by Nola Cross
“I’m glad I caught you. Will you guys be gone long?”
Her cheeks had a fresh glow, her gold eyes sparkled. His breath caught in his throat. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to fix Christmas breakfast.”
“We’re having Cheerios,” Spencer volunteered from the back seat.
She leaned in. “Cheerios? That’s no kind of special Christmas breakfast. I’m making Eggs Benedict.” Her voice dropped a few notes. “And mimosas for Sunny and Daddy.”
“Mimosas?” His brain reeled.
“Of course. It’s Christmas.” She leaned in again and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “So when will you guys be back? I can have everything ready for when you get home.”
He turned the key in the ignition, stilling the engine. “I was coming to see you, Sunny.”
“You were?” Her smile broadened. “Why?”
“To tell you that you can’t go back to Charles. You deserve better, and so does Jasmine.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “I’m not taking Charles back. Where did you get that idea?” Then she pulled his door open. “Come on. Let’s go in the house. It’s cold out here.”
In a daze, Ben unbuckled Spencer while Sunny returned to her car for Jasmine and a big brown paper bag of groceries. They walked up the back steps together as the kids ran ahead.
He stood and watched while she began to take groceries out of the bag: English muffins, lemons, eggs, ham. “I can’t believe you would think I’d take Charles back.” She turned to him with a little crease in her forehead.
Her nearness caused his body to react, but he waited, afraid to trust that he just might get what he wanted more than anything. “I wasn’t sure how much Jasmine’s happiness might play into it. She was so glad to see him.”
Sunny’s smile faltered. “It’s true. That’s the hardest part.” She was quiet for a moment as she removed the lid from a jug of orange juice. “She was pretty upset last night when I made him leave, but when I told her we were coming here this morning she forgot all about it.”
“Really?” He opened the bottle of champagne she handed him, the cork bouncing off one of the cabinets and into the sink.
“Uh-huh. Where are your champagne flutes?”
He opened a high cupboard and took down two narrow, stemmed glasses. She mixed the champagne and juice like an expert and handed one to him. Then she sidled up close and clinked the edge of her glass against his.
“Are you going to kiss me, Ben? I’ve been waiting for my Christmas kiss.”
Suddenly it all sunk in. She was really there. He hadn’t lost her. A burst of joy exploded in his chest. He snaked his free arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. He used his lips and tongue to make promises to her, promises of soft dark nights to come in each other’s arms.
When they drew apart he rested his forehead against hers, his heart thudding in his chest. He could hardly wait to take her to bed again. “I love you, Sunny.”
“I love you too, Ben.” They kissed again, and then she looked down at her wrist where the charm bracelet he’d given her twinkled. She shook her wrist and the charms made a soft jingling sound. “See all that empty space after the candle charm?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I can’t wait to see what goes there.”
“Me neither,” he said. “I bet it will be wonderful.”
About Nola Cross
I’ve always, always wanted to be a writer. It’s funny—and kind of sad—to look back and see how “real life” has gotten in the way of those dreams. Despite being a Golden Heart finalist twice in past years, it’s only recently that I’ve consistently carved out the time and energy to get any serious writing done.
For the past three years I’ve been penning erotic fiction under a pseudonym. I have to admit it was fun to explore my “darker side”. But now I am hearing the call of my heart: to write bigger stories that focus on emotion, loss, spirit, and true love; stories I hope my readers will relate to and want to read more than once. Small town America is my favorite fictional setting.
I live in a funky, comfortable fixer-upper on three wooded acres in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains in southwest Washington state. My husband and I run a family business together in a small town nearby, a town very similar to the ones I write about. Our younger son works with us too. At home, three fine cats and a collie dog act as my muses. And last year we welcomed our first grandchild, darling Ona Mae. It’s a truly wonderful life.
I love nothing better than to connect with readers and other authors. Please feel free to email me or friend me on Facebook.
Nola’s Website:
www.nolacross.com
Reader eMail:
[email protected]