Christmas Ever After

by Sarah Morgan

  “You don’t have to answer it, Sky.”

  “I do.” Flustered, she paused and then put the phone down as if it were a poisonous insect. “You’re right. I don’t. I don’t have to answer it.” She stood with her hands hovering in the air for a moment and then clasped them behind her back as if that was the only way to stop herself from touching it.

  She stared at the phone until the ringing stopped and the call went to voice mail.

  “Right. Well, that wasn’t so hard.” She let out a shaky breath, her tension palpable. “Actually, it was hard. I feel guilty that I was here and I didn’t pick up. How awful is that?”

  What was awful was the fact that her parents tried to control her love life and worse, far worse in his opinion, was the fact that they trampled so roughly over her dreams. A less strong person would have given up and yet here Skylar was working her guts out and earning a living doing something she loved.

  He eased away from the counter, wondering how to make her feel better about something that was manifestly unreasonable. “You can’t always be expected to answer the phone.”

  “But I still have to listen to the message so all I’ve done is remove the confrontation part. On the other hand that does make the whole thing less stressful.” She picked up her phone and listened to the message before he could suggest that she switch the damn thing off until tomorrow.

  He assumed the message would be more of the usual. How selfish she was. How Richard was perfect for her. But then he saw her face pale and knew it was something more.

  “Sky?”

  She deleted the voice mail and stood for a moment, staring into space.

  He felt a flicker of unease. “Sky?”

  “Sorry about that.” Her voice was bright and she reached for her wine.

  He watched as she downed it. “Don’t do that.”

  “What? Drink? Why not?”

  “I wasn’t talking about the drinking, I was talking about the fake voice. Be false with your mother if you like, but not with me. We agreed on honesty. Talk to me.” He wondered why he was so keen for her to talk about her feelings when that was usually something he actively avoided. “What was the message?”

  “You’ve dealt with enough of my crap, Alec.” She picked up the knife and carried on chopping vegetables, each vicious slice cutting deep into the board. Carrot. Leek. Onion. Everything was diced to within an inch of its life.

  He watched, concerned about her fingers, as the blade glinted in the light.

  “Sky, maybe you should—”

  “You eat lentils?”

  “Yes, I eat lentils, but—”

  “Good.” She reached for a potato, dicing it with decisive strokes of the blade. “This is going to be the best thing you’ve ever tasted. It’s a perfect winter comfort soup.” Her voice was scratchy and raw and he sucked in a breath as he saw a gleam of moisture on her eyelashes.

  During all the events of the past couple of weeks, the breakup, the accident, he’d never once seen her shed a tear.

  He’d seen Selina cry a thousand times. He’d been sympathetic, made all the noises and moves that were expected of him, but her tears had never moved him. Toward the end they’d exasperated him. He’d assumed there was something missing inside him.

  But watching Sky fight back that single raindrop of moisture made him feel as if he were being slowly unraveled.

  “Sky—”

  “I need a moment, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

  He reached for her and then withdrew his hand, feeling helpless. His chest felt tight. He tried to see her face, but she kept her head down as she sliced. And sliced.

  Two minutes into her cathartic session of violent chopping, blinded by a veil of misery, she missed the potato and sliced into her finger.

  “Crap. Alec, I—”

  “Yeah, I know.” Cursing himself for not having intervened earlier, he grabbed a towel and clamped it over her finger.

  “The knife slipped.”

  “You couldn’t see what you were cutting. For future reference, don’t use a knife when you’re upset.” But the injury didn’t bother him as much as her tears.

  “You’re right.” Her voice was thickened. “I should have put the knife down and done something else to let off steam. I might go for a walk. Shovel some snow.”

  “There is a blizzard out there. You’re staying right here.” Ignoring the scent of her and the feel of her, he unwrapped her finger and held it under the running water. “It’s not too bad. I can fix that.”

  She sniffed. “You’re always fixing me.”

  He turned off the water and dried her finger. “Press hard and keep the pressure on. I need to find my first-aid box.”

  He delved into a cupboard and found it at the back. It hadn’t been opened in a while. He hoped it still contained what he needed although he was pretty sure there was nothing in there that would deal with Sky’s parental issues.

  She stood, gazing out of the window. “Are you going to say, ‘I told you so’?”

  He opened the first-aid kit and delved through dressings and bandages.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you told me not to answer the phone.”

  “You didn’t answer the phone.” He closed the wound with adhesive strips. “You let it go to voice mail.”

  “And then I immediately listened to it. Do you think I need an intervention?”

  No. He thought she could do with a new set of parents, or at the very least giving the current set a serious shake-up. “They left you a message. Of course you’re going to listen to it. You did what felt right for you.”

  “It feels like crap.” She winced as he pressed on her finger. “I’ve ruined the soup.”

  “No, you haven’t.” He placed a sterile pad over her finger and strapped it into place. “But maybe we’ll skip the potato.”

  She gave a choked laugh. “No matter what trouble I’m in, you always manage to make me laugh.”

  “That’s because you laugh at anything and everything.”

  “It’s either laugh or cry. You’re always so calm. Is there any situation you can’t handle?”

  “Plenty.” He couldn’t handle her crying. He couldn’t handle seeing her upset or injured. “For a start I wouldn’t be able to handle what you’re handling.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You deal with your family better than I would.”

  “I don’t have a choice. If I want to keep them in my life, I have to do what I can to keep the peace. But right now—” She breathed. “My mother thinks I’m idealistic and romantic.”

  Alec decided this was one of those occasions when it was better to listen than comment.

  He secured the dressing and let go of her hand.

  Her head was almost on his shoulder, her hair brushing against his jaw.

  “Do you?” She spoke so softly he could hardly hear her.

  “Do I what?”

  “Think I’m unrealistic. I want this grand passion and my mother thinks that doesn’t exist.”

  Alec stood still, breathing in the scent of her, blinded by how much he wanted her. He didn’t understand how you could want something so badly when it was already yours. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I don’t know if that’s unrealistic.”

  “I don’t expect a life with no ups and downs, but I want to feel something with my whole heart. Not a relationship that looks good on paper, or seems logical. I want an emotional connection. I want someone who wants me. Not a version of me, but the real me. I want to be loved and accepted for who I am. Love with no reservations. Is that wrong?”

  “No.” His voice sounded rough. “It isn’t wrong.”

  “But I’m asking a lot.”

  “I’m not an expert.” All he knew was that he’d never felt any of the things she’d described.

  “I never expected love to just land on my doorstep. That’s why I date and go out and have a good time. You can’t meet someone unless you get
out there.” She leaned her head on his chest and he hesitated, conflicted.

  He’d convinced himself that their relationship didn’t contain an emotional element but she hadn’t stepped into his arms for sex, she’d done it for comfort.

  He probably should have pushed her away, but instead he closed his arms round her, holding her tightly.

  She was probably hoping for words of reassurance but he had none to offer.

  All he knew was that he wanted to make her feel better.

  Lifting his hand, he smoothed her hair. He wanted to slide his fingers through the silky strands and kiss her until she could no longer pronounce Richard’s name. But that was sex, not comfort, so he took that urge and buried it deep.

  He was barely breathing, doing his best to keep their contact low-key and under control, but then she pressed closer to him.

  He breathed in the scent of her, felt softness and curves blend with the hard lines of his own body, and stilled.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to ease away from her but she pressed herself closer.

  “Kiss me.”

  “Sky—”

  Her arms were round his neck. “I want you to kiss me.”

  He should let her go. Nothing, he knew, had the potential to shift the delicate balance of a sexual relationship like strong emotions, but the strong emotions were the reason he couldn’t let her go.

  He slid his hand down her back, drawing her against him, and she rose on tiptoe and kissed him, the way she had that evening in the London Eye.

  Her lips were soft and searching and he opened her mouth with his and heard her purr of pleasure as his tongue slid against hers.

  The intimate contact changed everything. The kiss went from comfort to carnal in a single scorching breath. The blood pumped through his veins until the sheer heat of desire threatened to incinerate them both.

  “Alec—” Her arms tightened round his neck and he nudged her back against the fridge.

  His brain was screaming at him to stop. Sex with emotion wasn’t what either of them had signed up for, but she was urging him on, her fingers in his hair.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” But he couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t stop tasting her. She was soft and sweet and sexy as hell and she pressed closer still, the heat of her driving every thought from his brain.

  “You’re not hurting me. You’re making everything better.” Her hands went to the front of his shirt, her fingers freeing buttons until it fell open and he felt her hands slide over his skin, stroking and exploring with fevered desperation. And then her fingers were on the snap of his jeans and his brain ceased to function.

  He was so hard she struggled to free him and he covered her hand with his and helped her, his mouth greedy on hers as they kissed.

  Her clothes proved easier, or maybe he was more desperate because they fell away under his impatient hands until she was naked from the waist down.

  Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her and sat her on the counter.

  She wound her legs around him, and he felt her fingers dig hard into his shoulders.

  Still kissing her, he shifted position and buried himself deep.

  Warmth closed around him and his mind blanked.

  “Alec—” She breathed his name against his lips and met each driving thrust with subtle movements of her own.

  Behind them the wind lashed at the window, but neither of them noticed and if they’d noticed they wouldn’t have cared.

  There was nothing for either of them but this.

  She matched him kiss for kiss, her body moving with an erotic rhythm, her fingers hard in his shoulders as she urged him on. His thoughts blended together until his mind ceased to function and all his responses became physical.

  He felt the first contractions of her body ripple along his shaft and groaned, trying to hold back, trying to still the writhing of her hips, but she couldn’t keep still and every subtle movement ripped more layers from his self-control until release barreled down on him. They came together in a mind-blurring, dizzying climax that froze time and thought.

  As his brain finally cleared, he realized that her breathing was unsteady and that her nails were digging into his back.

  It bothered him that he’d been so out of control that for a few moments he hadn’t known where he was. He could have been in the middle of Main Street for all the attention he’d paid to his surroundings.

  Shaken by the intensity of it, he eased away from her and she gave a little whimper and clutched at him. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or kiss her again. “Are you seriously thanking me?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice was husky. “I didn’t think anything could make me feel better but you managed it.”

  There was a tightening in his chest.

  Throughout his marriage he’d felt inadequate. He’d failed to meet almost all the demands made of him, fallen short of almost every expectation, until he’d convinced himself that he wasn’t capable of making any woman happy.

  And then Sky had come along, and made him feel as essential as sunlight.

  “Sex has tremendous healing properties.” Because she was still pressed against him intimately he felt the slight ripple of tension, a change in her that he knew he probably didn’t want to question.

  “Yes,” she said. “It does.”

  He held her, breathed in the scent of her, felt the contrasts of soft against hard, revealing nothing of his own thoughts.

  They’d promised honesty, but right at that moment he knew neither of them were being honest. Maybe sex did have healing properties but what they’d just shared, this new dangerous intimacy, felt a long way from “just sex.”

  A COUPLE OF hours later, the soup finally made and eaten, Skylar lay in the dark in Alec’s bedroom, listening to the sound of the wind.

  Snow fell beyond the window and an iridescent winter light sent a silver glow over their naked bodies.

  She felt as if her bones had melted into the bed.

  “Have I told you that you’re good at sex?” It didn’t begin to describe her feelings but it was the only sentiment she felt she could express. She knew he wouldn’t want to hear anything else.

  He stirred and pulled her closer. “So are you.”

  “We’re good together.” She realized how that sounded and felt a flash of panic that her thoughtless words might damage this new intimacy. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “When I picked up that message from my mother I didn’t think it was going to be possible to enjoy my evening, but I did. Lately you seem to always be there at my lowest moments.”

  “Tell me more about the message. I want to know what upset you.”

  She hesitated, but after everything they’d shared, not sharing this felt ridiculous. “She booked the church.” She felt him shift onto his elbow.

  “Who?”

  “My mother. She put a reservation on a venue for a June wedding. Can you believe that? She actually booked somewhere.” Sky still couldn’t believe it herself. The frustration burned inside her, refusing to die.

  “Without asking you?”

  “Without asking or telling. She said that good places are often booked up years in advance and she was afraid by the time I’d made up my mind to do the sensible thing there would be nothing available.” She gave a strangled laugh. “She booked it that first night I met Richard, because we seemed to get along so well. Of course we did, because she engineered it to be like that. Now she’s facing a cancellation charge. According to her that’s my fault, too. So apparently I need to make up my mind whether there will be a reconciliation. Good job she didn’t tell me in person. Look what happened to the potato!”

  He didn’t laugh. Instead he drew her closer still and held her and she stayed there, against his chest, absorbing warmth and strength. It flowed through her, filling all the empty places inside her.

  She wondered how he could possibly think he wasn’t capa
ble of making someone happy.

  She felt his hand stroke her hair, slow and easy, and closed her eyes. “I envy you your family.”

  “They’re far from perfect.”

  “They seem pretty perfect to me.”

  “Mine would be booking my wedding, too, if I let them.”

  If I let them.

  It was like being drenched by a bucket of cold water.

  “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

  “They booked a wedding you didn’t want. How can that be your fault?”

  “I’ve let this happen. I’ve never set boundaries. You adore your family, but you have boundaries and you make them clear. You love them, but you’re the one running your life. I’ve let mine interfere. I’ve let them have influence.” She eased out of his arms and sat upright, forcing herself to take a good, hard look at the truth. And the truth didn’t look good. “Choosing to study art, not law, was my decision and I knew how disappointed they were so I’ve been desperate to try to please them in every other way to make up for it.”

  “Why do you have to make up for a decision that felt right for you?”

  “Because it wasn’t what they wanted for me.” She thought back to her mother’s cold disapproval and her father’s exasperation. That constant feeling that approval was something she had to work hard to earn, like good grades.

  “What about what you wanted for you?”

  “That wasn’t relevant. Despite everything I love them, and I know they love me, but I don’t feel as if they know me. They have this vision of how I should be and I never fit that vision. I really admire you.” She blurted the words out. “You have this wonderful relationship with your family, but when they try to overstep you manage to rein them in. They listen to you and respect you. Mine ignore me.”

  He drew her back down to him. “So maybe you need to find a different way of getting your message across.”

  “How? I don’t want to fall out with them, I really don’t. This is so pathetic.” And she hated feeling this way. “I feel like a teenager, not an adult.”

  “That’s because they’re not letting you be an adult. They’re afraid you’re making a mistake and they’re trying to stop that, instead of accepting that this is your life and your choice, mistakes and all.”