by Lizzie Shane
She’d been so scared to believe any man who claimed he loved her—especially when she was so vulnerable. Especially when she loved him, the emotion so big that it would eat her alive if she let it, consuming all her logic and making her do anything to stay with him.
Love made people stupid and she had to fight against that, didn’t she? Stay strong? For Sofie?
Her father had been sympathetic too. Always with the perfect thing to say. Or at least that was how she remembered him. This mythical figure who kept dragging them back into his net—composed more of stories and reflections of all the other Mr. Wrongs her mother had dated than of her half-formed memories of the man himself.
As if conjured by her thoughts, her mother perched on the chair beside her. “You did it,” her mother murmured.
Rachel swallowed, her gaze still on the trees. “I thought you went home.”
“There was a run on the coat check. The attendants were overwhelmed so I pitched in.”
Rachel looked over at her mother, tears pricking the back of her eyes. Her mother who was always there when she needed her. “Thank you for being here tonight.” She reached over, linking their hands. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”
Andie grimaced, lines Rachel had never noticed before creasing the edges of her eyes. “You weren’t wrong. I’m not the best judge of men. Though, for what it’s worth, I don’t think he cares about that woman. I don’t think he’s anything like your father.”
“Mom. You saw…”
“I did. And I’m not saying he wasn’t an idiot. But I also saw the look on his face when you walked away. Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you weren’t just looking for any reason to run because you were scared?”
“And if I was?” Rachel snapped, defensiveness making her voice sharp. “Can you blame me?”
“No,” Andie murmured after a silent moment. “But I can blame myself.”
“Mom.” She shook her head.
“They say children learn about relationships from the examples in their lives, they learn what love is by example, but I always thought I could protect you from my mistakes. That they wouldn’t touch you. That you would grow up to be nothing like me when it came to love.”
“I did,” Rachel reminded her. Her mother was too trusting, so she didn’t trust. Her mother threw herself into emotion, so she held herself back.
“Did you?” her mother asked—not trying to make a point, but genuinely asking. “I let fear control me—fear of losing your father, fear of being alone. So much fear. Are you sure you aren’t doing the same thing?”
Rachel tried to dismiss the idea as ridiculous. She was nothing like her mother. She was the practical one. The emotionless one. But tonight had she been driven by cool, calm reason? Or had she been falling apart in an icy hotel hallway? Had she been as foolish as she’d always silently judged her mother for being? Letting her emotions kick her brain out of the driver’s seat?
“I want to believe him,” she whispered. “I want to trust him, but how do I do that when everything practical and logical in me is saying I shouldn’t?”
“What’s your heart saying?”
It was instinctive to reject the words. It didn’t matter what her heart wanted. Love didn’t conquer all. No one rode off into the sunset to live happily ever after. There were no Christmas miracles. Her mother put her faith in that crap and it never worked out. How many times had she seen that? How was she supposed to ignore the evidence of a lifetime?
“He’s still Sofie’s father,” her mother murmured when the silence had gone on too long.
“I’m not going to keep him from Sofie.” But she had to be smart for Sofie. Strong for her. She wanted her baby to grow up safe and confident. Secure that she was loved and—
And not afraid of her own heart.
Tears pressed against the back of Rachel’s eyes. She didn’t want Sofie to be anything like her. Too scared of being hurt to let herself fall.
Someone hit the lights and suddenly the ballroom went dim, lit only by the glow of the perfect gold and white Christmas trees. They were flawless. Each ornament in place. And she hated them.
Cam had moved the ornaments on her tree at home. Messing with her. Teasing her about trying to make everything too perfect—but when she looked at those lopsided ornaments, she didn’t see imperfection. She just saw him.
She’d been trying to protect herself from the messy parts of life, from the chaos she’d always ascribed to her mother’s irresponsibility, but her mother had only hurt herself. Rachel had hurt a good man.
And he was a good man. She knew that. She trusted that.
She turned to her mother, horror washing through her. “Did I just ruin everything?”
Andie squeezed her hand. “I saw him go out on the balcony earlier. Start by groveling. It really does help.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
There was a certain symmetry to ending up on the balcony. Their relationship had started on the balcony of a hotel ballroom after a fundraiser. It was only fitting that it should end on one. Everything came full circle.
Though this time instead of sharing a bottle of champagne he’d finagled from the open bar, he was alone, drinking the scotch he’d dropped two-hundred dollars on in the silent auction. And instead of an unusually warm September night, he was freezing his ass off, watching the heavy clouds that had blocked out the moon and waiting for it to snow.
Still. Symmetry. You had to appreciate that shit.
Life had a way of repeating itself.
He went after something he wanted, and the second he actually let himself believe he could get it, the second he got comfortable, the universe yanked it away. That was why he could never make himself trust that he was going to get another game, let alone another season.
When he’d been yanked from the State Championship team, after his coaches had sworn that reliability mattered more than talent, he’d begged for that spot, pleading with them to reconsider.
When she’d broken up with him via a freaking text message, he’d left countless messages, asking for an explanation. Pleading.
He wasn’t begging again.
Cam stared into the depths of his whiskey glass, seeing the truth in the amber liquid. She was never going to trust him. It didn’t matter what he did. And the sooner he got that through his thick head, the sooner he could focus on being Sofie’s dad.
She wouldn’t cut him off from Sofie. But would he be able to see her without wanting her? How were they supposed to get through the holidays?
Maybe he could explain. Beg her to believe him. It probably wouldn’t work, but what was the point of dignity anyway?
“Are you wallowing?”
Cam jerked at the sharp female voice behind him, putting his back to the railing to face his sister. “What are you doing here?”
Carly ignored the distinct lack of welcome in his voice, crossing the balcony toward him and tugging her shawl tight around her. “Eddie and I were taking advantage of the kidless time for some bathroom sex—”
He cringed. “Thank you for that image. If you’ll excuse me, I need to bleach my brain.”
“And when we finally made it up to the parking lot, we saw your car.” She bumped his elbow with hers. “I got worried. And obviously I was right. Since I’m always right.”
“Lucky you.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” When he didn’t immediately spill his guts, she propped herself against the railing at his side, settling in. “I assume it’s Rachel?”
“She accused me of lying again. Of getting back with Erika.” He lifted his glass for another gulp of scotch. He was way beyond sipping. “I am so goddamn sick of wanting things that get snatched away. You guys keep pushing me to go after what I want and be honest about what I want and you know what happens when I do? I get kicked in the fucking teeth.”
“Yes, your life is hard.” Carly sighed dramatically. “When
do you play the Yankees again?”
“I worked my ass off for my career,” he snapped and his sister nodded.
“I know. And yet you’re still terrified you don’t deserve it.”
“It’s not about deserving it. I have to keep up the act. The second you let someone see something real, the second you’re vulnerable, that’s when the whole thing blows up in your face,” he argued. “Just like this. Everyone says I’m the golden child, that I’m this eligible bachelor, but my wife left me the second she found out she had cancer—it was her wake-up call and what she woke up to was that she had never loved me.”
“To be fair, I’m not sure you ever loved her like that either.”
He spoke over her. “And now today I tell Rachel that I love her and within twenty-four hours she’s gone. Just like last time. Did I tell you that? That I told her I loved her the morning before she dumped me two years ago too. How messed up is that? Everyone says I’m such a catch. Such a nice guy. Well, nice guys finish last.” He toasted her with his drink and she took it out of his hand.
“That’s bullshit.” She downed the last swallow of scotch in the glass. “Any guy who says nice guys finish last is almost assuredly using it as an excuse to act like a dick.”
“Excuse me?”
“Of course she assumed the worst. You’ve seen the baggage she’s lugging around. That is a steamer case of issues. Did you think that saying you love her and waving your magic penis at her was going to make them all go away?”
“Please never mention my penis again.”
“I saw you flirting with Erika and I have to say, even I wondered if there were some old sparks at play there—”
“I. Wasn’t. Flirting. We were just dancing—”
“During the bidding, dumbass. You were practically winking at her every time she bid. And then she got up on stage and everyone started chanting for a kiss and you could have stopped it. You could have gotten down off that stage, but you were enjoying the moment.”
He turned to face the railing, gripping it and staring blindly at the city. “It wasn’t romantic. It’s not like that.”
“I know that. But I’ve known you forever. Literally since you were a squalling brat. Ugliest baby on the planet. But Rachel hasn’t. She’s known you what? Six weeks total over the course of two plus years? You should have seen her face, Cam. When you and Erika were up on that stage. Did you even look at her?”
Shame whispered through him. He hadn’t. And he had been having fun, enjoying the moment. All those people bidding on him.
“Did you ever even talk to her about the future?” Carly asked.
“She just came back into my life. I thought there’d be time to figure out the future later.”
“Sounds like a good way to end up with two different ideas of what the future should be. And how’d that work out with Erika, again?” she asked sweetly.
“This isn’t about Erika.”
“No. It’s about Rachel. And that girl is a planner. I bet she has five-year plans and five-month plans and even five-day plans. And if you haven’t talked to her about making a plan together, how is she going to know that’s what you want?”
Cam stared out at the city. Carly wasn’t wrong, no matter how much he might want her to be. He’d been doing exactly what he did the first time with Rachel—focusing so hard on making her love him so she wouldn’t want to leave without telling her that he wanted her to stay. But last time she’d left anyway. She’d jumped to conclusions and shut him out.
“She’ll never trust me,” he said, the words defensive. “I can’t make her love me.”
“True. But I don’t think that’s the problem.” Carly rolled the empty scotch glass between her hands. “I will deny this if you ever repeat it, but you’re a pretty damn lovable guy. And I’m pretty sure she’s freaking nuts about you—which probably scares her even more than it scares you. Give her time. Have a little faith in her. It’s not always about you and your delicate male ego.”
“Thank you for that beautiful speech,” he said dryly, but her words were whispering around in his brain, reshaping the night.
“What can I say? I’m like a walking cheesy Christmas movie.” She shoved away from the railing. “Come on. My poor sex-exhausted husband has probably fallen asleep waiting for us inside. Let me wake him up and then I’ll drive you home.” His sister, the world’s horniest Christmas elf.
Cam didn’t move. “I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah, yeah. You had me at hello and all that shit.”
“But, really, you can stop telling me about your sex life anytime.”
Carly laughed. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She opened the door and Eddie looked up from his phone. “All done?” he asked—and Cam tried very hard not to think about what his sister and brother-in-law had or hadn’t done in the bathroom earlier.
“You bet,” Carly announced. “I was brilliant.”
Cam snorted, still leaning against the railing. “I might just get a room down here. Head home tomorrow.”
Carly opened her mouth to argue—then her gaze slid to the side and she did the unprecedented thing of shutting up, so Cam had subconsciously already braced himself when Rachel appeared in the doorway holding a bottle of champagne.
“Hey.” Her expression cautious, she lifted the bottle. “I brought a peace offering.”
His heart wanted to leap toward her, but he stamped it down, gripping the railing behind him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stepping out onto the balcony. “I know it seemed like I didn’t trust you, but it was me I didn’t trust. I’ve never wanted to fall in love. It always seemed like an excuse to behave stupidly and I wanted to be smarter than that. You made me feel stupid—because I loved you.” She glanced down, biting her lip, and when she raised her eyes, his heart stopped. “I love you. You screw up my Christmas tree and complicate my life, but I love you, Cam. I can’t imagine a perfect Christmas without you.”
He was frozen, waiting for the but when she went on. “It was never about your ex, but when you kissed her—”
“I’m sorry.” Suddenly the words rushed out. “I was an ass, playing it up for the crowd—”
“I told you to.”
“We have no feelings for one another. Not like that,” he swore. “She bought the date for us. So we could go on it together. As a way of thanking me for supporting her when she was sick and supporting Russell House at the same time.”
Rachel’s eyes rounded. “She did?”
“We’re just friends now. I swear.” He pushed away from the railing, closing the distance between them. It had started snowing but he was barely aware of the flakes melting on his skin. “Anything romantic between us was over a long time ago. You’re it for me, Rache.”
“You’re it for me too,” she whispered, the words choking. And then she was in his arms, squeezing him tight, holding on for dear life. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, her voice muffled by his coat as she pressed her face into his shoulder. “I was scared to want anyone as much as I wanted you. I thought you’d have this mystical power over me if I let myself love you and I was terrified to trust anyone that much. To need you more than I need my good sense or self-respect. I was looking for any excuse to run, to save myself—but I don’t want to run. I don’t want to lose you.”
Relief shattered him as he cupped her face. “You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere. I told myself I wasn’t going to beg, but I wouldn’t have lasted one day. I need you too much. I want us. You and me and Sofie.” He brushed his thumb along the silky softness of her cheek. “I love you, Rachel. Do you believe me when I say that?”
“I’m learning to.” Her eyes glistened, tears mixing with the snowflakes melting on her cheeks. And then—finally—he kissed her.
It was a Christmas miracle—the taste and feel of her in his arms, the feeling that she wasn’t going anywhere, that this thing between them would onl
y continue to grow. He could have stayed there kissing her on the balcony all night if it hadn’t been for the cold and the snow.
And his sister.
“That is so stinkin’ cute. How come you never profess your undying love to me anymore, Eddie?”
Cam broke the kiss, glowering over Rachel’s shoulder at his sister. “Did you seriously just stand there watching all that?”
“You bet. All we needed was a little popcorn and it would have been better than a rom-com. Just wait, when you have as many kids as we do, you gotta take your chances for date night wherever you can. Hotel bathrooms…”
“Stop. Please. There isn’t enough brain bleach in the world to make me want to hear the rest of that sentence.”
“See you Christmas morning, Rachel!” Carly called as Eddie half-dragged her inside, the door slamming shut behind them.
Cam returned his full attention to the woman in his arms. “I’ve heard worse ideas,” he murmured.
“Christmas morning?”
“That. And half a dozen kids running around. I was thinking we should start making plans.”
“For half a dozen kids? I was thinking more like four.”
He grinned. “Yeah?”
“Though we’ll need a nanny since I’m not giving up event planning. Maybe we can hire my mom full time.”
He grinned. “I like that plan.”
Her eyebrows arched. “I thought you were anti-plan.”
“I love your plans.” He couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather make plans with. “They’re one of my favorite things about you. I just don’t want you to miss the scenery along the way.”
She eyed him up and down. “It is pretty decent scenery.”
“Pretty decent?”
She shrugged, her lips twitching. “Tolerable.”
“Tolerable?”
“Moderately appealing.”
She shrieked out a laugh as he swept her up into his arms, carrying her toward the door. “I’ll show you tolerable.”
The champagne bottle she still clutched in one hand bounced against his back. “Where are we going?”