A Husband for the Holidays (Made For Matrimony 1)

by Ami Weaver

  They’d both made mistakes. But the question was—was it too late to fix them?

  * * *

  Marla called up the stairs, “There’s someone here to see you, Darcy.”

  Darcy frowned at the laundry she was folding. “Be right down,” she called back. If it’d been Mack, Marla would have said so. But it wouldn’t be him, not now. Not since she’d told him the ugly truth. She’d handled it poorly, to be sure. She’d run when she should have tried to make him see. The look on his face when he’d shut down—she shivered at the memory. He’d never looked at her like that. As if she were a stranger.

  She came downstairs and stared at the man in the kitchen. Chase. She hadn’t been expecting to see him, either.

  Marla folded the dish towel and hung it over the stove handle. “Nice to see you again, Chase.” She gave Darcy’s arm a little squeeze as she left the room.

  “Um, hi,” she managed. Chase had been decidedly unfriendly to her over the past weeks, clear in his anger over her treatment of Mack all those years ago. She’d never blamed him, had accepted it as her due. “Have a seat,” she suggested, and started toward the table. Chase shook his head.

  “No, thanks. This will only take a minute.” He looked at her, and she could see his mistrust of her hadn’t abated, but there was resignation in there, too.

  “Okay,” she said slowly, curiosity almost getting the better of her. But she waited for him to speak.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly.

  He nodded. “Mack is in love with you. Still. Hell, he’d kill me if he knew I was here. I don’t know what you feel for him, if you ever loved him. You left him behind awfully easily.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” she shot back. It’d been so hard. So. Hard.

  “You left him,” Chase repeated. “Is this time going to be different?”

  “What do you mean?” His words were starting to sink in. Mack is in love with you. Chase would probably know that. More than anyone else. He and Mack had always been close. Her heart gave a little flutter.

  He looked her in the eye. “You know what I mean,” he said quietly.

  She lifted her chin. “That’s my business.”

  “I disagree. It’s Mack’s, too. Fix this for both of you or he’ll be the wreck he was when you left the first time.”

  “Wreck?” He hadn’t tried to contact her after the divorce. They’d communicated only through lawyers. It had only served, at the time, to reinforce she’d done the right thing.

  “Yes. A wreck. Now you’re going to walk away. Again. And leave him to pick up all the pieces. Why?” He turned to go. “I’m not the one who needs the answer to that question. But if you love my brother, you’d better figure this out quick. I don’t think you’ll get a third chance.”

  She didn’t want a third chance. She hadn’t been sure she should have a second chance. She stood for a moment, heard the door close, then an engine start.

  Chase was right. She had to do something, something to fix this.

  She hurried out into the living room, where her aunt and uncle were watching a Christmas movie on TV and Marla was knitting. “I’m going into town.”

  Marla frowned in concern. “Now? It’s so late.”

  “I know. It’s important.” More important than anything.

  “All right,” Marla said. “Are you going to see Mack?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Her aunt and uncle exchanged smiles. “Good for you,” Marla said at the same time Joe said, “’Bout time.”

  Darcy took the stairs two at a time, grabbing her purse and keys and running back down. She didn’t know what kind of reception she’d get. Or if he’d even be home, actually.

  She knew exactly what she was going to do. It was all so clear, and felt completely right.

  * * *

  She drove as fast as the conditions allowed, but once she got there and parked in front of the house, she sat for a moment. She’d been trying to rehearse what to say to him, but nothing really stuck. Now, in front of the house, seeing the dark shape of the tree they’d picked out and decorated, her heart squeezed.

  She’d been so wrong. So afraid. And she’d taken it out on him.

  She got out of her car and took a deep lungful of the cold, still air. All around were houses all decked out for the holidays—trees in windows, twinkle lights on trees and houses and bushes. But this one—this one was dark.

  She walked up the drive to the front door and knocked.

  After a moment the door opened. Mack stood there, silhouetted against the frame. She linked her fingers to keep them from shaking. “Can I come in?”

  In answer, he stepped out of the way and she came in, closing the door behind her. He went and sat back on the couch, arms crossed. So he wasn’t going to make this easy. That was okay. It shouldn’t be easy.

  She perched opposite him on a chair, her back to the tree and the window. She unzipped her coat but didn’t take it off. He muted the TV and gave her his full attention, but she couldn’t read his expression. She took a deep breath. “Mack. I’m so sorry. I really handled this wrong.” It was an understatement and didn’t really cover the depth of her feelings.

  He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. He was wearing gym shorts despite the cold temperature outside. “Me, too.”

  That stopped her in her tracks. She frowned. “You? How did you?”

  “I didn’t pay close enough attention, then or now. You weren’t wrong. I was pretty sure of myself. Of us. Too sure.” He gave her a pained grin. “I didn’t mean to be overbearing, Darce. I just thought—I just thought it’d all kind of work out on its own.”

  That little flutter of hope grew into a flare. She took a chance and moved next to him on the couch. He didn’t move away. “I should have talked to you, told you what I was feeling, instead of hiding it from you. And I should have come home long before now to apologize.” Of all of it, that was what she regretted the most. She’d let so much go—not just Mack, but her friendships here in town, and let her aunt and uncle down, too. All because she’d been unable to face her feelings.

  “Darce.” There was a tenderness in his voice now that made her eyes burn. He ran his hand along her jaw and she turned her face into his palm. The heat of his touch made her want to burrow into him and never let go. Ever. “No apologies. We both screwed up. If I could go back, I’d ask you what was wrong and pester you until you told me. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him, almost afraid to breathe. “What are you saying?”

  “I love you. That’s what I’m saying. I never stopped. I was going to ask you to stay, but I realized that’s not fair. Jenn can run this practice with one hand tied behind her back. I can find a place in Chicago—”

  “Wait.” Her heart leaped with joy. In all that was one important point she needed to hear again. “You love me? Really?”

  “Really.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered, and kissed him back, trying to pour all she felt into the kiss so he would know she’d never leave again. Just as his hands came up under her shirt, she eased back. “But. There’s one thing you should know.”

  He eased back but kept his arms around her. “What’s that?”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m not leaving. I’m not going back to Chicago. Well, not for long anyway. I’m going to quit my job and move up here to run the tree farm.”

  Mack stared at her. “You what? You are?”

  She nodded. “I haven’t been happy there since I left here. Coming back here was coming home. You’re here. My roots are here. And I want to make all that work.” It had taken losing him—again—to make her see it and realize it.

 
He sat back. “Wow. Do your aunt and uncle know?”

  She shook her head. “No. Not yet. I just decided. I know you guys wanted to buy it—”

  “I think your aunt and uncle will be thrilled to sell it to you. I think that’s part of why they wouldn’t finalize the sale until after you left. They were hoping you’d take it over.”

  Sneaky of them, too. “I don’t know how it all will work. You’ve got this adorable little house. I’d hate to move you out to the farm—I mean, if this is going anywhere...” She faltered. Was she getting ahead of herself? He pulled her in for another kiss.

  “Oh, it’s going, sweetheart. As soon as you’re willing, I’m ready. I bought this house for us. Well, I found it and before I could tell you about it, the accident happened. But this is where I wanted to raise our son, and any brothers and sisters he might have had. After you left, I went ahead and finalized the sale and remodeled it. It’s what saved my sanity.”

  Darcy stared at him, her jaw on the floor. She hadn’t known he’d bought a house at that time. Or even that he’d been looking. She’d shut down at any mention of Mack and her aunt had eventually stopped bringing him up. It had been too hard.

  “I— Wow. Mack. You bought this house for us?” Was that why it’d felt so homey to her? Tears gathered in her eyes, but this time they were happy tears. “Then, let’s stay here.”

  “No rush to figure it out,” he whispered against her neck. She laid a hand on his chest. He stopped and looked up at her, heat and exasperation in his gaze. “We’re still talking?”

  She had to laugh. “Yes. We are still talking. There’s one more thing.”

  He sighed and trailed his hand up her side, over her breast, clearly with something else on his mind. “Okay. What’s that?”

  She hesitated. “I know you wanted more kids. And you know I most likely can’t have them.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?” She held her breath.

  “And what?” He sat up and looked at her steadily. “There are lots of ways to make a family, Darce. We can adopt. Try fertility treatments if you want. Be foster parents. I’m open to anything.”

  The love she felt for him rose and nearly swamped her. She couldn’t say anything, so she just nodded.

  He kissed her again and pulled her in close. “Now are we done talking?” The words were a playful growl.

  She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck as he scooped her off the couch and started toward his bedroom. She pressed her face into his shoulder, closed her eyes and held on tight.

  Oh, yes. She was definitely home.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS by Marie Ferrarella.

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  Coming Home for Christmas

  Marie Ferrarella

  Prologue

  It felt very odd to be back.

  In all honesty, he never thought he’d be back here again. Not back in this city. Certainly not back in this house.

  But then, he never thought his mother would become someone he’d be forced to think of in the past tense, either.

  Granted, he and his mother hadn’t spoken in almost ten years. But despite his criticism the last time words—angry, hot words—had been exchanged between them, she had always struck him as being a force of nature. Forces of nature didn’t just cease to exist. They continued. Whether or not someone was there to witness the force, it continued.

  Somewhere in his unconscious, he had thought his mother would be the same way. She would just continue.

  But Dorothy O’Connell didn’t continue. Quite abruptly, without any warning, without any lingering diseases, her heart just suddenly gave out and she died. If it hadn’t been for the phone call he’d received from her neighbor, he wouldn’t even have known this had transpired.

  Well, now he knew. Knew when there was nothing further he could do about it. Knew that there would never be an opportunity to mend the rift that had existed between them.

  Not that there would have been much chance of that, even if she were still alive and they had another twenty years. The wounds had gone too deep.

  And he had lost his mother long before he’d walked out of the house that day.

  Keith sighed as he looked around the first-floor family room. You would think, after ten years—and knowing that she was gone—he wouldn’t expect to see her come walking into the room. Wouldn’t, on some level, strain to hear the sound of her voice as she called out to him, or to Amy.

  Or both.

  The house had always been filled with her voice and her presence. At least, he amended, for most of the years he’d lived in it. It was only after—after the car accident—after Amy wasn’t around anymore—that everything changed.

  And somehow, in an odd sort of way, it had stayed the same. Except tenser. So much tenser. He supposed that part of it had been his fault, too.

  Keith shrugged even though there was no one there to see him do so. No one there to call him on it.

  It didn’t matter. All the tension, the things that were said, the things that weren’t said, none of it mattered anymore. It was all in the past now.

  Just like his mother was in the past.

  He was here. Here to tie up all the loose ends, to tend to the arrangements. To shut down that chapter of his life and put it all away in a box.

  After all, life went on. Except, of course, when it didn’t.

  Keith resisted the fleeting temptation to go upstairs and look into rooms he hadn’t looked into in ten years. There was no point to that. He wasn’t here to thumb a ride down memory lane. He was here for one purpose only: to sell the house and everything in it. The items in the house were of no use to him and hadn’t been for a very long time.

  Squaring his shoulders, Keith got down to business. The sooner he was finished, the sooner he could get back to the firm up north in San Francisco and to his life.

  And forget all about the house on Normandie in Bedford and the woman who had lived in it.

  Copyright © 2015 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella

  ISBN-13: 9781460387122

  A Husband for the Holidays

  Copyright © 2015 by Ami Weaver

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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