by Alexis Anne, Audra North, Julia Kelly, Alexandra Haughton
“You’re a really good actor.” She finally broke the silence. “Were you ever in any plays in high school? Silly question; don’t answer that. I can’t imagine you were.”
“Maggie.”
She never paused for a breath; just kept on talking. “You were probably playing football or hockey. Or both because you’re huge. I’m sure you played all the sports where they have huge players and…”
“Oh my word, y’all were incredible.” Caroline burst in the room with her usual dramatic flair, but he didn’t take his eyes off Maggie.
She shrugged. Their time was up.
Caroline didn’t even pause. Just took control of the room, hanging up Maggie’s costume and holding out a hand for his. “And here I don’t even have flowers for the stars! I saw Belinda Carmichael just now, and she had no idea she’d grabbed the wrong couple. None! I promised her I’d never tell a soul.”
Trey zoomed in, brandishing an extinguished candle like a cutlass, and Phil walked over and clapped him on the back. “Flynn! You’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s been too long. So glad you’re here to stay.”
Across the room, Maggie’s eyes widened imperceptibly, and then Caroline swept her up in a flurry of coat donning and scarf tying and hustling them all out the door because the lasagna was ready and they had to get the little guy fed and cookies out for Santa—and a billion other things she rattled off that got lost in the noise.
At the S word, Trey started shrieking. Lena started wailing. And he almost kissed Phil when he suggested Maggie ride back to the house with him.
* * * * *
Of course she couldn’t say no. Caroline wouldn’t understand if she refused to ride in the car with Chris.
Flynn. Oh God, she couldn’t call him Chris in front of Caroline or she’d know—she’d know!
And while her best friend was no prude, Maggie didn’t want to put her in the weird position of knowing that somehow she’d managed to have an indiscriminate fling with one of Phil’s oldest friends.
On the way out of the church, they were stopped about a hundred times. Most people wanted to know where their sweet baby was. Others to tell them what a beautiful family they were. She just smiled and said thank you. No need to burst the bubble on their happy holiday memories.
There was a sharp bite in the air as they made their way through the parking lot. But Chris—no, Flynn, she firmly reminded herself—moved to her right side to block most of the wind.
“I’m practically in Oklahoma. Had to park so far away.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t mind walking.” When a gust of wind kicked up, he put a hand on her back. When they threaded their way through a mass of cars waiting to get out on the main street, he took her arm. And Maggie was glad to be able to wind her scarf up over her nose and mouth to keep from having to tell him she could walk fine on her own.
But when they got in the car, when he turned the stereo down and the heater up in his rental, she didn’t have that excuse. The scarf had to come down. And the words had to be said.
“So that was kind of bizarre.” Her laugh was hollow. Like her insides. “I think we need a plan. A party line. So here’s how it’s gonna go.”
“Maggie, stop.” His hands were soft on the steering wheel. Though he’d backed in to the last spot in the overflow lot, they weren’t going anywhere fast. “You’ve already fed me this line about how Chicago didn’t matter to you.”
“I—what?” When he said it like that… “I never said it didn’t matter.”
“You told me to forget about you.”
“I did no such thing.”
He took a breath. Let it out. Moved to fiddle with some button on the dash.
“I guess I did kind of say that.”
“Yeah. You did.”
She couldn’t swallow. Started getting a little panicky and struggled to get her arms out of her coat. “I guess, I guess I did kind of leave you alone that morning. Without a note or—anything.”
“Look,” he said as they finally eased out of the spot. It was sleeting now, and the swish squawk of the wipers filled the silence. “I’m sorry if this is awkward for you. But Phil is like a brother to me. And now that I’ve taken a job here—”
There was a flash of white and a flurry of horns and red lights. He made some kind of evasive maneuver that was so competent he barely even paused his speech. “What I’m saying is I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to push anything that you don’t want. But I’m not going anywhere.”
She thought back to the look on his face when he’d told her he’d tried to find her. The way he looked at the kids. The way he looked at her. The way he just seemed to know, guh, everything she needed. And moreover, how to just be a quiet, steady presence she could lean on.
She shouldn’t want to lean on anyone. Foundations crumbled. People left.
Silly Maggie, he didn’t leave you that morning.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Alright then,” he said and made a left turn out onto the connector street.
She gave him directions to the house. It was all very perfunctory. But somewhere in the way he carefully handled the car in the slush, in the twinkle lights on every tree, and the solitude of the car’s interior, Maggie felt suffocated.
“Pull over. Please. Pull over.”
In a flash, they were in the Whole Foods parking lot, and he was rounding the front of the car and opening her door. Unbuckling her seat belt. She brushed his hands away, mortified that he thought she was going to be sick or something.
Maybe she was. She was heartsick. And the clawing feeling threatened to overwhelm her.
“Maggie.” He was crouched beside her open door. The sleet giving way to great gobs of snow that disintegrated on contact. He was going to freeze if he stayed out there much longer.
“I don’t hate Christmas.”
He didn’t respond, just took her two hands in his. The gloves he wore were soft, buttery leather that felt like heaven when he moved them over her skin.
“We put up the Christmas tree on Thanksgiving night. I love Christmas. Always have. I love being with my loud, obnoxious family, and getting out my granny’s silverware, and making Great-Grandma Embry’s cranapple pie. I love opening one present on Christmas Eve and staying up late playing cards. I love walking through the living room with my hands over my eyes to get to the kitchen for cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Spending all day in my pajamas. Getting bundled up and going for a long walk while the streets are quiet. Packing to go skiing. I love how Christmas makes me feel—like anything can happen if you just believe.”
“Sweet Maggie.” She was shivering when he drew her coat around her shoulders and pulled her from the car into his arms.
“I thought I could forget. I thought if I could just ignore everything this year, I could get over the hurt of losing that feeling. That if I spent Christmas with Caroline and her family, it would just be another day. But I can’t leave it behind. I can’t just bury those feelings no matter how hard I try.”
He let her hold him for a long time before he said anything. Before he pulled back and tipped up her chin. His nose was red; she wanted to weep for his cold nose.
“I’m not sure you should try. Life is unpredictable.” She wanted to weep for how earnest he was. How he searched for the words to say. “Messy. Because people are messy and nothing ever stays the same. But that doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again.”
And she wanted to weep for herself—for how his words struck all the minor chords in her heart, turned them with a major lift.
“It’s all your fault.” She resisted the urge to snuggle back into his chest, to lose herself in him again. “When we met, you know.”
“I do?”
She nodded. “And tonight, when we were up on that stage, I hated it so much because for a minute, I remembered. I remembered how beautiful everything could be. And those feelings hurt. And I—I’m terrified that they’ll go away.”
“T
hen hold on to them. Fight for them.” He pulled her close, and the beat of his heart under her cheek was strong and steady. “Hold on to me.”
The temptation to stay wrapped up in him was strong. “You terrify me.”
“Me? Why?” He started to step back, but she held on. “Am I coming on too strong?”
“No. You’re perfect.” She gave his middle one last squeeze and stepped back. “I know, I know. You’re not Jesus.”
“Damn straight, because I’m having particularly sinful thoughts right about now.” His profanity was charming, especially when paired with the mock-sinister way he waggled his eyebrows.
“How do you make me laugh when I’m this big ball of nerves inside? Why are you so good to me?” She play-slapped his chest, and he grabbed her hand. Pressed a kiss against her open palm. She melted a little, okay a lot, and held the kiss tight in her closed fist when he let go.
“Maybe because you’re good for me?” He was serious. All playfulness replaced by the honesty she’d sensed in him that first night. The night she’d been running and he’d caught her.
“You don’t even know me.” It was a whisper caught in the flakes that began falling in earnest now.
“You’re right. And that’s something I’d like to rectify. But first, let’s get in the car and get home.”
Home. The very word rustled up some hard core twanging in the vicinity of her heart. She was reluctant to leave this little bubble they’d built around themselves, a snow globe filled up with hope. And maybe a little something like love?
That thought sped up her pulse, and the bubble burst. She was cold. Really cold now that she wasn’t wrapped up in his arms. “We should probably get going.”
As if on cue, the car announced he had an incoming call from Phil. The phone in her pocket vibrated. “That’ll be Caroline.”
“Caroline’s lasagna waits for no man,” he joked. “And I have a prior claim on two corner pieces.”
“Oh, that’s cute you think so. Who do you think taught Caroline’s skinny southern girl butt to make a good lasagna?”
She gave a few navigation tips and they were off. They were more than halfway there, but with the streets gunking up quickly with the fat flakes, it was going to take a bit longer. He steered the car with that self-assured confidence he seemed to approach everything with. He was so good. So calm. And Maggie found herself just leaning her head back on the seat, watching the snow drift by.
When they pulled into the drive, he didn’t shut off the engine. Didn’t move to unbuckle his seatbelt. Just took her hand in his.
Was he as reluctant to leave as she was? Or was he regretting their heart-to-heart?
God, were the ever going to have just a normal date where she wasn’t spilling her guts or hopped up on emotional drama?
He leaned over the console and pressed his lips to hers.
It was over almost before it began, but he sat back in his seat with a contented sigh.
All signs pointed to yes.
“I think this is going to be the best Christmas ever.” The words surprised her. Not because she’d said them. But because she believed them.
He smiled, face lit up by the soft glow of the dash and the twinkle lights hanging off the house. And Maggie closed her eyes against the sudden swell of feelings.
“You feel like a gift.”
And there they went, all those messy feelings burrowing in close around her heart at his declaration. “Don’t shake me. I’m fragile.”
He squeezed her hand. The gesture more tender and intimate than anything that had come before. “I’ll handle you with care. I promise.”
They slip-slided up the front walk, holding hands and laughing, and before they could ring the bell, Maggie blurted out, “Meet me at midnight. Under the Christmas tree.”
“Wait. Does this mean I get to unwrap you?” He leered, and she leaned in for a quick, dirty kiss that just went on and on until Phil’s old lab started up a racket behind the front door.
“Flynn!” He was holding her by the hips, and she could hear the unmistakable clip of Caroline’s heels in the entryway.
“What did you just—you know what? Never mind. You can call me anything you like as long as…”
“What?”
He shook his head, and they were playing beat the clock against Caroline opening the door.
“Say it.”
“As long as you believe in this.” He kissed her as Caroline opened the door with a gasp.
He kept kissing her when the dogs jumped on their legs, and the baby started shrieking, and Phil made some comment about being glad the two of them were getting along. And he kissed her at midnight, when the house was quiet and the lights on the tree were shining just for them.
Oh, she believed. This Christmas, she believed anything was possible.
About Alexandra Haughton
Alexandra Haughton lives and writes in a cozy urban cottage. Contrary to popular belief, it is not wall-to-wall pink and glitter. Yet. She makes a mean chicken-fried steak and has a weakness for Italian cream cake (no nuts). When Alexandra isn’t writing contemporary romance, you can find her out and about in Dallas. Just look for the woman in a cardigan. Even if it is 103. If you want to know more, just find Alexandra on social media—she has no secrets—or subscribe to her newsletter.
Twitter: @WriterAHaughton
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Web: alexandrahaughton.com
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Love is Here to Stay in One Week in Wyoming
After the Fall in One Week in Hawaii