“You have to talk to me.”
“I don’t have to do anything but stay black and die,” I snapped. When stressed, I admit a bit of Mama comes out in me.
“When people have a difficulty in a relationship, they work it through. That’s what I expect.”
“And I expect not to be lied to. I made that abundantly clear from the get-go.” I sighed. “Take me home. Now is not the time to talk. Things might get said that don’t need saying. You need to leave me alone.”
Nick got out his keys and opened the door. He waited for me to exit, tight-lipped. Christmas was no longer merry, not one little bit.
There was a strange car in front of our house, an older Mercedes.
“Dad’s here?” Nick said.
Loud traditional Christmas music was playing and the kids were yelling and laughing. Nick followed me into the living room. Sure enough, his father was there, next to Mama, both beaming at the kids, who were surrounded by so many presents it looked as if Santa’s workshop had exploded.
We were definitely going to have to ship all this back to California.
“The kids were up at the crack of dawn opening presents,” Mama said.
“Santa was good to us,” my nephew Jeremy crowed.
“It sure looks like it. Where’s Robert and Carole?”
“They went back to bed.”
“Did you eat, Mama?”
“Saul brought us breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Are you going to open your presents?”
“Later, Mama,” I said and escaped to the sanctuary of my bedroom. I carefully locked the door before I threw myself on the bed and let my tears escape.
I emerged from my room an hour later.
“My son says you’re upset with him. He went on home.”
Nick’s dad looked a little pissed off, but it was Mother who verbalized it, as usual. “It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake, chile! Haven’t you ever heard of Christian forgiveness?”
“I need to take a run. I’ll be back in a while.”
“Carole brought a tofu ham for Christmas dinner.” Mama gave me a meaningful look and Saul shuddered.
I laughed. “Yes, Mama, I’ll be back in time to help Carole with dinner.”
I got in my car and drove to Piedmont Park. I ran a couple of miles, wind in my face, sweat in my eyes. Then I got back in my car and drove to Nick’s place.
“Who is it?” Nick asked when I pressed the button on the intercom.
“It’s me.”
He hesitated an instant before he buzzed me in.
When I got off the elevator, he was leaning against his door frame, unshaven with bare feet, ripped jeans and a scruffy T-shirt. He looked sexy.
“You’ve decided you’re ready to talk?” he asked.
“I need a little time and space when my emotions are high, Nick. Believe me, it’s better. Do you have anything to drink?”
I followed him to the kitchen and sat down at the table. He put a bottle of mineral water out for me, took out a Heineken for himself.
“I thought about things,” I said. “I know that if I hadn’t had the experience I did with Patrick, it wouldn’t have been that big a deal to me.”
“I knew it was a big deal to you. I have no excuses. I was a coward. I was afraid to screw up the possible relationship.”
I took a swig of water. “When I was running, I thought about the things that are important to me, the questions that I need answered in an important relationship.”
“Anything,” he said.
“Can I trust you when it matters? Can I trust you not to hurt me? To love me and keep loving me even when it’s hard?”
Nick started to answer, but I held up my hand. “Wait. You can only answer these questions with words. That’s all any man can do. These are questions that I have to answer myself, right here.” I put my hand over my heart.
Nick was silent, staring at the bottle of beer. “Anytime you trust in a relationship with another human being, it’s a leap of faith,” he said.
“That’s right. Love equals having faith. And if you don’t have any, you don’t love. It’s all about taking chances. But I gotta ask you one thing.”
He tipped his bottle, swallowed and nodded.
“Is it true about your brother having four wives? That’s just too freaky.”
The dimple in his cheek creased. “It’s true.”
He reached out and took my hand.
It looked as if we were just sitting there to anybody else. But we were really jumping, almost flying—taking that huge leap of faith together.
Christmas dinner was more modest than Christmas Eve. We had lots of leftovers. I think Mama and Saul were hungover, too; they were much more subdued. They talked in the corner.
The kids were quiet, tired out from excitement, playing hard and too much food.
“We’d better get up and straighten this mess,” Carole said, making a halfhearted effort to struggle off the couch.
“Chill. I pre-booked an after-Christmas housecleaning with Cheerful Cleaners tomorrow.”
Nick listened to his comedy CD through earphones. He laughed at intervals.
I lay on a floor pillow, watching my family, watching him. Nick and I were brand-new and shiny. I didn’t know if we’d work out or not, but so far it felt good. The gambles were that we’d keep being real and keep it right.
I glimpsed this beautiful place in my mind, full of flowers and trees. Birds sang and a waterfall cascaded into an idyllic pond. Nick was at my side. Was it a premonition or a fantasy? I had to take the chance.
Nick was at my side. We were hand in hand, still leaping, flying into that wide-open unknown wilderness of the future. Together.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-1063-3
Copyright © 2007 Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
Faith, Hope and Love
Copyright © 2002 Beverly Beaver
The Christmas Bride
Copyright © 1991 Heather Graham Pozzessere
Christmas Passions
Copyright © 2004 Kathy Garner
A Seasonal Secret
Copyright © 2004 Diana Hamilton
Return of the Light
Copyright © 2004 Margaret Benson
Star Light, Star Bright
Copyright © 2004 Anne Kristine Stuart Ohlrogge
Naughty or Nice?
Copyright © 1998 Stephanie Hauck
Christmas Fantasy
Copyright © 1999 Janelle Denison
A Christmas Marriage Ultimatum
Copyright © 2004 Helen Bianchin
A Prince for Christmas
Copyright © 2004 Rebecca Winters
The Millionaire’s Christmas Wish
Copyright © 2004 Lucy Gordon
Merry Christmas, Baby
Copyright © 2006 Monica Jackson
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, Maggie Shayne, Anne Stuart, Stephanie Bond, Janelle Denison, Helen Bianchin, Rebecca Winters, Lucy Gordon, Monica Jackson, 12 Stocking Stuffers
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