“It is.”
More silence. I reached up and brushed his sweat damp hair back from his forehead. “You okay?”
He nodded, his eyes finding mine once more. “The last time I was in Maple Grove for a Christmas, my mother was still alive.”
Shit. I forgot that his mom died the day after Christmas. My heart ached for him and for his mother, who never got to see her only son graduate high school, never got to see what an incredible and talented man he turned out to be. There was nothing I could say to that. It sucked. It freaking sucked and I knew just how he felt. “She would be so proud of you,” I whispered.
His lips tipped into a sad smile. “Thanks. Your mother would be proud of you, too.”
I snorted. It was sweet of him to say, but it wasn’t true. “Proud of what?” I gave up. I gave it all up. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. I told myself for years that I loved teaching—and it was true. I did love teaching. But I loved acting more. I missed the stage so much.
“Hey,” Taylor said. His fingers nudged my chin, bringing my gaze back to his. “She would be proud of what an amazing, caring, dedicated woman she raised. Not everyone would leave everything to come home and care for an ill parent.” He swallowed hard. “I sure as hell didn’t when my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I didn’t even come home after his surgery.”
I blinked. “I didn’t know he had cancer—”
“He’s fine now. In remission. Look, I know your mom and I were never close. For what is now an obvious reason, she never warmed up to me. But how could she not be proud of you?” Tears welled in my eyes as the knot in my throat grew.
We laid there together for several minutes in silence, and I listened to the deep, even pattern of his breath. It was hypnotic.
“I’ve got a confession to make, Paige,” he said, breaking the silence.
Oh, God. What was it? What bomb could he possibly drop on me after making love?
He sighed, pressing his lips together regretfully. “I actually hate musical theater.”
My jaw dropped. “What? How can you hate musicals? You starred in one!”
He shrugged. “I dunno. They’re just so fantastical… everyone breaking out in song and dance all the time—”
“Even Guys and Dolls?”
“Especially Guys and Dolls.”
Well, that was unexpected. He hated musicals. And musicals were my life. “That being said,” he continued, “I loved watching you on stage. You were so crazy talented. I remember our first rehearsal, you opened your mouth to sing If I Were a Bell and I seriously wondered who was playing the soundtrack behind you. To me, musicals themselves aren’t magical… but you on stage—you were magical.”
Holy crap. Warmth spiraled around my heart and hot tears pricked my eyes, not for the first time tonight. “Taylor… that was… wow, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” Silence wedged between us, thick and potent. I swallowed hard, finally breaking the quiet. “My mom was a beautiful dancer.” She had run the ballet studio here in town and it had taken her years to get it started. I leaned over to my bedside table where I had a framed 4x6 picture of her on the stage. The photo was old, black and white, and it had seen better days. Even within the frame, you could see that the corner had been bent and it had some serious damage on the corners. I tilted the image so he could see it. “This was her as Clara in The Nutcracker. She played the part several years in a row at Boston Ballet. She had dreams of returning to the stage, too. I think if she’d only had me, she might have. But then when Scott was born…” My voice faded and my cheeks heated, worried that I shouldn’t have brought Scott up.
But when I glanced up at Taylor, he was listening intently, his face impassive, flicking between me and my Walmart framed picture of my mom. “Is this okay to talk about?”
He nodded, but the movement was tight, his lips pressed into a blanched line. I cleared my throat and continued. “She did get to perform one more time, though. I was about four years old and Boston Ballet called her because their Clara got hurt in their final dress rehearsal. She packed us up and we all drove down to Boston where she performed every night for a week until their Clara was better.” I swallowed, dragging my fingers down the smooth glass of the picture. “I remember watching her every night and thinking that she looked like a princess. I wanted to be just like her. It was after that that I begged her to let me start dance lessons. I always wanted to take my students on a field trip to Boston to see The Nutcracker there.” I sighed. “But there were always reasons why we couldn’t. There wasn’t enough in the budget, it was too close to the holidays, we didn’t have enough chaperones, some of the students couldn’t afford it.” I shrugged, even though it sucked. My students would have loved seeing what prima ballerinas could do with movement alone—no lines, no singing. Just their bodies and a full orchestra behind them. “It’s just a shame because some of these kids may never get to New York or even Boston to see a professional show.”
Taylor regarded me for a long moment. “You love those students.”
I nodded. I did love them. Then he took the picture from my hands and looked at it. “She’s gorgeous,” he said. “You look a lot like her.” He glanced up at me and then down at her again. “Except your blonde hair.”
“Ah. Yes. I have my dad to thank for that.” I took the frame from him and put it back on my nightstand.
“Where’s your dad?”
“He died when I was just a few weeks old. I never knew him. Mom tried to do the single parenting thing with me for a few months in Boston, but it was too expensive. Too hard in a big city. She moved us here when I was a few months old. Apparently, she met your dad the day she was moving in—”
My voice broke off. Dang. I was talking a lot tonight. And frankly, probably none of this was interesting to him. That day? The day Scott was conceived was the last thing he wanted to hear about.
“No,” Taylor said. “Tell me.” He swallowed, his jaw tight. “I want to know.”
I cleared my throat, not sure how in detail he wanted me to go. “Obviously, I don’t remember any of this, but she told me about it years ago, after I moved home from college. I think when she got sick, she worried about what I thought of her—her reputation when the affair came out. She wanted me to know the truth—her truth.” I took a deep breath before continuing. It was his chance to stop me, in case he changed his mind and didn’t want to hear this. “The day we moved to Maple Grove, I was asleep in a car seat as she was attempting to unload heavy boxes from the car. Your dad was driving by and pulled over. He offered to help carry the boxes inside. As a thank you, she cooked dinner… one thing led to another.”
I paused, unsure of how much to tell him. But for the sake of my mom—for the sake of her reputation, she would have wanted Taylor to know this. “She didn’t know your dad was married until after. She said she waited for him to call her and when he never did, she was crushed. Then one day, she was grocery shopping and saw him… with your mom. And you. But by then, it was too late. She was pregnant again. She didn’t tell your dad about Scott until he was in middle school. And the only reason she did was because Scott was asking so many questions, she didn’t think she could continue lying to him.”
I finished their story. The same story Scott had tried to explain for years and Taylor wouldn’t hear any of it. But right now, I was grateful. I was so grateful that he finally listened. That he heard.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raspy.
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I should have listened earlier. Should have talked with Scott sooner.”
I blinked, my eyes misty as I stared into Taylor’s crystal blue gaze. “Does this mean you’ll talk to him now?”
He tilted his head, leveling me with his stare. “Maybe. Baby steps, you know. But… the way I figure it, if I’m going to be dating his sister, I probably need to be able to be in the same room with the guy.”
My breath hitched. Dating. We were dati
ng. Was this moving too fast? We didn’t even live in the same city, for god’s sake. Then again, he wasn’t asking me to marry him. He just wanted to go on a date.
“I had no idea your mom was a performer. I mean, I knew she taught at the ballet studio—”
“Where do you think I got it from? She was my number one fan,” I added, smiling sadly. “She wanted for me what she herself never got to follow through on.”
“What’s stopping you?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? “I keep wanting to go audition. There’s a repertory theater just north of Boston. They had an open casting call once a couple years ago. I made it as far as Amesbury before I panicked and turned around to come home.”
“They don’t have other open calls?”
I shook my head. “That was their last open call. Now it’s by appointment only, once a year.”
He swiped his thumb beneath my eye, brushing an errant tear from my cheek. “So why don’t you make an appointment?”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Taylor, come on.”
“Come on, what? You’re talented, Paige. You got into Northwestern on a scholarship. You of all people know how hard that is.” I drew in a deep breath through my nose. “When’s the next audition?” he asked.
“January 8th,” I answered automatically. I always knew their audition schedule. I kept every date in my calendar in case I ever get the courage to make an appointment.
“Email them,” he said, pushing. “What’s the worst that will happen? You don’t get the part and you come back home and continue teaching.”
“Maybe,” I said quietly. “We’ll see.”
He let out a low chuckle. “I know that maybe,” he said. “I’ve used that maybe. Usually when I would respond to people trying to pressure me to come visit Maple Grove.”
I snickered too, smacking his arm. “I haven’t acted in years. You say I was magical on stage… what if… what if that magic died?”
He shook his head, the pillow wrinkling at his cheek. “No way. Magic like that doesn’t die. It just goes dormant until you find your pixie dust again.”
I caught my bottom lip in my teeth. Could I do this? Really do this? Go for my dreams in the way my mom always wanted for me. I was scared… but that just meant I wanted it. Wanted it so bad that I could feel those nerves in the pit of my stomach without even having an appointment yet.
“I could even meet you here that morning and drive you down for the audition,” Taylor added.
“You would do that?”
He nodded. “Of course I would.”
I smiled, my heart so full, it felt like it was going to burst. “What if I chicken out?”
He shrugged. “Then we’ll go get breakfast instead. But Paige… it’s a lot harder to chicken out when you have an appointment and when someone else is driving.”
Through the crack of the door, I saw Maisey’s nose and heard a little whimper from the other side. “Maisey,” I scolded, “go to bed.”
Taylor turned his big, blue eyes to me in an expression so pitiful, he gave Maisey a run for her money with those puppy dog eyes. “Aw, come on. It’s Christmas Eve. Even I’m not that heartless.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You put on a good show, Taylor Wilson. But you are far from heartless.” Broken maybe. But not heartless. “Okay, fine,” I said, giving in. Taylor hopped out of bed, opening the bedroom door. He and Maisey came bounding back into bed and Maisey rolled onto her back between us.
“Nuh-uh, Maisey,” Taylor said, patting her butt. “That’s my spot.”
Reluctantly, she scooted to the foot of the bed and curled up in the corner with a sigh as Taylor slid in beside me, cupping my jaw and pressing a gentle kiss to my mouth.
“Merry Christmas Eve, Paige.”
“Merry Christmas Eve, Taylor.”
A soft growl came from the foot of the bed and lifting a brow, we both said in unison, “Merry Christmas Eve, Maisey.”
“She’s a prickly little thing, isn’t she?” Taylor joked.
I reached over, turning off the light beside us. “Shh, she’ll hear you.”
And there in the arms of Taylor Wilson, I fell asleep.
9
Taylor
The next morning, I let Paige sleep in and Maisey and I snuck out of bed to cook breakfast.
Shivering, I padded my way down the stairs in my boxers, hugging my arms into my bare chest. “Jesus, it’s cold, huh, Maisey?” She turned those big, brown eyes at me and pushed her nose into the closed door.
Stupidly, I’d left my duffel bag downstairs with all my clothes, so I had to roll out of bed freezing, wearing basically nothing. I bent, quickly grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. I didn’t quite have the shirt overhead yet, but with Maisey whining and pawing at the door, I opened it for her, still half naked.
She bolted out into the snow, nearly knocking over a startled looking Scott, there at the front door, ready to knock.
He looked as shocked as me, standing there in his down winter coat with the hood pulled up around his ears. “Taylor,” his gaze swept down my body, pausing briefly at my shirt that was still only halfway on revealing my bare abs. “What the hell are you—”
His gaze shifted from me to the staircase and back again to me. His voice lowered into a dangerous whisper. “You better not just be using her. I swear to god, I don’t care if you are my brother. Or if I am sorry for lying to you… I’ll kick your ass so hard, you won’t be able to play in this year’s Super Bowl. Which will suck for both of us because then all of New England will blame me if we lose.”
I put out a hand in an effort to calm him down. “Easy, Scott. I’m not just using her.”
His blue eyes narrowed even more. The same shade of blue as mine. And even though his hair was lighter, somewhere between mine and Paige’s coloring, I couldn’t deny he and I looked a hell of a lot alike. For the first time since high school, I was face to face with my brother. And I didn’t feel so alone in this world.
A lump lodged in the center of my throat.
“You’re not?” he asked.
“I’m not. I’m also not going to stand here and profess eternal love. She and I only just reconnected last night, but I can tell you that I like her. And I want to see where this goes.”
Like a single piece of chocolate on a summer’s sidewalk, I watched as his expression melted. “Okay, then,” he said quietly. “I, uh, I came by to shovel her walk,” he hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “And check on her. See if she wanted to do breakfast together since it’s Christmas Eve and all, but…” His gaze flicked briefly again to the stairs. “Obviously she has other plans today.”
He cleared his throat and as he turned to leave, giving a quick pat on Maisey’s head, I called out, “Scott, wait.”
He froze, his shoulders tightening around his ears and spun slowly to face me.
“I was going to come find you today,” I began, but the words tapered off. What was I trying to say?
His eyebrow arched and there was something in that stare he gave me that utterly reminded me of Paige. “You were?”
“Yeah. I’ve had a little time to think—”
“Twelve years to think,” Scott muttered.
I couldn’t argue with him on that, so I gave in, nodding with a chuckle. “Yep. Twelve years. And while I still hate that you lied to me for almost the entirety of our friendship… for the first time, I also understand maybe why you did.”
It was hard getting those words out. I had clung to my anger for so long that it had become a crutch for me. And in a way, I don’t think I was even mad at Scott anymore; hadn’t been in years. He was just the easiest scapegoat to cling to. Because being angry is easier than accepting the past and moving forward.
“Seriously?” Scott eyed me suspiciously. “You didn’t seem to be over it or understanding last night?”
“I know.” A lot had changed in the hours since I left the engagement party to now.
“Your words started sinking in, though. And if you had come to me with the truth back when you first found out we were brothers… how would that conversation had gone? ‘Hey bro, know how everyone thinks we look alike? It’s ‘cause your dad fucked my mom years ago.’ You were in a lose-lose situation. I see that now.”
His gaze traveled to the empty staircase, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Paige has a way of getting through to people, doesn’t she?” He brought his eyes back to me, leveling me with a calm stare. “Lose-lose situation. That’s what she always used to tell me when I would blame myself for you leaving.”
I shrugged. “She was right. I’m still working on getting over a lot from that year though, so I might need to take things kind of slowly.”
His smile grew. “Take it slowly. You sound like a chick.”
I laughed at that, shaking my head. “Come on. Let’s make coffee and when Paige wakes up, we can all grab breakfast.” I stepped aside to let both him and Maisey into the house.
He took a few cautious steps into the foyer, stomping the snow off his boots. Maisey on the other hand barreled in and beelined for her bowl of kibble in the kitchen. “You sure about this?”
In all honesty, no. I wasn’t. I hadn’t spoken to Scott in over a decade. I’d worried and plotted all the ways to avoid him at Cam and Lydia’s wedding. And in the course of eight hours and good night’s sleep, my world had flipped on its head.
Paige had changed everything. For so many reasons. Knowing what I know now about her mom’s story and how hard it must have been for the three of them as a family, I empathized with them in a way I never could when I was younger.
I took a deep breath, shutting the front door. “It’s Christmas Eve,” I said quietly. “I want to spend it with my brother.”
10
Paige
I awoke to the sound of laughter coming from downstairs. Deep, masculine laughter. And when I thrust my arm out, I was met with the empty, rumpled sheets on my left.
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