Nicole knew that she could take the microphone, get the audience to settle down and hand the microphone back to Erin so she could speak her lines. But she also knew that wouldn’t go over well. Erin needed to do this on her own so she felt she’d succeeded in her role.
“Take this,” Nicole said, removing the whistle from around her neck. She used it to get the kids to pay attention when they were especially excited and her voice alone wasn’t enough to reach them. She’d forgotten to take it off after their final rehearsal this afternoon.
“Oh! Okay.” Erin gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, Miss Bradshaw.”
“You’re welcome, Erin.” With that, Nicole returned to her position backstage and watched Erin in action. Ready to step in again if the need was there.
It wasn’t. Erin blew the whistle into the microphone three times in quick succession, just as she’d seen Nicole do during more than one rehearsal. Instantly, the audience clamor quieted.
“I’m very happy that you all like the play so much,” Erin said into the microphone, her voice crystal clear. “But I am not done yet, so if you could all please take your seats so I can finish, that would be very nice. And you can clap again after. If you want.”
Oh, that kid. She was incredible.
Ripples of laughter flowed from the people in the audience, but every one of them did as Erin had asked, and only then did the Fairy Godmother reappear to bring the official ending to the play. When she was done speaking, Erin stood there. Waiting, Nicole thought, for the audience to stand again, to clap again, but they didn’t. They waited as well, in perfect silence.
Finally, Erin brought the microphone to her mouth again, saying, “And that’s it! We’re done! Merry Christmas, everyone, and thank you for...for attending our play.” She paused an additional second. Then, “You can clap again now. If you want.”
And just like before, the audience came to their feet in a standing ovation, clapping and hollering. This time, Erin’s face was wreathed in a big, bright smile that stayed there for the final curtain call, as every cast member made their way onstage. Nicole was so proud of Erin, of all the kids, that she almost forgot she was part of the final curtain call, too.
But when she remembered, she walked onto the stage and, in an unplanned move, gestured for Erin and Megan to join her at the front. She held out her hands to the girls, which they clasped from each side of her, and then together they bowed.
It was rather wonderful.
The glow stayed with Nicole as she finished putting away the costumes and tidying up backstage. When she had picked up the last water bottle, she let out a breath of relief. There. Now she could go home and relax. Her work here was done. As she was putting on her coat, she heard someone clearing their throat from behind her. A very male someone.
A specific male at that. Parker.
She plastered a smile on her face before turning around. He was with the girls, and all three of them were bundled in their winter coats, apparently as ready as she was to go home. And the wish that she was going with them appeared. Just as big and bright as Erin’s smile was earlier.
Keeping her voice modulated, she said, “Well, hello there, Lennox team. Can’t get enough of this stage, huh?”
“We wanted to say thank you, Miss Bradshaw,” Megan said. “Because you helped us have a really great show, and we had a lot of fun.”
“Yes, Nicole,” Parker said, his hooded, completely unreadable gaze on hers. “Thank you, also, for helping Erin out when the crowd went crazy. It...well, it means a lot.”
Oh, where was that man she’d originally met? The one whose smile weakened her knees, and whose arms she felt so very safe and secure in? He was still there, she knew, just in hiding. And yes, she missed him. Wondered if she’d ever see him again.
“Of course I helped Erin,” she said. “But really, she did it mostly on her own. She just needed a little push to figure out what to do. Isn’t that right, Erin?”
Erin nodded but didn’t actually talk. Just stood pressed against her father’s side and stared at Nicole with sadness and something else. Longing, maybe? Maybe that.
“I’m sorry, but we have to get going,” Parker said. “Reid and Daisy were here for the play, and they’re waiting for us. We just wanted to say our thanks. And—” He broke off abruptly, and for a glorious second, his shields dropped. She saw the pain and confusion; it lingered there, in his eyes. But she also saw everything she always had.
Care and concern. Attraction and want. Need and desire. So yes. Her Parker hadn’t abandoned the building yet. Which meant that her hope still had wings.
“How are you?” he asked. “Feeling okay? No more dizzy spells?”
“I’m feeling great,” she said honestly. Hey, physically she was, if not emotionally. “And now that I carry snacks around with me, no...no more dizzy spells.”
“Good. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I am.” And then, because she had to, she knelt down and opened her arms. Both girls came running, and she gave the tightest of hugs. She missed them, too. “You girls have the best Christmas ever, okay?” she said softly. “And I’ll see you soon.”
They were gone then, as quickly as they’d arrived. But less than thirty seconds after the trio had departed, Erin returned. This time, by herself. She rushed in, breathless, and stopped in front of Nicole. “I need to tell you something,” she said, her words a jumble. “But Daddy’s waiting, so I have to be fast. We’re going out for pizza.”
Not that long ago, Nicole would’ve been going with them. Silly to be sad over that. She could go home and order a dozen pizzas if she chose. “Sure, honey. Is something wrong?”
“No.” Erin stubbed her boot-covered toe against the floor. “I just... Remember the angel my mommy painted?” she asked. “The one that looks just like you?”
“I’ll never forget her, Erin,” Nicole said, wondering what was on the child’s mind. “But you know, what your dad said was right. That she looks like me is just a coincidence.”
“Daddy is wrong.” Erin lifted her chin a stubborn notch. “I think...I think Mommy sent you to us, and that’s why she painted the angel to look like you. So we would know. And...and that’s why you were dressed as an angel that night. To make sure we found you.”
Nicole’s heart melted and emotion clogged her throat. She leaned over and kissed the top of Erin’s head. “Sweetheart, that’s such a lovely thought, but...your mom didn’t know me when she painted that angel. So, she couldn’t have purposely made her look like me.”
“She knew,” Erin said. “And Daddy says when you believe in something, anything is possible. So, I believe she wanted us to find you so badly, she knew how to paint that angel.”
And really, how was a person to argue with that?
* * *
A couple of days before Christmas, and Parker was miserable. Beyond belief, miserable. He couldn’t stop thinking about Nicole, the baby growing inside of her, how they’d left things or how much he missed her. How much his instincts still shouted that she was “the one.”
What he hadn’t been able to do was extinguish his concerns, his fear, that being with Nicole, loving Nicole, would only end in tragedy. For him and for the girls. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. There wasn’t any logic there. The fear was completely based in emotional memory. That what had happened once was more likely to happen again.
A true enough statement in many cases—yes, the sun would rise tomorrow, just as it had today, as an example—but in this case? It didn’t hold water, but the logic, the truth of that, hadn’t seemed to gain any ground. He couldn’t—just couldn’t—put himself through the agony of losing another woman he loved, and he couldn’t do that to the girls, either.
But everything he knew insisted she was meant for him, that he was meant for her, and he couldn’t extinguish that belie
f any easier than the other. So, there he went, spinning in circles, going back and forth, back and forth, like a damn seesaw.
And now, here he was, standing in a pair of skis. Something he said he’d never do again. But when he’d dropped the girls off at Daisy’s that morning, for a day of baking cookies, Reid had been preparing to take the twins on their first skiing expedition. Probably, Reid had planned the timing that way, in an effort to lure Parker to join them. And it had worked.
Mostly because, simply speaking, Parker didn’t have the energy to argue.
It was, Parker had to admit, a beautiful day to ski. Not that he was actually skiing, but the sun was bright, the sky was a clear robin’s egg blue and not so much as a flurry danced in the air. But it felt strange and uncomfortable being here, even if he wouldn’t be skiing. There was literally zero risk involved, yet somehow he still felt as if he’d broken a self-made promise.
At the moment, he and Reid were in a relatively flat clearing near the bunny slope, just trying to get the kids comfortable in a pair of skis. So far, neither Alexander nor Charlotte were that interested in the prospect. They were far happier digging their hands into the snow than they were with learning how to move in their tiny skis. That was fine. At their age, just keeping the skis on their feet for more than three minutes at a time counted as a success, the goal being to orient them with how that felt so it didn’t seem foreign, and to build on that in future sessions.
So, while he and Reid chatted about the holidays, work, the girls and Daisy, they mostly let the twins do what they wanted. And that gave Parker plenty of time to ponder this ongoing fight between logic and emotion, fear and instinct. Loving Nicole, even with that fear, maybe even accepting that fear was part of the bargain, or letting her go and all that could entail.
He wasn’t sure why, but he kept equating this battle with his skiing accident. It was the risk, he supposed, the unknown, but also that illogical belief that if something happened once, it was likely to happen again. It was that same belief, that same fear that had led him to hang up his skis, to decide the sport held too much risk for a single dad.
But really, he’d skied most of his life. And he’d skied a lot. When that ratio was put into play, he had a much greater chance of never having another skiing accident again than he did of having a second, nearly fatal crash. Once that thought hit his brain, he couldn’t get rid of it.
So, probably because of his present location, the fact that he was already wearing skis and his determination to get to the bottom of this dilemma, he kept thinking he should push against one fear in order to eradicate the other fear.
Meaning, he should follow Reid’s advice and get back on the damn horse.
Adrenaline kicked in, and all at once, he decided to go for it. Oh, he wouldn’t take on an advanced run, or even an intermediate—it had been years since he’d skied now—but he could handle a beginner run. Couldn’t he?
“Hey, Reid,” he said, before he lost his nerve and changed his mind, before he made what could be the ultimate mistake in letting Nicole go. “There’s something important I need to do, and no, I don’t want to explain. But I probably need about thirty minutes. Do you mind if—”
“Go,” Reid said, interrupting him. “It’s the perfect day to get back on the slopes.”
Of course his friend would know what he had planned. Hell, he’d probably known this would happen from the beginning, which was why he’d asked for Parker’s help in the first place. Parker didn’t say any of this, though, just nodded and headed for one of the beginner slopes in ground-eating—or in this case, snow-eating—steps.
He had a wall to break down, and hopefully, an amazing, beautiful future to claim. First, though, he had to prove he could ski again—and live.
Chapter Thirteen
Christmas Eve morning, Nicole was awakened by the sound of Roscoe’s exuberant barking, followed quickly by the peal of the doorbell. She rolled to her side to check the time, saw it was only eight thirty and seriously considered ignoring her mystery guest. Who came visiting on Christmas Eve, before ten in the morning, without even calling first?
She closed her eyes and gave it a go, but Roscoe’s barking continued, and when the doorbell rang for the third time, she hauled herself out of bed, annoyed. Today was supposed to be her day, and her plan had been to sleep until noon, watch Christmas movies, bake a pie for her parents’ house tomorrow and wrap her remaining gifts.
As she walked toward the front door, she amended her plan to include a long afternoon nap. A glance out the window, where Roscoe had decided to stand and bark, showed a U-Haul truck parked at the house across the street. New neighbors, moving in on Christmas Eve? That probably explained her surprise visitor. He or she or they had decided to come and introduce themselves. Which was fine and all. But couldn’t they have waited until, oh, one in the afternoon, rather than waking her up three and a half hours before she wanted? When she actually had clothes on instead of a pair of pajamas?
Sighing, frustrated and tired, Nicole threw open the door with far more force than necessary, expecting to see a stranger on her porch. But who she saw was Parker. And oh, did he look wonderful to her eyes. Tall and strong, handsome and sure.
And that hooded gaze was gone. This was her Parker. She was sure of it.
“Oh. Hi there, Parker,” she said, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering around at top speed. “You’re up bright and early. Is...um...everything okay with the girls?”
“The girls are great, other than they’re missing you.” Then, as if he’d just noticed her appearance, her mussed hair and polka-dot pajamas, he winced. “Did I wake you?”
“You did. Or, rather, Roscoe did, because of you, but...it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry I woke you, but I had to be here early, and I wasn’t sure what your plans were for today.” Worry flickered over his features. “And I didn’t know if you’d stick around to talk to me, if I called first. I...haven’t behaved well, Nicole.”
He still stood on the porch. The door was still hanging open. She was still in her pajamas. And it was freaking cold outside, so rather than respond to that last sentence, she said, “Why don’t you come in? I can make some coffee and we can talk. Oh, and I have a couple of presents for the girls. I meant to bring them to the play, but completely forgot.”
“Funny that,” he said, a gleam of mischief darting into his blue eyes. “I have a present for you, as well. And Reid is out there, waiting to help me bring it in so he can get back home. It’s a...rather large gift, so I didn’t gift wrap it. I’m hoping you won’t mind that.”
“You bought me a gift?” she said faintly, somehow more surprised by this than finding Parker to begin with. What had he bought her? “And Reid is here... Wait. You left him out there, just waiting? On Christmas Eve?”
“He’s fine,” Parker said. “And as I said, he’ll head home once we’ve...ah...brought in your present. Why don’t you get dressed while we do that? And don’t come out again until I say to, okay? That way, even though it isn’t wrapped, it can still be a surprise.”
“Um. Sure. I’ll...uh...just go put some clothes on.” Confused, unsure if Parker was sticking around when Reid left, Nicole went to her bedroom and sat down on the edge of her bed. He had to be here for a good reason, a better reason than delivering a gift, right?
Or, she supposed, he could be here to apologize, to ask if they could just focus on a friendship because anything more was just too much, and the gift was meant to seal the deal. Because, really, how romantic could a “large” gift be? It wasn’t a pair of earrings or a necklace, a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates. Those were romantic gifts.
Sighing, Nicole lay back on her bed and rubbed her still-flat stomach. “Doesn’t matter, baby, because I’ve wanted and waited and done everything I can just to have you. And while I know that Parker is a wonderful father,
and that he would love you very much, and we would be so lucky to have him in our lives, we’ll be okay without him.”
And yes, she would be just fine without Parker. She’d get up and live her life, as she always had, tackle whatever problems came her way with every ounce of strength and hope she could muster. But with him by her side, she would be incredible. They would be incredible.
Well. Either way, he was here for a reason. On Christmas Eve, no less. Which meant that Parker had come to a decision, one way or the other, and whatever that decision was, she knew she’d be able to rely on his words. If all he wanted, all he thought he could manage between them was friendship, then he would be the best friend she ever had.
She did not doubt this. And that, right there, was another gift.
If he’d slayed his demons, believed in them and the future they’d talked about and had reached that miraculous decision, well, she would be able to count on that, too. He wouldn’t bounce back and forth, going from one extreme to the other. Parker was reliable. Stronger than he realized, and he wouldn’t promise her anything he didn’t plan on delivering.
And that was when she remembered Roscoe, who, the last time she’d seen him, was barking out the living room window. Well, he wasn’t barking now, and if Parker’s gift required two well-built men to lift, they’d have to leave the front door open when they brought it in. Which would, once again, give her wanderlust dog a chance to escape.
Panic built in her chest. No. Not again. Please.
Though, she reasoned with herself and with the panic, she hadn’t yet heard any commotion coming from the living room. Perhaps, her dog was still safe and sound, staring out the window. If that were the case, she did not want to ruin Parker’s surprise, so she cracked open her bedroom door and called for Roscoe. He did not obey her command. Darn it all!
She went into the hallway and peeked around the corner. No sign of Parker, Reid or an extra-large gift yet, but the front door was, indeed, hanging open. She sprinted into the living room. No sign of her dog, either. Had he already made his escape?
Their Christmas Angel Page 16