Then there was everything else that was so good to eat—deep-orange-colored yams covered in a sticky, sweet syrup made of butter, brown sugar, and cloves, homemade dinner rolls served warm and slathered in melting butter, and wonderfully lumpy mashed potatoes served with the most savory gravy Tierney had ever tasted. It truly, truly was the best meal Tierney had ever eaten, and she knew by the way Alec kept nodding at her that he felt exactly the same way.
After the massive meal, Tierney was surprised when, although Mr. and Mrs. Novak worked together to quickly put the food away and clear and rinse the dishes, everything else was left to sit. Apparently the Novak family preferred to spend the first few hours following their meal just sitting around and visiting. Sometimes Mr. Novak would doze off for a moment or two in his well-worn armchair, sending everyone into amused snickering when he’d begin to snore and then wake up with a, “I’m not sleeping. I’m just resting my eyes,” comment.
Nikki sat in a comfortable slider rocker, smiling and laughing as Celeste and Rome told stories of Thanksgivings gone by—like the time Mr. Novak had purchased a very fresh turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, and after having helped to “pluck and gut” it (as Rome described), neither Rome nor Celeste had any appetite when the turkey was served.
Alec and Tierney even shared tales of some of their Thanksgivings, and Tierney found it to be almost therapeutic in a manner. What she had once looked back on as sad, disappointing, and sometimes nightmarish now seemed humorous. As she sat on the sofa with Rome’s strong arm around her shoulder—as she watched Celeste cuddle up against Alec like a sleepy kitten—the atmosphere in the Novak home allowed her to not only enjoy the moment and appreciate that Thanksgiving she’d just experienced but also let go of the resentment she always felt when she looked back on the O’Briens’ Thanksgivings.
One story in particular seemed so laughable as Alec recounted it. Before it had always been a painful memory for Tierney, but when Alec told it and the Novaks laughed so hard they could hardly contain themselves, Tierney too was able to see the humor in it.
“So there we are,” Alec continued, “sitting at the senator’s Thanksgiving table, right? All the servants milling around and everyone on their best behavior. It was awful, right, Tierney?”
Tierney nodded. “I’d never been so afraid I was going to use the wrong fork in all my life,” she added.
“So there we are, the senator and his wife, all hoity-toity in their fancy clothes. And as everyone is served and ready to take their first bite…Tierney throws up all over herself!”
“Oh no!” Nikki said, frowning with sympathy even as she laughed.
“It was great!” Alec laughed. “Because it started a chain reaction, and the senator’s daughter puked and then his son and then me.”
Everyone was laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. And in that moment, Tierney (who had always thought of the incident as the most horrific and embarrassing of her life, especially since her mother had never let her forget it) saw the humor of it—realized just why her father had always smiled to himself when the incident had been mentioned.
“So what happened?” Edward asked when he finally caught a breath.
Alec wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and sighed, “Oh, well, we left posthaste, of course. Mom was mortified and chewed Tierney up one side and down the other for hours.” He looked to Tierney then, adding, “But remember what Dad said?”
Tierney nodded, residual giggling still tickling her throat. “Yep. He told me it was okay…that a person couldn’t keep from throwing up if their body needed to do it.” She smiled at the memory of her father’s comforting arms around her that night as she cried against his warm shirt. “Then he told me it was one of the greatest amusements of his life—the look on the senator’s and his wife’s faces when I barfed.”
Still laughing, Rome kissed the top of Tierney’s head, pulling her closer to him and tucking her snuggly under his arm. “You’re so funny, Tierney,” he chuckled “I can just see it now—you in your little black velvet dress, lacey socks, patent leather shoes…and blaaahhhh!” He laughed again, adding, “You’re so cute that I almost can’t take it sometimes.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a real cute vision,” Tierney mumbled.
The visiting continued through the afternoon, through the overindulgences of pumpkin and pecan pie, through Edward building a fire in the fireplace, and into the night. Tierney had no desire to leave—ever—and began dreading the end of it all.
And then, early in the evening, Thanksgiving night began to outshine Thanksgiving day, when Nikki pulled a guitar case out from under one of the sofas in the family room and said, “Okay, Rome. Let’s have it.”
Rome exhaled a heavy sigh (of fatigue, not frustration), stood up from the sofa, leaving Tierney feeling cold, and accepted the guitar his mother removed from the case and handed to him. He retrieved an antique kitchen chair from one corner, spun it around, and sat down facing Tierney and the others.
“You play the guitar?” Tierney asked as she stared at Rome in utter astonishment.
Rome smiled and mumbled, “Mm-hmm,” as he tuned the guitar a bit—by ear.
“Mm-hmm?” Celeste exclaimed then. “Rome…you haven’t told Tierney that you play? What you play? How well you play?”
Rome shook his head and shrugged. “It hadn’t come up yet.”
Celeste shook her head and sighed, “Unbelievable.” Then turning to Tierney, she began to explain, “Rome is an incredible flamenco guitarist—I mean really incredible. He performs professionally once in a while, when someone offers him enough money or can talk him into it.”
“Shut up, Celeste,” Rome grumbled, still tuning.
“No,” Celeste argued, however. She continued, “When we were little and studying up on our biological backgrounds and culture, Rome decided he wanted to be in a mariachi band, so Mom and Dad bought him one of those big guitarron guitars for Christmas that year. The next year he’d, like, totally mastered that, so they bought him a flamenco guitar, and he began playing flamenco music. He’s really good too.”
“But when I was sixteen,” Rome interjected, “I decided I wanted to be more like Richie Sambora.”
Edward groaned, rolled his eyes, and exhaled a sigh that let everyone know he and Nikki had endured something over that. “Oh, don’t remind us,” he mumbled.
“Anyway,” Rome continued, smiling with sympathy for his father, “I bought my first steel string guitar and my first electric guitar and went into that for a while.”
“In other words, you’re really a true, like, guitarist,” Tierney noted.
But Rome shook his head. “I guess…maybe.”
“He’s incredible,” Celeste offered once more.
“But today, I’m all about entertaining the family,” Rome chuckled. “So, Mom…what will it be?”
Nikki giggled, rubbing her hands together like an excited child. “Well, warm up with my favorite, of course, honey.” She looked to Tierney and explained, “Malagueña.”
“You’re kidding,” Tierney said. Oh, she was all too familiar with “Malagueña.” The sixth movement in composer Ernesto Lecuona’s Suite Andalucia, “Malagueña” enjoyed fame and familiarity for at least fifty years.
“Not kidding,” Nikki giggled. Then gesturing to Rome, she said, “Okay, go.”
Rome smiled, shook his head with amusement, and then began to play.
Tierney’s mouth dropped open in stunned awe as she watched Rome play—as she listened to the obvious expertise he owned for not only the instrument but also flamenco guitar. She almost couldn’t believe it—couldn’t believe she was sitting in the Novaks’ family room, watching Rome play the way he was. Celeste was right; Rome’s playing was incredible!
No one made a sound or moved as Rome rather humbly executed his mastery of the song—picking, strumming, drumming on the guitar’s face. “Malagueña,” really? Tierney thought. She thought of the way Rome had looked dressed in the tuxedo he’d been wearing the
first time she’d ever seen him—though of how fantastically ideal he’d appeared. Now, as she watched him play, she wondered just how delicious he would look dressed in mariachi costume—and the thought made her mouth water for some reason.
When the song was over, Nikki burst into applause, and everyone joined in. Tierney was amused by the way Rome seemed to blush, even as he thanked his small audience for their accolades.
“Now what?” he asked his mother.
“Hmmm,” Nikki mumbled as she appeared to think. “Let’s have a sing-along. Do ‘Chestnuts Roasting,’ okay?
“You bet,” Rome said, winking at Tierney as he immediately dropped into a prelude of the familiar Mel Tormé favorite.
Leaning over closer to Tierney, Alec whispered, “Oh, and he sings well too. So try to keep from panting over him, okay?” He chuckled, and Tierney blushed. Was her astonishment and admiration as obvious to everyone as it had been to Alec?
Nikki, Edward, Alec, and Celeste joined Rome as he began singing “The Christmas Song,” and in a moment more, Tierney managed to settle down enough to join in.
Oh, he had her now! Rome winked at Tierney as she continued to stare at him, her beautiful eyes fairly glistening with admiration. Had he known Tierney would be so impressed by his stupid guitar skills, he would’ve broken out one of his instruments a long time ago. Rome thought then that he was pretty stupid not to have figured it out before. After all, the girl did have a thing for Latin lovers. All of a sudden, Rome found himself being more grateful than ever for his biological background.
As his mother requested Christmas song after Christmas song, Rome continued to study Tierney’s reaction to his playing—to him. Her eyes were so bright with approval and adoration that he just wanted to stop playing, take her in his arms, and kiss her all over! Still, he knew that the Thanksgiving night sing-along was one of his mother’s favorite moments of the year, so he didn’t stop. Plus, he figured Tierney might not quite be ready to be ravished in front of his parents.
Finally, after over an hour, Rome’s mother sighed with contentment and asked his father if he’d help her with something in the kitchen. His mom winked at him, and Rome knew she really didn’t need any help with anything. She was just trying to allow Rome some time alone with Tierney.
Celeste asked Alec if he wanted to have some hot chocolate and then go for a walk. Fresh frost was falling, and Celeste loved nothing more than walking through a clear winter’s night when frost was drifting down. Alec and Celeste left the room to enjoy a mug of hot chocolate before venturing out, ensuring that Rome had Tierney all to himself. Rome smiled at Tierney, and she smiled back. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him since he’d begun to play, and he liked the fact.
“Any requests, ma’am?” he asked, quietly.
But Tierney shrugged. “I don’t know. Like what?”
“Anything,” Rome said. “Do you have a favorite Christmas song?”
“ ‘Silent Night,’ ” she answered without pause. “I love it so much. It’s everything Christmas is to me, you know?”
“I do,” Rome affirmed. “You know it was originally written for guitar, right?”
But she didn’t answer him aloud—only nodded.
“ ‘Silent Night’ it is then, my little peanut butter cup,” Rome said. He felt a sudden self-inflicted pressure he’d never felt before, for he wanted to play Tierney’s favorite Christmas song for her like she’d never heard it played before—in a way that did the song justice, which no one ever did, in Rome’s opinion.
Inhaling a deep breath and smiling as Tierney leaned forward on the sofa, closer to him, Rome began to tenderly play “Silent Night”—just for Tierney.
Tierney sat in quiet, marveling awe. In all her life, she’d never heard such a moving rendition of “Silent Night.” Of course, she wondered whether it were simply Rome’s performing it that made it so seem so perfect. Yet never before (not ever) had Tierney heard anyone play the song with such perfectly conveyed emotion.
She closed her eyes, and as she listened, she could almost imagine she was sitting in the St. Nicholas parish church in a little Austrian town in 1818—on the very night the young priest Josef Mohr’s lyrics were performed with Franz Gruber’s divinely inspired melody for the very first time.
Tierney’s eyes burned with emotive tears, and she opened them in an attempt to regain her composure. Yet as she gazed at Rome sitting on a simple chair before the fire, playing “Silent Night” on his guitar, her tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She brushed at them as unnoticeably as possible.
Tierney thought there was no more perfect atmosphere of reflection on the reason for the very existence of Christmas than sitting there in that moment, listening to such a profound performance of the most beautiful carol ever written—the perfect remembrance of Christ’s birth. She stared at Rome, savoring every note of the simple, elegant, deeply moving song, as the fire burned warm in the hearth—the soft crackle of wood lending a sense of comfort and relaxation. The fresh scent of the pine boughs Nikki had placed on the mantel mingled with the faint fragrance of vanilla emitted by the candles nestled among them. It was a rare and flawless moment—a moment Tierney knew would never be recaptured. And though she thought it impossible, Tierney felt herself falling even more deeply in love with Rome Novak.
Suddenly, she was overwhelmed—so full of joy and love and appreciation for Rome’s talent that she could hardly contain herself. In fact, she couldn’t! And as Rome finished the song and set his guitar on the floor next to his chair, Tierney reacted.
Fairly lunging from her place on the sofa, she reached out, gathering the front of Rome’s shirt tightly in her fists, leaning forward and kissing him with such a pent-up passion that she felt she might detonate somehow as it began to surrender through her kiss. Over and over again she kissed him, until she could hardly draw a breath—until he could hardly draw a breath. She loved him! Oh, she loved him so thoroughly! And finally—finally Tierney ignored her fears, her self-doubt, and everything else that had been keeping her from effusively trying to capture Rome’s heart for her own.
Still, Tierney knew if she didn’t draw a full breath, she’d faint and not be able to kiss Rome at all. Therefore, she broke the seal of their lips, pulling away from him ever so slightly but still clutching his shirt. Rome’s beautiful, smoldering eyes held hers in an impassioned gaze that sent goose bumps racing over Tierney’s body.
She gasped then as she felt Rome’s hands at the back of her knees—as he pulled them, inducing them to buckle and moving them to either side of his chair, thus causing her to sit down promptly on his lap.
Taking her face between his strong hands, he breathed, “If I’d known I was gonna get this reaction, I would’ve played for you a long time ago.”
Rome’s mouth captured Tierney’s in a fierce, demanding kiss that provoked an uncontrollable trembling in her as her mouth met and melded with his.
Tierney’s heart leapt in her chest; over and over and over it leapt with joy, unbridled love, and admiration for Rome. She felt unfamiliarly free—as if some invisible wall had been broken down, allowing her to wholly give her heart to the man she was so desperately in love with.
Tierney frowned a moment as Rome broke the seal of their lips, placing his hands firmly under her arms. Lifting her from his lap, he stood with her, drawing her body against his as they then lingered in the Novaks’ family room, embroiled in delicious kissing.
Tierney was ravenous for Rome’s affections! Her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands lost in his the smooth, soft hair at the back of his head. She was oblivious to anything but him. She didn’t care what the future held in those moments; she only cared that for that very instant in time, she was in his arms where she wanted to be.
“Sheesh! Get a room,” she heard Alec chuckle.
The sound of her brother’s voice and the sudden realization that Alec was witnessing the passionate exchange was enough to reel Tierney out of the euphoric daze in which she’d been
swimming and back to reality.
“Don’t tempt me, man,” Rome said, still gazing down at Tierney with a fire of desire in his eyes that took her breath away.
“No. I’m serious, dude,” Alec added then. “Your parents could walk in here any minute and…”
“You’re right,” Rome said. And before Tierney could begin to imagine what Rome meant to do, he took hold of her arm and began rather marching out of the family room and toward the door that Tierney knew led to the garage.
“Where are we going?” she managed to ask as Rome pretty much kicked open the door leading to the garage, grabbed a set of keys off the hook hanging just inside it, and continued to pull her along after him.
“Getting a room,” he mumbled. Rome opened the driver’s side door of an older silver pickup and gestured that Tierney should get in. “Slide in, baby,” he said. “We’re getting out of here.”
The pickup was an old enough model that it didn’t have bucket seats, and Tierney didn’t pause—just quickly slid across the driver’s seat to the passenger’s side of the pickup.
Rome was in the pickup and pressing the button on garage door opener clipped to the sun visor before Tierney had even settled. The garage door opened behind the pickup, and Rome shoved the key into the ignition, revved the engine as it roared to life, and peeled back out of the garage.
He didn’t drive far—only two or three blocks—before pulling the vehicle up next to a curb and popping the gearshift into neutral as he stomped on the emergency brake. Leaving the engine running, he pushed the heat control on the dashboard to high.
“Come here,” he mumbled, reaching out and taking hold of Tierney’s arm, pulling her back across the seat. Taking her chin in one hand, Rome’s mouth claimed Tierney’s—somehow literally claimed it, as if he meant to kiss her forever!
He paused for a moment, staring down at her with eyes that conveyed want, desire, and an emotion Tierney hoped she recognized as love.
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