conversation, and she didn't want to feel vulnerable. And being dressed in what practically amounted to pajamas made her feel very vulnerable.

  He knocked again.

  She opened the door slightly, the chain still latched. "Hi!"

  Wes seemed relieved and happy to see her. "Hi! I'm sorry to surprise you like this, but may I come in?"

  "How did you find out where I live?" Maybe she should be worried he was a stalker.

  "I hate to admit I did this, but I didn't want to have this conversation on the phone, and I was worried that if I called you, I would blurt out everything. So I kind of broke a rule.”

  She smiled. "You broke a rule? Th
at’s very uncharacteristic of you."

  He leaned against the doorframe. "Well, it wasn't breaking a rule too badly. After all, I was only reviewing files."

  "Files that contained a copy of my driver's license?"

  "You could say so. Off the record. But we had a big old stack of paperwork from last week that really needed to be filed, so I was actually doing my job." He grinned and winked, and her cheeks grew warm. So not only had he found out where she lived, he also knew her birthday, how tall she was, and oh, no—how much she weighed. She tried not to think about that.

  "Well, we're even now. Both criminals." She realized the ridiculousness of standing there, talking through the door. "This is going to sound crazy, but humor me. I'm going to shut the door for no more than five minutes. Then I'll be back to let you in. No questions, no answers. Got it?"

  "Go for it. I'll be waiting."

  Paige shut the door, grabbed some clean jeans and a less-ratty T-shirt, then combed her hair and applied some mascara. She didn't want to look like she'd made a big effort, but those small things made her feel a little more prepared. Thank goodness she'd tidied up the night before.

  She went back to the door and let him in. His height made her apartment feel smaller. Not only his height, but his shoulders. His very strong shoulders. She gulped. She wouldn't think about his shoulders until she knew why he was here.

  "Would it be all right if I sat down?" Wes asked.

  "Of course!" She moved the rest of the folded laundry to the basket. "Would you like something to drink?"

  "Not yet, but thanks." He took off his coat, sat down, and patted the seat next to him.

  Paige sat, though her heart thrummed like a hummingbird trying to escape. He smelled somewhat like the forest they'd been in together, hauling wood—cool and clean, with a hint of green spice. She'd been prepared never to see him again. But now that he was there, she agonized at his presence. A phone call would have been much better.

  "Paige. Look at me.” She raised her gaze to his. He smiled. "You beautiful, wonderful, caring woman. The fact you'd be so concerned about what was right for me makes me that much more crazy about you."

  He was crazy about her? Hadn't he . . . "Have you done what I asked? Did you talk to Rachel?"

  Wes nodded. "Yes. I talked to Rachel that same night. For a long time."

  He took her hands in his. She was confused. "So you talked to Rachel—why are you here?"

  "Oh, Paige. The reason I wanted to talk to you in person was to make sure you know, solidly, that I'm telling the truth. Yes, I do love Rachel."

  Her heart fell to her toes. She stared at her knees.

  He leaned down to catch her gaze, then she sat up and steeled herself. She’d face him, be woman enough to take it. He went on. "But I don’t love her in the way I should in order to be with her. I admit, a while back I thought maybe we'd end up together. But have you ever felt, in here"—he let go of one of her hands and tapped his chest—"that you cared for someone, but you weren't right for each other?"

  Paige nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  "That's me and Rachel. Paige, there is no me and Rachel. She will always be special to me as a dear friend. And yes, she told me how she felt, and I am grateful to you for that, because now she knows that she and I never will happen. She's free to move on."

  Paige hadn't said anything through all this, and now she didn't know what to think. Rachel had told Wes, and he'd rejected her? She must be devastated. "Wes," she began hesitantly, "are you absolutely sure? I saw how you both were together. You seemed to belong."

  "I understand how it could’ve looked that way. But no, we don't. I'd decided that even

  before you and I met, Paige.” His face grew serious. “Though, there is something I need to tell you.”

  “Okay.” She had no idea what to expect, but she would hear him out.

  He sat back and let go of her hands. Uh-oh. That wasn’t a good sign. “Paige, it’s the other reason I wasn’t into the holiday this year, and it’s part of the reason I was a jerk to you about Christmas.”

  She waited, her heart in her throat.

  “I met Katherine when she was visiting her folks over spring break nearly two years ago, and I fell for her immediately. We dated long distance after she went back to MU, then she graduated and got a job at Stephen's during the summer so we could be together while she applied for internships. She got one leaving in January for Cairo, lasting a few months. We planned a wedding for October. It was pretty fast, but we didn't want to wait very long.

  "But in September, she got sick. After a bunch of tests, they discovered she had leukemia. She underwent chemo, and we postponed the wedding. Once she was through the first round of chemo, we decided to get married in a small ceremony at Christmas instead.” He paused and swallowed hard a few times. His voice was a little rougher when he continued. “It feels a little weird talking about this. It’s the first time I’ve told the whole story to anyone.”

  His distress made her heart ache. "Oh, Wes. I'm so sorry." Paige reached for his hand and squeezed. "You don't have to keep telling me. I mean, you can if you want, but I can see it's hard for you."

  He shook his head. “No, you deserve to know what happened.”

  “Then please, tell me.” She let go of his hand and curled her feet up onto the couch, listening.

  “We decided to get married two days before Christmas. Katherine was starting to feel a little better. And then, the night before the wedding, she told me that she’d gotten a new chance at life. She wasn't sure whether she would going to get a clean bill of health or not, but she'd decided that even though she loved me, she wanted her freedom. So we broke up. When she got well enough, she went to Europe with my sister, Janelle. They’d become best friends while planning our wedding."

  Paige hurt for Wes, seeing how much pain Katherine had caused him. She also kind of wanted to throttle the woman. “I’m so sorry. How awful.”

  Wes took her hand again. “It was, but her leaving ended up being the best thing for both of us. I wanted to tell you because while the memories are still kind of painful, I don’t have feelings for her like I did then. She and I were never right for each other, and I wanted you to know that while I haven’t dated anyone since, it’s because I hadn’t met anyone I had a real connection with. Until you, Paige. And what I feel for you is something I’ve never felt for anyone else. Not even Katherine.” He gently rubbed her knuckles with his thumb and gazed into her eyes. A warm tingle spread throughout her body.

  “So,” she said, because she had to know. “You’re sure about Rachel? And that you’re really and truly over Katherine?” Paige knew he’d been through a lot, but his story was a little more than she’d expected.

  “Absolutely,” he replied firmly. “I only told you about Katherine because you were bound to find out if we started seeing each other, and I wanted you to hear it from me first. And yes, Rachel will always be special to me, but as nothing more than a dear friend.”

  Paige searched her heart and decided to trust Wes. What he said about Rachel rang true, and as far as Katherine went, they’d broken up a year ago. Long enough for Paige not to be a rebound, and she couldn’t ignore the feelings she had for this man any longer. “Thank you for telling me. And I have to admit that I’m really glad you’re not with Rachel right now.” She smiled at him, a little shy.

  “Well, now that we have things figured out . . .” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles one by one. A pleasant tingle ran down her arm and flooded her with warmth. He slid closer and let go of her hand, then reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, exactly as he had in the snow over a week ago.

  His eyes deepened with blue fire and intensity, and this time, he didn’t back away. Paige’s breath caught, and her pulse sped up. His fingers lingered on her hair and brushed lightly against her cheek, then his hand slid behind her neck as he leaned in and gently, softly, touched his lips to hers.

  His gentl
e kiss electrified her senses. She could barely breathe. He pulled back slightly and studied her, brows slightly raised in a question. She smiled, then leaned into the warmth of his gaze, summer rain with her face turned up to the sky. He pulled her close and their lips met again, soft, then insistent, then the world fell away and all that existed was Wes and the touch of his lips and his hands in her hair and the pounding of her heart.

  He pulled her closer, tighter, and she reveled in the endless, infinite space where love and light and life melded and blended into beauty and desire and the everythingness that was them. All too soon, they broke apart, breathless.

  Wes spoke. “Paige, if you haven’t already guessed this, I would very, very much like to get to know you. As slowly as you want. I promise I won't get in the way of your dreams. I know how important they are to you."

  A light grew in her heart, so bright she could hardly contain her happiness. "That's the last thing I'm worried about, Wes."

  "Then what's the first thing you're worried about?" He smiled his irresistible smile and trailed his fingers up and down her arm.

  The rightness of him, of them together, settled into her heart and blossomed. She did something she’d wanted to do ever since she’d first seen him—she reached up and ran her hands through his dark brown hair. Soft, just like she’d thought.

  And it did look really good messed up, like she’d pictured it that afternoon in the courthouse when they’d first met.

  Wes sighed with enjoyment as she ran her fingers through his hair again. Then she said, "The first thing I'm worried about is how long it's going to take before you kiss me again." Paige slid her hands from his hair down to his neck, then pulled him toward her as he proved she had nothing to worry about. After a soul-stirring kiss, Wes laughed against her lips.

  Paige pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "Just what do you think is so funny? Are you laughing at my kissing technique?"