by Anna Robbins
“Abby,” he took her hand, searching her eyes. “I want you to know that these last few days have been amazing. They’ve meant more to me than anything before. I want—” He was cut off from saying anything else as the driver announced that they were at the airport. He cursed softly. “Bad timing I guess.”
She tried to smile, but she could see that something weighed heavily on him. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “Later.”
“All right.” She nodded in agreement, but a notch of worry remained.
They made it on their plane easily, cruising through the sky with no problems. As the time ticked by, Abby wondered what Dylan had wanted to say, but he hadn’t brought it up again.
After unloading her suitcase from his car, Dylan walked her to her apartment. “I had a really great time.”
“Me too.”
They came together like old lovers, confident in their embrace, exerting the right amount of pressure to bring them both pleasure.
“I’ll miss you tonight,” he said, his forehead leaning against her. “I’ve gotten used to having you close by.”
“You’ll see me tomorrow at the party.” She chuckled. “I think we could both use the rest. And you and I both know we won’t rest if we are together tonight.”
“Damn right,” he said seriously, but grinned. He kissed her once more before leaving.
It wasn’t until he walked into his house, turning on the lights in the darkened building, that he felt the swift loss of her presence. Always at ease before, Dylan couldn’t stand the piercing quiet, the stillness that encased the house. And that was what it was. A house.
Not a home.
But he wanted one. More than he had ever wanted one in his life.
Walking through the empty halls, he wanted to fill them with laughter, with Abby, with their kids.
“Damn it.” He leaned heavily against the wall, scrubbing his face with his hands.
It was too soon, too quick to be even thinking of such a large commitment.
Marriage.
But it didn’t feel too soon. It felt… right. He loved her.
He loved Abby.
The thought and feelings moved through him swiftly. Their time in New York had been magical. With her at his side, he had enjoyed everything so much more, had experienced it all more potently, because she was as well.
And he wanted that. For the rest of his life.
Would she think he was insane? Regardless of the speed in which it had happened, he knew that she felt something for him. Felt something much stronger than what time would have normally allowed.
But was it enough?
He didn’t want to push her. But it would be hard holding himself back from steering her toward what he wanted.
Whenever he had a goal, he worked toward it, pursued it with a single mindedness that left others speechless. But he wouldn’t force her into this.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help her along in her feelings.
“So, who is he, Abby?”
Sitting in the old room in her parents’ house, Abby turned to her mother with a warm smile. “Just a guy.”
“Just a guy?” He mother looked doubtfully as she walked into the room.
“All right. He might be just a bit more than that.” Abby laughed softly. “I’m in love with him.”
“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful.” Her mother sat next to her on the bed, wrapping her soft arms around Abby. It was a feeling she had enjoyed all her life. Her mother’s comfort. Taking in her mother’s scent, apples and vanilla, she marveled that it never changed. “I’m even more excited to meet him tonight. I’m sure your father will be as well.”
“Mom, it isn’t serious yet. I don’t want you to make a big deal out of it. He doesn’t know how I feel.”
“You haven’t told him? Why not?”
“It’s too soon. We’ve only been together a month.”
“Sometimes time doesn’t matter. I know it didn’t with your father and me. Sometimes we just know.” Her mother’s lips quirked, and Abby couldn’t help but notice some of the attributes they shared. Her mother’s blonde hair was a lighter shade, now mixed with gray, but Abby knew it had once been identical to her own. Their noses were the same, along with their cupid bow mouth. But there were plenty of differences as well. And seeing them, she didn’t think she had ever seen anyone more beautiful or content.
“I know. I just don’t want to scare him off.”
“Why do you think you would?”
Abby shrugged, moving to stand in front of her mirror, buying herself time. She had already dressed for the party though it wouldn’t start for another couple hours. The midnight blue fabric was iridescent and would shine like blue fire in the twinkle lights. It was simple, with thick straps at her shoulders, draping the fabric to mid-thigh. The black velvet ribbon under her bust was the only embellishment, drawing the eye to the plunging neckline. She hoped Dylan would like it.
“You look beautiful tonight. That color suits you,” her mother said, drawing Abby’s attention. “Now, why would you think that?”
“He just doesn’t seem like the commitment type. I went into this relationship determined to keep it light, to keep it fun.”
“And commitments aren’t fun?”
“No. Well, yes. But I can imagine they aren’t for everyone.”
“And you don’t think Dylan wants one?”
“He hasn’t said anything about it.” Abby sat next to her mother again, the four poster bed sinking under her weight. “I don’t want to push it.”
“I understand.” She patted Abby’s cheek. “Don’t worry too much about it. Everything will work out in the end.”
She took a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “I hope so.”
“I know so.” Her mother rose, walking to the door before swinging around again. “I almost forgot. I came up here to tell you that a package arrived for you.”
“Who’s it from?”
“I don’t know. There’s no name on the outside.”
“All right. I’ll be right down,” Abby said, giving her mother a reassuring smile before she left.”
Flicking her blond curls back, she found her black strappy heels, sliding them on easily before heading down.
The package was sitting on the entry table. No larger than a shoebox, she puzzled over it before opening the top.
A note was lying on the tissue paper, but as she removed it, the paper parted, revealing a glass bottle.
Reaching inside, her breath caught as her fingers gripped the cool glass. Her heart thundered in her ears.
Could it possibly be the same bottle?
The thought was too far-fetched. But pulling it out, she saw a note rolled carefully inside and knew. It was the note that she had thrown into the ocean at Thanksgiving.
Grasping the card, she ripped the envelope, almost tearing the letter in her haste.
Abby,
I found this letter at Dylan Thane’s home. I thought it only right that you learn that he had found it some time ago. If our roles were reversed, I would want to know that Dylan was playing me, making a fool of me because of this letter. He tracked you down after finding this, hoping to amuse himself at your expense. I hope you don’t let him hurt you any more than he already has. Don’t ever be anyone’s reason for laughing. Merry Christmas.
Your Secret Santa
Her breath stole out of her lungs. The burning feeling in her chest had her gasping in a ragged breath.
Grabbing the box and letter, she raced to her room, only allowing herself to collapse to the floor once the door was closed.
Despair gripped her, wracking through her in waves.
She hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to literally shatter, but she now knew it was. She could feel the pieces break apart, scattering in a way that she would never be able to reassemble.
In grief, she sobbed, her hand racing to her mouth to hold the sound in before another one escaped. Th
en another. There was no holding back the surges of pain as she began to gulp air.
Was it possible? Had Dylan found this letter and then used her for his own entertainment? The thought lanced her aching heart, drawing a fresh slash of pain.
She didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t want to think he was capable of such a thing. But holding the bottle in her hand, her letter wrapped inside, she couldn’t dismiss it completely.
If it were true, if he had found the bottle, why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t he mentioned it any of the times they had been together?
There had to be another explanation. But as she combed her brain for one, she couldn’t come up with an alternative.
He had used her. Had played her cruelly.
She was in love with him. And she meant nothing to him.
Weeping softly, she mourned the loss of the love she had for him, knowing that it would never be the same.
He was running late, but he didn’t think Abby would hold it against him.
As he drove down the road to Abby’s parents’ house, he was surprised to see the crowds of parked cars in the neighborhood. Abby had said the party was huge, but he hadn’t realized that it would be this large.
Confident that the business that had delayed him was taken care of, allowing him to enjoy the rest of the evening, focusing solely on Abby, he made his way to the house.
He couldn’t wait to see her. Couldn’t wait to tell her how much she meant to him.
He had already decided that he would tell her right away. Reserving the rest of their evening to the party and getting to know her family.
Before he could ring the doorbell, a woman opened the door, surprising him with how much she resembled Abby. He could only smile, thinking how Abby would look as the years went by. He knew she would only become more beautiful with each year.
“You must be Dylan.” The woman eyed him before stepping back.
“Yes. And you must be Mrs. Carter. Abby looks a lot like you.”
“Yes she does. And like me, she trusts too easily.”
The frost in her voice had him cocking his head. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“She’s waiting for you upstairs. I suggest you be honest with her.”
“I’ve only ever been such with her.”
She eyed him considering. “You don’t strike me as a fool. And you don’t seem to be a user. But I don’t know you.”
A sudden weight settled in his stomach. “Is there something I should know? Did something happen to Abby?” Thoughts of what could have happened swirled through his mind, but he latched onto her earlier comment that she was upstairs waiting for him.
“I’ll let her explain it to you.” She stepped back. “It’s the first door on the right.”
He didn’t wait a moment longer, moving up the stairs with the single thought of reaching her.
“Abby?” He knocked on the door before opening it. He sighed heavily as she saw her at the window, her back to him. Her hair was pulled over her shoulder, offering him a view of her slim neck, the sweet curve of her shoulders, and he felt an ache in his heart.
He loved her.
“Please close the door.”
His brows lowered in confusion. He had never heard her sound that way. So detached, so numb. “Is everything all right?” he moved forward cautiously, smart enough to know not to touch her.
She turned slowly, her swollen eyes locking onto his.
“My God, what happened?” He moved forward, needing to take her into his arms, needing to offer her comfort. She held up her hand, stopping his progress. “What’s going on, Abby?”
“I’m going to ask you a question. And I expect an honest answer from you.”
“All right.”
She reached for something and then held it in front of her. “Did you find this?”
His gut clenched as he looked from the bottle he had found in the ocean, into her eyes. “It looks like the one I pulled out of the ocean several weeks ago, but I can’t be certain.”
Her gazed raked painfully over him. “How could you do that to me? How could you use me like that? Have you no conscience at all?”
“Abby, listen—”
“No. You found my letter.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway. “You found it, but didn’t tell me. I bet you got a good laugh from it.”
“No. Never.”
“Here’s some desperate girl asking Santa for a boyfriend. Wow, you must think I’m pathetic.”
“Absolutely not.” Her eyes were dead as they looked at him, and he felt a fresh rush of panic. “I never thought you were desperate. I never laughed at you. Your letter intrigued me. At the time I was feeling the same way and I wanted to meet you.”
“The bar? You knew I’d be there?”
“Yes.”
She laughed bitterly. “Well, I guess being a private investigator has its advantages.”
“Abby, after meeting you, I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to be with you. It had nothing to do with the letter after that.”
“Oh, so you’re saying you just forgot about it?”
“Yes.”
She spun away from him. “That isn’t possible!”
“It’s the truth.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what to think, or what to feel.”
He reached forward, gripping her shoulders, willing her to look at him. “Just let me be with you.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
When she looked up, fresh tears in her eyes, he felt as if a sword had sliced him open. “Abby, don’t. Don’t cry. I can’t bear it.” His voice was hoarse as he moved to wipe her tears.
“I love you. But I can’t trust you.”
Her declaration surged through him, lighting fires throughout his body. “You can. I’ve never lied to you.”
“Not telling me was a lie.”
Panic began to choke him. He felt her moving away from him, and he somehow knew that there was no way he could bring her back. “Please, Abby. I need you.”
“I can’t do this. You need to leave.” She backed away from him, her arms wrapped around her waist as if she were trying to hold herself together. “I can’t take this anymore.”
“Let me—”
“Please. Just go.”
The hand he had held out for her dropped. She wanted him gone, out of her life. “Tell me one thing. How did you get that bottle?” The question was out of his mouth, but he already knew. There was only one other person who had had access to it. Charisse. He hadn’t given her enough credit. This one act was enough to destroy him.
“I don’t know. It was anonymous.”
He sighed, his heart aching as they looked at each other, both wondering where this left them. “I’ll leave now because you’ve asked it of me. But know that this isn’t over.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
With a last look, he left, moving numbly as he made his way to the car. The hollowness followed him, mocking him with every step he took.
He loved her. Loved her with all his being. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t let it.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Hadn’t realized how important this would be to her. He wanted to curse himself for not realizing, for not thinking it significant enough to tell her.
He could have prevented this.
But it wasn’t over. She could have tonight. But he would make her forgive him tomorrow.
It had all seemed so easy in his mind, but after three days of not being able to reach her, he knew he was losing her.
The panic that he had felt after she reject his calls the day after, not answering his messages sent him into a frenzy.
The next day, when he had gone her apartment and she wouldn’t speak with him, he felt an icy fear settle over his heart.
He had tried flowers the next day, only to find out that she had rejected them.
He didn’t know what t
o do short of marching back to her apartment, standing outside and yelling to her that he wouldn’t leave until she spoke with him. But he knew that wouldn’t work either.
As the sun set on Christmas Eve, Dylan, looking out the windows from his home, his hair disheveled, his face sporting three days’ growth of a beard, felt the despair, the hollowness of loss.
How had this happened? Why hadn’t she believed him?
But he knew how it had happened. He knew that the spitefulness of one woman had destroyed the most precious thing in his life. And his thoughtlessness had helped.
She had told him that she loved him. The thought still brought an ache when he recalled her words. He had wanted to tell her that he loved her in return. That he always would. But he had known even then that it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t have believed him.
If he had told her about her letter earlier, would this have happened? Or would they have laughed about it, moving forward in their relationship? What-if’s crammed his mind, but they didn’t bring peace. Only torment.
He would never know.
Pounding his fist against the thick glass, he cursed fate.
He had finally found the person he couldn’t live without, the person he would always love. He had finally seen a bright light in his life. And he had yearned for it. Now he was empty, bereft now that he knew what he was missing.
What could he do? If she wouldn’t speak to him, how could he make this right? How could he win her back?
Glancing down at his desk, he picked up the sparkling engagement ring he had purchased the day after they had returned from New York. The single diamond, nestled among smaller stones, fired in the low lights, taunting him with lost dreams.
He knew that he had been hasty purchasing it, but he hadn’t cared. Nothing had ever felt more right than thinking about marrying Abby. And now she was lost.
All because of one bottle, one little letter to Santa, and one jealous ex-girlfriend. Something so small, having such a great impact on his life, seemed ridiculous.
But wasn’t that what Christmas was about? Miracles, small wishes, family and friends. Abby had wished for love, and whether or not she believed it, she had found it.
He loved her with a depth and passion that he had never felt before. Her Christmas wish had been granted.