Chapter 1
I love you the more in that I believe
you had liked me for my own sake
and for nothing else.
—John Keats
How was it possible to forget to breathe? Emma was going to pass out if she didn’t remember to breathe. All day, she’d relived the magical few hours in the Abbotts’ den, sitting by the fire sharing confidences with the supremely handsome, sexy and successful Grayson Coleman.
Emma had told him things she’d never told another living soul, even Lucy, her sister and closest confidant.
Waiting for the clock to move forward today, Emma had expected to feel regrets, recriminations or something negative for spilling the biggest secret of her life, a nearly ten-year-old secret that involved the most precious person in the world—her daughter, Simone.
Something about the way Grayson had paid such close attention to her, listening to every word she said as if they were the most important words he’d ever heard, had her telling him things she never talked about—and rarely thought about anymore.
It had been such a long time ago, and Emma was a big believer in looking ahead rather than back.
Nothing good ever came from looking back.
The Abbotts had graciously invited her and Simone to spend the week with them so they could attend Hunter and Megan’s wedding and then have Christmas with Lucy and her fiancé, Colton, in Vermont.
And what an incredible visit it had been so far, complete with sledding and snowman building and even a ride for Simone on the back of Lucas Abbott’s snowmobile.
Her daughter would talk about this week for months.
Simone was spending today and tonight with Colton and Lucy at their home on the mountain.
She was so excited to have alone time with Auntie Lu and Uncle Colton and their dogs, Sarah and Elmer.
When she left with Lucy earlier, Emma heard her asking if they might see Fred the moose, and Lucy said you never knew when he might come by for a visit.
Emma had felt sort of aimless as she whiled away an unusually quiet afternoon at the Abbotts’ lovely restored barn. Her dad had driven home to New York that morning, Lincoln Abbott was in town at a lunch meeting, and his wife, Molly, was at their daughter Hannah’s.
Emma finally settled on the same sofa where she’d sat with Grayson last night and tried to lose herself in a book she’d been enjoying.
But her mind kept wandering to silly things—like the way the fire had turned his dark blond hair to a burnished gold, the twinkle in his eyes when he was amused, the furrow of his brow when he was concentrating or listening to her, and how he’d shown just the right amount of empathy and outrage when she told him about how Simone’s father had attacked her at the end of their relationship.
Grayson was now the only other person on earth who knew Simone had come from a violent attack.
She hadn’t even told the therapist who’d counseled her afterward about the baby.
Perhaps she should regret having shared something so deeply personal with someone she’d only just met, but they’d been wrapped up in a bubble all their own, sharing confidences, and she didn’t regret telling him.
She’d learned how he had been forced to step up for his seven younger siblings when he was sixteen, after their father left, but he spoke of his brothers and sisters only with love and affection.
None of the burden he must’ve felt at having so much responsibility at such a young age was apparent in the way he talked about them.
She’d never been as intrigued by a man as she was by him, thus the breathing trouble.
And after he asked her to have dinner with him tonight, she’d been left breathless, winded—and nervous.
Really, really nervous. She hadn’t been out on a proper date in, well…
years. Unless she counted her good friend Troy Kennedy, who’d been her plus one in the city while she served as his.
But Troy didn’t count. There’d never been anything other than platonic friendship between them, despite the desire of Lucy and their friend Cameron Abbott to see them together.
It wasn’t happening with Troy, but something had definitely happened last night with Grayson.
Emma touched her fingers to her lips, reliving the soft, sweet kiss he’d given her before suggesting they call it a night. If it’d been up to her, he’d still be here and they’d still be talking—and maybe kissing, too.
She’d been so wrapped up in taking care of Simone, working and handling all the parenting and household duties alone that there hadn’t been anyone serious since her relationship with Simone’s father ended in spectacular—and violent—fashion.
“Don’t think about that,” she whispered.
“Not today when you have a handsome guy taking you out for dinner.” Her mind wandered once again to that fleeting kiss and how it had made her yearn for so much more.
Another of her deep, dark secrets was one she hadn’t told Grayson.
She hadn’t had sex since the night she conceived Simone.
“Ugh.” She dropped her head into her hands, disgusted with herself for hiding behind the cloak of motherhood as an excuse to keep her distance from men.
One year had become two, and two became three, and three had become a decade while she was busy raising her daughter, who would be ten in February.
She hadn’t planned to put her own life on hold when she had Simone. It had just worked out that way. A single mother of a young child didn’t spend her evenings out at bars or clubs or any of the other places women her age met men.
After her sister finally accepted that Emma was never going to think of Troy in a romantic way, Lucy had urged her to try online dating.
But there was something so inherently frightening about the anonymity of the Internet, especially living as she did in New York City.
She had a child to think about, so even if the idea of meeting a guy interested her, online dating did not.
Grayson Coleman interested her.
George and Ringo jumped up from their dog beds by the fire and bolted for the kitchen. Emma heard Molly talking to the dogs, who barked happily at the return of their loved one. Molly came to find Emma a few minutes later.
“Hi there.”
“Hey. How’s Hannah?”
“Feeling ungainly, but that’s pregnancy for you.”
“I remember that stage. I could’ve been one of the hot-air balloons in the Thanksgiving parade.”
Molly laughed and threw some wood on the fire before taking a seat in an easy chair.
She put her feet up on the ottoman. The woman was a dynamo.
She’d given birth to ten children, but you’d never know it to look at her slender frame and unlined face.
The only sign of her age was the mane of gorgeous gray hair that she wore mostly in a braid, but even that did nothing to detract from her otherwise youthful appearance.
“I love the day after Christmas. Back when the kids were little, I used to take to my bed for the entire day, and one of Linc’s gifts to me was handling child care while I lolled about, being lazy.”
“That’s a brilliant idea.”
“I thought so, too, and the best part? Linc bowed down to me, every year, after one day alone with the hellions.”
Emma laughed at the picture she painted of ten unruly kids running roughshod over their dear old dad.
“Christmas is one heck of a production for the moms,” Molly said. “Still is, and my kids are all grown. But I do love having the whole family here—the noise, the presents, the bickering, the chaos. And I love today when they all go home and leave me to my wallowing.”
“Sorry to intrude on your peace and quiet.”
“Oh please! You’re no trouble at all, and Linc and I are in love with Simone. We want you to come back every year.”
“That’d be lovely. Christmas in Vermont is my new favorite thing.”
“I’m so happy to hear that. Look at this big empty barn we’re rattling around in. We’ve got plenty of room, and we’d love to have you.”
“Simone would never speak to me again if I didn’t say we’d love to.”
“Then it’s settled. Please think of our home as your home, Emma. You and Simone and your dad are family to us now that Lucy and Colton are engaged. There’ll never be a time when you won’t be welcome here.”
“That’s so nice of you. Thank you.”
“Linc and I are going to our favorite Italian place in St. Johnsbury tonight if you’d like to come along.”
“Oh, um…” She and Grayson hadn’t spoken about what, if anything, they would tell other people about their plans for the evening.
Would he not want her to tell his aunt they were going out?
She made a split-second decision. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m going to stick around here tonight and take advantage of my night off. ”
“I don’t blame you at all. There’s a huge tub in our room that you’re welcome to if you’d like to take a bath.”
“That sounds great.”
“Go ahead. Indulge. I’m going to sit right here and have a little nap until Linc gets home. Enjoy.”
“You, too.”
“Oh, I will.”
As she went upstairs, Emma decided she wanted to be Molly Abbott when she grew up.
What an amazing woman—and mother. Her kids were all great people, even the mischievous identical twins, Lucas and Landon, who’d flirted shamelessly with Emma at Will and Hunter’s weddings until Colton told them to back off or deal with him—and his ax.
They were adorable and hilarious, but far too young for her.
Their attention, however, had not been unwelcome.
It had served as a reminder that despite how she felt sometimes, she was still only twenty-nine, not sixty.
Molly had handled a wedding in her living room five days before Christmas and a mob scene for the holiday with nothing but grace and humor and mad skill that had left Emma dazzled.
It was official. Emma had a full-fledged girl crush on the woman, and being invited back for next year was the second-best thing to happen this week.