by Donna Alward
“I love you, Mom.”
Shelley reached for the bill. “Well, duh. Of course you do. Look, kiddo, since your dad died, I’ve watched you be afraid. It made you grow up in a hurry. You haven’t had a lot of relationships since Riley broke your trust, and I think that trust is your deal breaker. Have you told Jeremy that?”
“Not really.”
“Look, your dad set a wonderful example and standard, but you were also hurt when he left.”
“He didn’t leave us. Not like Jeremy’s dad did.”
“Not in the same way, but he left just the same. Don’t be afraid to love someone, honey. Jeremy lied to his mom. He didn’t stand up for you. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”
“He didn’t say it.”
“I know. Just give it some thought, and when you’re ready, you and Jeremy need to talk. Even if it’s just to decide what’s going to happen with visitation.”
They got up and Shelley paid the bill, and then they got on the road again. As they merged onto the highway, Tori sighed. “I keep telling myself I’m afraid he’ll use his money and power to take the baby. I feel like I need to protect myself and prepare for that possibility. And then my heart says he would never do such a thing. And I think I’m being a fool, again.”
Shelley didn’t answer, but Tori knew exactly what she would say. Sit on it. Think about it and sort through her feelings. And then talk to Jeremy.
* * *
The bar was crowded and noisy, and Jeremy could tell Bran was only going through the motions. Cole, on the other hand, was flirting with their waitress and being his charming self. And Jeremy was running around with his tail between his legs.
Still. He couldn’t mope around his apartment forever, and Bran needed to get out now and again. His possession date for the new house was the first of February; then the three of them hanging out would be a rare occasion.
Of course, Bran was going to be close to Tori. And that irritated Jeremy like a scratchy tag on the back of his neck.
“Beer, whiskey, and a rum and coke.” The waitress put their drinks on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re good for now,” Cole said, flashing her a million-dollar smile.
She smiled back and was gone with a twitch of her hip.
“Stop that,” Bran said, scowling. “You’re not twenty-five anymore, Cole.”
“What? The day I stop flirting is the day I die.”
Bran shook his head. “Yeah, but you have no follow-through. You work too much.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Listen, you two, I came out for drinks and a good time.”
Cole sipped on his rum and coke. “No, you didn’t. You came out because you’re being a sad sack since Tori went back to Canada. We don’t need to tell you how you messed that up, Jer.”
He took a big pull of his beer. “Yeah, sure. I know that.”
Bran looked at him. “When we saw you in your office that day, you looked pretty happy. She thinks you were faking it, right? That she was manipulated? But was she?”
The beer didn’t quite settle in his stomach. “Of course not. I mean, I wanted to bring her around, but damn, you know?” He scowled. “The way I sounded at my mom’s... It was like she wasn’t worth loving. I don’t blame her for being furious. Or walking away.”
Cole saluted with his glass. “Well done, dumbass.”
Bran rolled his eyes. “Jer, let me ask you this. What was the moment you first knew?”
“First knew what?”
“That you loved her.”
The table went silent.
Bran took a drink of his whiskey and pushed back his shaggy hair. “Look, when I met Becca, I didn’t love her at first. But there was a moment. It wasn’t even a big moment. She was in my place and she looked over her shoulder at me and laughed and it was just there. Bam, I love her. And I’m guessing you had that moment, because you’ve been dragging yourself around for the last five days, beating yourself up and thinking about nothing but the fact she’s gone. So when was it?”
Jeremy’s throat tightened. “When we were skating. She did this turn thing and faced me, holding my hands, and she laughed and had this weird hat on with her ponytail out the top, and it was like someone opened my heart and poured in a ray of sunshine.”
Cole swore and shook his head.
Bran wagged a finger at him. “Look, he-man. Don’t be like that just because it hasn’t happened to you.”
Then Bran turned to Jeremy. “Dude, I’m telling you right now. You’ve got to go make this right. I won’t have another chance with Becca. She’s gone, but Tori isn’t. She needs to know how you feel. You’ve got to lay it on the line, brother. You’ll regret it forever if you don’t. And she’s having your kid. If you want to have a relationship with him or her, if you want to do better than your own father did, you’ve got to step up.”
“She doesn’t want to see me.”
“Bull. I’m telling you right now, there’s no room for pride at this point. You might have to beg. But if you love her...”
“Of course I do. And my kid, too. Hearing that heartbeat...”
“Then fight for her. You didn’t do that when you had the chance, don’t you see? And if she loves you, too, that had to break her heart.”
Cole took a long drink. “As much as it pains me to say it, I agree with Dear Abby here. We were with you at school. We know you almost as well as you know yourself. You would do anything to not be your dad, and that’s great. So stop acting like him. Man, every time you go to that house you act like... I don’t know. Like she has some kind of say over your life. You’re a grown man.”
Jeremy chuckled despite the sting he felt at Cole’s words. “That’s what Tori said.”
“So quit running away and stand up to your mom instead of all that polite-distance kind of thing. And go talk to Tori. Tell her how you feel.”
“Sometimes manning up means laying your heart on the line, rather than being ‘strong,’ you know?” Bran finished his whiskey. “I’m telling you guys, I’m a freaking mess, but I wouldn’t trade any of the time I had with Bec.”
“We know, man.” Jeremy put his hand on Bran’s shoulder. “And you’re right. I just... I don’t know how to do this.”
Cole leaned forward. “I think the correct word is beg. Or maybe grovel.”
“Helpful,” Jeremy muttered. “I guess...family means everything to Tori. She loves her mom so much, and her dad died a couple years ago, and... I feel like a horrible human, not feeling that kind of connection or loyalty to my own family. Sarah excluded.”
“Hey.” Bran looked him dead in the eye. “Family is more than genetics. We learned that at Merrick.”
“Go Monarchs,” Cole and Jeremy said, lifting their glasses.
Jeremy settled back into his chair, while Cole signaled for another round. “Yeah, you’re right. You guys are my brothers.”
“And it’s our job to kick you when you’re being an idiot. So get yourself together and figure out how you’re going to get her back. It’s Christmas. A good present should come with the groveling.”
The next round of drinks appeared, and Jeremy perked up. He at least had to try. He’d been miserable the last few days. The apartment was cold and empty. He couldn’t focus. He stared endlessly at the ultrasound picture. He’d let the best thing in his life get away, because he couldn’t deal with his feelings.
And as Bran and Cole started to discuss ordering some snacks, Jeremy got the first inklings of a plan. Starting tomorrow, he’d have to get himself in gear in order to have it all set for Christmas.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHRISTMAS MORNING DAWNED bright and clear, with a pristine blue sky and a new dusting of snow that made everything look fresh and white but didn’t play havoc with road conditions. Tori had slept at her mom’s, and would s
top in at the Sandpiper later. They kept a very light staff on Christmas Day and Boxing Day, and they had minimal bookings, too. Still, essential staff were away from their loved ones on Christmas morning, so she’d arranged for them all to have breakfast midmorning. The crew would have breakfast meats and eggs cooked by Neil and his sous chefs, and she’d brought in pastries from a local bakery. She’d even made a huge bowl of fruit salad herself and left it in the massive fridge.
Now, though, at barely eight o’clock, she sat beside her mother’s decorated spruce tree, looking at the arrangement of presents beneath it.
She had a lot to be thankful for. She was healthy, her baby was healthy, she had a job she loved and a mother who doted on her. And yet the holiday felt lusterless and underwhelming. All because she couldn’t get the father of her child off her mind.
“I made you tea,” Shelley said, coming in from the kitchen. They were both dressed in fuzzy new pajamas; getting new ones on Christmas Eve had been a tradition for her when she was a kid, and in the past few years they’d taken to buying them for each other. She handed Tori the cup and sat down on a footstool nearby, cradling her own cup of coffee. “So. Have you opened your stocking?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“Let me turn on some Christmas music first.”
With the sound of carols in the background and the lights on the tree turned on, Tori reached for her stocking. Inside was her favorite chocolate, a three-pack of maternity underwear, some soft and fuzzy socks and the usual toiletries—body wash, deodorant, shampoo. There were some treats, too, like a new kind of tea and a little box of mini-facials. “Mom, this was too much.”
“Don’t be silly.” Shelley was opening her own stocking, with her favorite treats and beauty brands, as well.
There were only a few presents under the tree. Two for each of them from each other, and there was one from the staff for Tori and one from the other nurses on Shelley’s unit. Tori oohed over a new maternity outfit in the first box, and then watched as her mom opened her new pressure cooker she’d asked for. Her second gift contained a gorgeous lemon-yellow crocheted blanket.
“Oh, Mom.”
“I haven’t crocheted in years, but I figured this was as good a time as any to get out the old hook and take it up again. Do you like it?”
Tori ran her hand over the soft, fine yarn. “I love it. The baby will love it, too, because Grandma made it.”
“Merry Christmas, sweetie.”
“Open your last one, Mom.”
She handed the gift bag to her mom. Shelley reached inside and took out a small box, then opened the box and withdrew the Christmas ornament. It was a glass ball with white and gold and the word Grandma painted on it with glitter.
“Where in the world did you find this?”
“In a little shop in New York.” She had a similar ornament still tucked away in a drawer in her room. The one she’d bought for Jeremy but had forgotten to give him. She’d grabbed it at the last minute and put it in her luggage, hoping it would make the trip without breaking.
She’d been so excited that day. And that night, she and Jeremy had slept together.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She put on a smile. “Really. We’re both fine.” She put her hand on her tummy. “And hungry.”
They’d picked up the paper from their gifts and were just heading to the kitchen when there was a knock on the door.
“You expecting someone?” Tori called, as she opened the fridge door and got out eggs and ham for omelets.
When there was no answer right away, she straightened and poked her head out of the kitchen. “Who is it?”
Jeremy stepped into the entryway. “It’s me.”
She shouldn’t be so glad to see him. But she was. He was here. In Nova Scotia. In her mother’s hall. On Christmas morning.
“Hi,” she said, belatedly realizing she was dressed in penguin pajamas with slippers on her feet and her hair in a messy ponytail.
“Merry Christmas.”
It was incredibly awkward and emotionally charged. Shelley took a step back and murmured, “I’ll just go start breakfast,” while Tori and Jeremy stared at each other for a long, painful moment.
“You look wonderful,” he said, his voice soft, and she wanted to believe him so badly it hurt.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to ask for your forgiveness.” He stepped forward but only to the edge of the mat; a film of snow was on his shoes. She went to him instead, not necessarily for intimacy but more for privacy. Her mother’s house wasn’t large, and conversations were easily overheard. She laughed a little as Shelley made an inordinate amount of noise with frying pans.
“You look like your mom,” he said gently. “She frowns like you, too. Told me I’d better get it right this time.”
Tori’s cheeks heated. “Mom doesn’t mince words.”
“Neither does her daughter. And I’ve recently discovered that both of you are pretty much right.”
She didn’t want to hope. But it was Christmas. And he looked so handsome in perfectly fitted jeans and his peacoat, his hair slightly mussed and his gray eyes focused on her so intently.
His gaze swept down to her belly and back up. “You’re feeling okay?”
She nodded, her throat tightening. “Yeah, we’re both okay. The baby’s been moving around a lot.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Tori—” His voice broke off, and then he took a breath and squared his shoulders. “I went to see my mother. And I told her what I should have told her the night of the party. I told her that I love you, and I love this baby, and that I want to do right by both of you. And I owe you such a huge apology, Tori. I never showed my emotions. Not in that house, not with any of my relationships, because every time I did I got punished for it. But you invited me to. You gave me a safe place with no judgment and I used that gift to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Tori. More than you know.”
She stood there dumbly, not knowing what to say or do. It scared her how much she wanted to believe him. She’d had time to think over the past several days, and really look at what had happened. He’d hurt her terribly at the party, while she’d still been stinging from his mother’s cold reception. And she’d felt incredibly out of her depth. And no, he hadn’t told her that he loved her, but he had tried to explain and she hadn’t let him.
Because she, too, was scared. And she’d run.
“You love me?” she asked. “And the baby? Not just so that we won’t be in separate countries or living in separate homes?”
He swallowed. “I loved this baby from the moment I saw that picture on the ultrasound machine. And I think I loved you all along. But Tori, your family is here. Your job is here. I won’t ask you to leave that behind, not if you don’t want to.”
“And I will stay here, and you’ll stay...”
His gray eyes softened. “In New York. We’ll work this out on your terms, Tori. I can’t force you to forgive me, or love me. But you’re going to be a wonderful mother, and I think the best way for me to be a good dad is to make sure you’re happy.”
Her eyes stung as tears sprang into them. “But you said you love me.”
He nodded, and his eyes were bright, too. “I do. Enough to let you go, if that’s what you want.”
She caught her breath, and it sounded almost like a sob, but she wouldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t cry today. “What if that’s not what I want?”
The air between them stilled. “Then come over here and put me out of my misery.”
She took three halting steps and then threw herself into his arms. His tightened around her, holding her close, the baby sandwiched between them. “You feel good,” he whispered in her ear. “I was sure you’d tell me to walk out. Thank you for not doing that.”
“You had good reason. But, sweetheart...” His breath was warm against her ear. “I made a mistake. I didn’t stop loving you. I just was too afraid to say it. Loving people has always made me weak, so I told myself I was incapable of it.” He pushed back a little so he could look into her eyes. “Until now.”
And then he kissed her, a wild welcoming that seemed to put everything right that had gone wrong. It wasn’t the kiss of a coward or a pretender; it was the kiss of a man claiming the woman he loved. And when his hand cradled her baby bump, she closed her eyes and let the bit of gratitude that had been missing this morning trickle in.
“I hate to break up this happy reunion, but I have ham and cheese omelets and home fries for anyone who’s hungry. That includes you, Jeremy.”
He looked into Tori’s eyes. “I don’t deserve that kind of welcome,” he whispered.
“Don’t be silly. This is how family works.” She clasped his hand. “We mess up and we forgive each other. I was awfully lonely this morning, Jeremy. Wishing you were here. Wondering if I should call you and what I should say. I’d forgiven you for what happened at the party, but I was still afraid, you see.”
“You were gone about ten minutes before I started missing you,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “And my real brothers—Cole and Bran—told me I was an idiot for blowing it. It has to be love,” he continued, squeezing her fingers. “Nothing else could ever hurt me this much.”
Considering the pain he’d been through as a boy, that was saying something. And what was more, she believed him. Because the Jeremy at the party wasn’t the real Jeremy. She’d had time to think about that and realize that she’d let one five-minute conversation negate everything else between them. The Jeremy in all the other moments was the real man. And he was something special.