Norah’s across the table from me, but I’m getting nothing from her this morning. I feel like she’s sort of made sure that we talk or make eye contact, but this morning I haven’t caught her eyes once.
Did I just misread everything? Now I’m definitely feeling like I’m back in high school, but not because of how close she is and how far away our lips are—though that’s definitely a consideration. It’s because she’s here, and last night, I felt like we were moving ahead, crossing good lines or however she phrased that, and now? I have no idea.
And this begs the question again—what am I doing here?
“ Collin?” Norah’s voice pulls me out of my daydream.
“Yeah?” Yeah? Yeah? I sound like one of my students. Maybe allowing undergrad’s to rent rooms in my house isn’t the best idea.
“I didn’t get the story as to why you’re here.”
“My parents live on the east coast, and Madeline and I split, so Brady took pity on me.” I shrug, a little surprised that it hasn’t come up before now.
“Well.” She stands. “I’m heading out for a bit. I’ll be back for dinner.”
Wait. What? “Where are you headed off to?” And what about my plan? The one that involved moving this forward toward . . . “it” whatever “it” ends up being?
“I need some photo therapy today.” She stands, and all I see is her thin waist moving past me in layers of green and grey.
I feel both frantic but also helpless as I watch her walk away over my half finished plate of eggs.
“You’re still with me, right?” Brady slaps my back as he sits next to me, plate brimming with food.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m with you.” I don’t even remember what he planned for today, but I know I’m locked into it—especially after his questions about Norah yesterday.
Paintballing. I forgot. It’s been a while since I’ve gone, so I’m expecting to have a few good welts at the end of the day, because Brady lives to paintball. Most of his extreme outdoor sports went by the wayside with the death of his brother.
I follow Brady to his car in my stained jeans and tennis shoes, trying to get ready to paintball when I really want to do whatever Norah’s up to today.
“You really like her,” are the first words out of Brady’s mouth when I get in his car.
“What?” But there’s no way I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Come on.” He puts the car in gear, shifting harder than necessary, and we drive up the snowy street to whatever indoor playground he’s picked for our paintball experience. Seems like an asinine thing to do on Christmas Eve, but apparently it’s tradition between he and his cousins and friends, and Jacob—when he was around.
“She’s cool. Probably everyone likes her.” That’s fairly non-committal. I edge closer to the passenger’s side window as Brady clenches his jaw. I wonder if he’s working himself up, or trying to relax.
“You know what I mean.” Brady doesn’t look at me. Instead he’s concentrating too hard on the road.
“Didn’t we have this conversation?” I ask.
Brady sighs. “Look. It’s just weird, you know? She was going to be my family. My sister-in-law. I know Mom would flip out, and Dad . . . Well, he’s pretty mellow, but can you just hold off or something? I mean, we’re only at the house for another couple of days.”
A perfectly reasonable request, and something I really should have thought about. “Sorry, yeah, of course, I didn’t mean to—”
Brady holds his hand up between us. “No. It’s cool. I mean, you’re right. She’s a great girl, and anyone would like her.”
“Anyone would.” And especially me. And yep, back to the whole high school thought process again.
“I mean, I get it. It’s really weird though, and part of me wishes that you’d just . . .” But he sucks in a breath instead of finishing.
“It would make everyone a lot more comfortable if I just left her alone forever, right?” Already I can’t imagine doing that. Not even trying to get to know her better.
“I mean, we all knew she’d move on. But watching it? Mom’s already suspicious, and it’s shaking her a bit. Last year was their year. I think Mom invited her this year to get some of that back.” Brady’s still looking at the road way more pointedly than he normally would.
“That isn’t really fair to Norah, though. And to put her in his room? Even I knew it couldn’t have been changed. Why would your mom do that to her?” I’m leaning forward in my seat, and my body’s tensing up. Protective.
“Collin, I’m trying to be okay with something I don’t know that I’m okay with, alright? I’m just asking you to lay off for a few days.” Again, he holds his hand out flat between us. In Brady language, this means he’s serious.
And instead of being quiet, like I should, I say, “I haven’t even done anything!”
“And just don’t for a few more days!” Now he looks at me, frustration all over his face.
This is not how to talk to him. I slump in my seat. If I don’t straighten things out now, he’s really going to nail me while paintballing.
I need to tell him how much I like just sitting with her. How my favorite scene in my book, the one most people read over, is the one she loved. I want to tell him about her photographs, and how they each deserve their own story because they touch me that deeply. That after Madeline, I really want to be around someone who gets me.
“We’re here, man. Let’s go.” He turns off the car.
Oh. Perfect. I thought about what to say for a few minutes too long. I’m really going to have to watch myself in there.
I’M STILL SORTING PHOTOS, JEAN TO MY RIGHT. This is what I love doing with her. She has a fabulous artistic eye, and now we’re looking at something that has to do with today. With this year. With right now. Not her son. Not my relationship with her son or anything else. Just me and now. And this is what I came here looking for—to make sure that I could have a relationship with this family outside of Jacob.
“Oh. This one is really nice.” She points.
“The ice sculptures.” I nod. “They were amazing this year, and the sun actually helped. Usually it makes the lighting all wonky.”
She chuckles. “I love your funny words.”
“Wonky? Is that not a word?” I ask.
“I play scrabble, dear. Wonky is not a word.” The small suppressed grin that I haven’t seen from her in a while comes out. This is good.
“Bummer. Well, it should be. If I played scrabble with you, I’d let you use it.”
She chuckles again.
“I have the pizza!” Scott comes through the door. “And Collin’s limping in from his afternoon with those brutes with guns.”
“Brutes with guns?” I ask, my heart starting to pound. I didn’t think to wonder what they were doing today. And limping? Oh. “Paintball? Guess that tradition’s still around.” I force out a chuckle.
And then I have to hold in a laugh while I think about Collin paintballing. Brady and his friends probably had way too much fun with that.
Collin stumbles into the dining room with a swollen face.
“What happened?” I jump to standing.
He waves me down. “I’m fine. Lucky hit.”
Right. I’m not buying that. No way. And now I feel bad for half ignoring him this morning. I just don’t know how to act normal around someone I like more all the time.
“Sorry, man.” Brady slaps him on the back.
Jean jumps up to get ice, and I stand sort of in shock. Brady’s usually more careful—he’s a good shot—way too good of a shot to nail someone like that. Especially someone as tall as Collin.
“Come walk with me,” Brady says, his eyes on mine.
“I’m still in my happy place, Brady.” I point to the computer. Besides, I’d probably confront him about Collin, and something tells me that might not be the best idea.
“Get some good shots today?” he asks.
“I like them.” I grin.
&
nbsp; I glance toward the kitchen, and my eyes catch Collin’s, and this time I hold his for a moment.
“I’m okay. We’ll talk later,” he mouths.
My smile spreads. It just does. He wants to talk to me. Later. It’s like high school—will you sit with me for lunch? Which is followed by a fit of the happy tingles, or girlish giggles or something.
“Pizza!” Jean comes to the table, followed by her husband and their traditional Christmas Eve pizza.
In this house, the dishes involved in Christmas day are enough, so Christmas Eve is pizza and paper plates.
Collin sits with the bag of ice to his face, and I try to catch his eyes again, but it doesn’t happen.
I’m a little . . . disappointed? After the whole—we’ll talk later thing, I expected more. Maybe for him to sit next to me or something. But he doesn’t even do that. Well, not only isn’t he sitting near me, but he’s not even looking at me.
Jean takes a seat next to me again, and we continue sorting through photos. It’s a better distraction than thinking about Collin and what he might or might not be thinking.
Jean and Scott are nested around the fire, and Collin has yet to attempt to talk or look at me. In fact, he hasn’t really spoken with Brady either. Now I’m thinking something’s definitely up with him and Brady. Just a hunch with the whole swollen face and ignoring me thing.
They’re all immersed in some Christmas movie I can’t focus on, so I decide this is the perfect time to be alone.
I slide on my coat, and head into the backyard. The small walkway is only partially shoveled, so I tromp through the knee-deep snow to get to the doublewide swing under their oak tree. A house like theirs has to have a wooden tree swing—it would ruin that Norman Rockwell thing they have going on if they didn’t.
The moment I sit down and push off, I know I came to the perfect place. The night is beautiful, cool and crisp, and I’m feeling like Christmas. Like real, magic, nighttime Christmas.
“You’re seriously going to keep that thing all to yourself?” Collin bounces down the back steps.
“Yep.” I smirk. I push off again, beyond thrilled he joined me.
The snow’s so deep it comes up to his knees.
“So what happened with you and Brady?” I ask as he gets closer. “Because that’s quite a shiner you have there.”
“Worried about his mom, and . . .” He pulls a deep breath in.
“And?”
“How much I’ve watched you.” Like he’s doing right now. His gorgeous eyes completely unwavering.
Instead of being sorry, or feeling bad, my cheeks heat up, forcing me to look down for a moment, ecstatic that this hasn’t been one-sided.
“May I join you?” He’s close now.
“Of course.” I slide over to make room on the wide plank of a swing.
He sits, and we both have to have a hand on each rope, so we’re sort of half holding each other, and I don’t think he really meant to be. But now I’m staring up at him and he’s staring back down at me, and I’m not sure where I should go, only I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to keep being on this swing with his warmth and his awkward sweetness.
But I’m locked into his eyes, and he’s locked into mine, and I realize that I need him to kiss me. Before it can even formulate into a thought that could turn into action, his lips are on mine. I kiss him, lips slightly parted, and he kisses me back the same way, and I sort of want to devour him on this swing, which isn’t like me at all, and then he pulls away. Too soon.
“Sorry.”
My chest drops. Hollows. “Sorry? Is that really an appropriate thing to say after kissing a girl?” I try to tease, but my heart’s pounding so hard because part of me knows this is a mistake—the whole falling for someone under the roof of my almost husband, but Collin’s here, and I can’t imagine not kissing him again.
“No. I mean. I just didn’t expect to kiss you here like this. After Brady today, I promised that I’d wait, and then I saw you out here, and I was going to meet with Madeline later, and . . .”
“And I’m in Jacob‘s house.” It all goes on the list of reasons that this is probably not the best idea.
“And that.”
We swing in silence for a few more moments.
“Why are you here, Norah?” he asks.
I sigh. “To prove that I could do it, I think. My parents don’t celebrate Christmas, and Tabby, my good friend, has a very loud family. I don’t know.”
“Are you sorry?”
My head snaps up. “No. Of course I’m not sorry.”
“Sometime soon I’m going to want your life story.” A corner of his mouth pulls up, and his breath hits my face.
“I’m not that interesting,” I tease.
“I bet you are.” He leans slightly closer.
“So, does that mean you’ll repay the favor?” I ask, feeling a little like I might dissolve into the snow if we don’t kiss again.
“I’m not nearly interesting enough.” He chuckles. “But I’d tell you everything if you wanted to hear it.”
“I want to hear it,” I whisper.
We’re too close. But perfectly close.
The deep in my stomach kind of need-you tingles start up again. His mouth is on mine, and then the kiss grows deeper, and deeper, and my arms must be around him so I let go of the ropes and start to slide my arms around his neck, only now I’m not holding on, and I moved, and the slide is so fast I don’t know what’s happened until we’re both in a heap in the snow.
I’m laughing and his laugh fills the air, and swells in my chest, and there’s snow on his face and I kiss it off until we’re not laughing.
“I’m so glad I met you.” There’s nothing crooked or shy about this smile. He takes his hand from inside his glove to brush the snow from my face with his warmth.
The most delightful shivers run through me, and all I want for Christmas Eve is to run somewhere with him where we could sit by a fire and drink hot chocolate and read, and maybe kiss some more or share life stories . . .
His lips touch mine. Again. And his kiss deepens. Again. And the moment is about as perfect as a first kiss moment could be.
“Jerkoff!” A bright blond girl screams from the porch, making me jump from his side. What the . . .?
The backdoor slams shut, and Jean stands there, her hand on her mouth, her eyes wide in shock until her chin starts to tremble before she stumbles inside.
“Crap.” I breathe out.
Collin jumps to his feet and reaches his hand down. As much as I try, I don’t get a glimpse of his eyes, of his face.
I’m so stupid. He apologized because it shouldn’t have happened. Because he didn’t want it to. Right? Am I completely confused for no reason?
I am an idiot.
“Look. Norah. I gotta. I mean. Her and I have stuff to. Sort. I told her I wasn’t seeing anyone, and . . .” He starts to turn toward the house. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.”
Yeah. Sorry. Me, too. And I’ll be back? He’s a half-blur as he runs into the house after the ex-fiancé. And I’ve managed to have Brady’s eyes on me looking annoyed, and maybe gotten between him and Collin.
And Jean. I don’t even want to think about that mess.
What a disaster. Fabulous moments like kissing on a swing in the backyard shouldn’t be tainted with anything but wonderfulness.
Guess I screwed this one up. Big time.
I want to tell Jean I’m sorry, but I need out of here. No one’s to be found as I walk through the house. Not Collin. Not Brady, and definitely not Jacob’s parents. I step into his old room and know that I don’t belong here.
Maybe we were all looking for something to happen this Christmas that was impossible. I know now that part of me wanted to be here to be closer to him, but it’s not the same anymore. When I came here soon after his death, it felt like he could still be alive. I’ve moved too far past that now. I know he’s not coming back, and being here is just a reminder.
My guess is that Jean felt the same way. That she, too, felt as if spending this time with me would make her feel closer to her son, and instead I’m guessing it made her face again that she’s lost her son.
My kiss with Collin probably just magnified that realization. Another reason I suck.
Now Collin is who-knows-where with his ex, and I just need out of this house. I pack up my clothes, and grab my few toiletries from the bathroom. Jean doesn’t need any reminders that I was here. I’m sure at this point it would just make things worse.
The crappiest thing—well, aside from Collin practically running away from me—is that I’ve really messed up my relationship with Jean.
I zip up my bag and head out.
“Norah, wait.” Brady stands outside my door.
“Look, I’m sorry.” I gesture between us, but have no idea what I hope to say or accomplish by talking to him right now. “I haven’t. I mean, I don’t . . .”
“Mom was just surprised, that’s all. I keep waiting for her to come out of the haze of losing him, but she really hasn’t. Not yet. She’ll get over it, Norah. I promise.” His voice is calm and quiet, nothing like the frustration or anger that I half-expected.
“Thanks. I know. It was stupid, I just . . .” I rub my forehead with my fingers trying to press out the tension.
“He’s a really good guy.”
“Who just chased his fiancé,” I say.
“Ex-fiancé,” he corrects. “You know, Norah. This is really weird for me, but I get it. I feel protective of you because of my brother, and . . . And maybe I shouldn’t.” This is maybe even more understanding than I thought I’d ever get from Brady.
“I’m going home.” I don’t even realize that’s where I’m going until I say it out loud.
“Don’t blame you.” He steps forward, gives me a long hug, and carries my bag to the door.
“Thank you for having me. I wouldn’t change having your family in my life for anything.” I hope he knows I mean it. “I really need to talk to your mom before I go.”
Brady shakes his head. “Come by tomorrow for dinner. Give a call. But she might need a few minutes right now to process. She’s got me and Dad. She’ll be okay.”
All I Want (Three Holiday Romances) Page 5