28. Sean
TWENTY-EIGHT
SEAN
We stayed up late looking at her photography work, and I enjoyed the spark that entered her eyes when she told me about trips she’d taken before the kids, anecdotes about certain shots, the soft smile that tugged at her lips when she lingered on a favorite photo. She was proud of her work, and she had good reason to be.
We ate again after that, then cleaned up the kitchen and went upstairs. I made love to her in her bed, intoxicated by the smell and feel and taste of her.
Afterward, when we were lying in a tangle, I stroked her skin and let out a long breath.
“Finally worn out, huh?”
I huffed. “I was just thinking about how different this year’s holidays were from every other year.”
“Because of the move?”
I glanced down at her. “Because of you, Lizzie.”
She swallowed, blinking. “What do you mean?”
“Do you remember my dad?”
Her eyes flicked between mine, and she tilted her head back and forth. “Vaguely. He wasn’t around much, was he?”
“He left when I was fourteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We were better off. He drank a lot. And it always got bad at Christmas.”
Lizzie was quiet, but it wasn’t the tense, expectant silence of discomfort. She was patient and open, waiting for me to share. This was her magic: it was the quiet peace of her presence, the balm that she smoothed over everyone’s wounds without them even noticing. I felt a swell of emotion for her, and a desire to protect and cherish her. I wanted to know her—and for her to know me.
“Most of what I remember from early Christmases was tiptoeing around my dad,” I admitted. “Mom would be stressed and Dad would find any excuse to nitpick and poke at her. There would inevitably be screaming matches. My mom would cry. It wasn’t a happy time.”
“And that’s why you don’t care for Christmas?”
“Among other reasons.” I gave her a tight smile, and she moved her hand to stroke my chest, my shoulder. Her fingers were like little fluttering butterflies over my skin, and I relaxed into the pillows, the scent of her all around me. My eyes closed as I enjoyed her touch.
“Your mom passed away around this time of year,” Lizzie said. “That was so hard.”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I replied, and it came out as a croak.
“It’s no wonder you let your ex-wife get Christmas. You probably like to have the time to yourself.”
My throat was tight. I ran my hand up and down her side, stroking her skin like it would heal the hurt in my heart just by touching her. “I’m starting to wonder if that was a bad idea. Mikey asked me to spend Christmas together.”
“Oh.”
My lips turned down. “Sometimes I wonder if Melody cheated at her office Christmas party just to twist the knife a little bit more. She knew everything I’d been through, knew how I felt about this time of year. But then again, maybe I’m the one who withdrew.”
“That’s understandable.”
“You’re too nice, Lizzie.” I stroked her back, letting my fingers run up beneath her hair to tease her nape. “All this stuff is supposed to scare you away from me.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Well, I absolutely love the holidays, so this could be a problem long-term.”
I huffed a laugh and shook my head. “This year felt different. Lighter.”
She licked her lips and swallowed thickly, then inhaled. I could tell she was bracing herself to ask something, so I stayed quiet. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady. “Do you think this”—her fingers flicked between us—“was a result of all these feelings you’re having? They just bubbled over and kind of…landed on me?”
“No.”
Her brow arched. “No? Not even going to consider it?”
“What, like me wanting to be with you is some sort of overcorrection?”
“You just said that I’ve made you feel good around the holidays for the first time in…”
“Since I can remember.”
“Right. So maybe how you feel about me is getting inflated.”
“Why do you do that?” I frowned.
For the first time since we’d started talking, Lizzie stiffened against me. “Do what?”
“It’s like you don’t believe that I might actually like you.”
Her cheeks flushed as her eyes slid to the side. “I just… I’ve spent a long time feeling invisible. You’ve caught me by surprise, is all.”
“You find it hard to believe that I’d want to be with you?”
Her flush deepened. “Sean, I—” She sucked in a hard breath. “Yes, okay? Yes, I find it hard to believe. I’ve spent more than a decade feeling like nothing more than a mother and a maid. And now this incredibly hot man is telling me I’m the best thing since sliced bread? Come on.”
I flipped her onto her back and propped myself on top of her, using the tips of my fingers to push her hair off her temple. “What’s it going to take for you to believe me, Lizzie?”
She let out a breath. “Look, just like you have these deep-seated feelings about the holidays, I have some insecurities about myself. Those things don’t just go away within the space of a few hours.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I responded by pressing a kiss to her lips. Her arms slid across my shoulders and around my neck, and I sank down against the heat and softness of her. She relaxed beneath me, and we shifted against each other so that our bodies were slotted against each other and nestled in the comfort of her pillows and blankets. I hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long, long time.
We were too tired to make love again, but it didn’t stop me from kissing and stroking and cuddling her until we both fell asleep. When I woke up, our bodies were tangled together like we’d spent the whole night not wanting to miss a second of each other.
Lizzie nuzzled into me as she woke, then stretched against me so all my favorite parts of her rubbed up against me. I never wanted to wake up any other way again.
“Morning,” she said, drowsy and smiling. “You’re still here.”
A dart of annoyance speared me. When would she really believe that I wanted to be here? “Did you think I’d disappear?”
“I thought it might’ve been a fever dream.”
I huffed a laugh, then curled my body around hers. “It wasn’t.”
She shook her head, then glanced over her shoulder. She bit her bottom lip, let it slide out, then said, “This doesn’t feel like a one-time thing.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed.
“So we’ll have to tell people.”
“Doesn’t sound like you want to.”
“Maybe it would be better to wait until after the holidays?”
I let my hand drift over her breast and nuzzled into her hair. “Is that what you’d prefer?”
“I just think it might be a lot for my family to take. And the holidays are so chaotic to begin with.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t able to ignore the sting of her words. I understood, but it felt similar to the way Melody used to brush me off and tell me she didn’t want me at her work events. Like I was something to be hidden away instead of shown off.
But this was different, and I knew Lizzie was right. It was a delicate situation, and we didn’t need to rush. We had an easy breakfast and then said our goodbyes, and I headed over to Aaron’s house to pick Mikey up from his sleepover.
Emily opened the door and smiled at me, her eyes sparkling. “Good night?”
“Can’t complain,” I replied, knowing she thought I’d spent it with Cindy. “How were the boys?”
“They’re great. Built another LEGO project last night, watched a movie, and had spaghetti for dinner. They’re in the basement now. I’ll go grab Mikey if you want to say hi to Aaron?”
“Sure,” I answered, and made my way to the kitchen where she gestured.
My oldest friend was sitting in the breakfast nook with a cup of coffee. He leaned back in his chair when he saw me, grinning. “Success?”
I shrugged. “Mikey behave himself?”
“You know he did,” Aaron said. “Now come on. How was she?”
My throat tightened. I didn’t want to lie to him. Aaron had been there for me through my father’s drinking and my mother’s illness. When my marriage fell apart, he was the one I called. For decades, he and his family had been a constant in my life. I’d moved my son—my whole life—back to this town to be closer to him.
And now I was lying to him.
It wasn’t that I regretted what had happened last night. Lizzie was something special, and I was beginning to realize that my feelings ran a lot deeper than even I’d anticipated. It wasn’t just lust. I was intrigued by her. Captivated.
But Aaron was my best friend.
I gulped. “Cindy was nice. We went to the gallery, had dinner, and then parted ways.”
Aaron’s brows jumped. “That’s it?”
I poured myself a cup of coffee and avoided his gaze. “That’s it,” I confirmed, which wasn’t technically a lie but still felt like one.
Leaning against the counter, I sipped my coffee and searched for the right words. The problem was, I didn’t know what I wanted to say.
“Hey, my parents are hosting Christmas this year,” Aaron said, pushing his chair back as he got up. He topped his own coffee up and leaned against the counter opposite me. “They asked me to invite you and Mikey.”
“Mikey’ll be with his mom,” I said.
“Just you then.”
My ribs tightened around my lungs. I dipped my chin. “I appreciate that. You and your family have always been welcoming to me. I hope you know how much it means to me.”
Aaron gave me a confused smile. “You’re my best friend. How else would I treat you? Besides, my mom basically told me she’d disown me if I didn’t invite you over. She said your aunts are welcome too, in case that stopped you from spending the day with us.”
The tightness in my chest expanded to my throat and stomach. I’d gone about this all wrong. Whatever my feelings for Lizzie, I shouldn’t have acted on them without talking to Aaron. But there’d been no stopping last night. Not when I’d finally admitted to myself just how much I wanted her.
Had I made a mistake? If things ended between me and Lizzie, I’d have to spend holidays and social gatherings with her and her family, knowing that she was the first woman in years to make me feel whole.
I was torn between my friendship with Aaron and my growing feelings for Lizzie. It felt selfish to put a woman ahead of my oldest friendship. It felt like a betrayal, and I hated myself for it.
“You okay?” Aaron frowned at me. “If you don’t want to come over for the holiday, you can just say so. I know it’s a tough time of year for you. I just figured you might want a distraction.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that.”
“No?”
I huffed. “Honestly, Christmas hasn’t felt so bad this year. I even found myself humming along to ‘Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ on the radio yesterday.”
Aaron laughed. “Wow. Christmas music used to send you into a rage.”
It did—before Lizzie. Before her flushed cheeks and her sunny smile. Before she showed me how good it could feel to create memories with my son. With her, and her kids, and her family.
But could I put a few weeks of intense emotion ahead of a friendship that had lasted decades? What if I jeopardized my relationship with Aaron for something so new?
“I’ll talk to my aunts. We’d planned a big meal for when Mikey’s back from his mom’s, so I don’t know if they’re doing anything the day of.”
“Let me know. My mom’s already got your gift.”
Gifts . Oh, God. I was so used to spending the holiday alone that I hadn’t considered the fact that a community and circle of friends would require me to shop for presents. The sheer panic must have shown on my face, because Aaron began to laugh.
“Get my dad a nice bottle of Scotch and my mom a scarf or some fancy soap. It’ll be more than enough.”
“Right.” I gulped. “Right, yeah. I just—I haven’t done the whole holiday thing in a while.”
“Well, you’ve got four days. Plenty of time.”
I shoved my hand through my hair and was grateful for Lizzie’s foresight. She was right to delay any big decisions or announcements about us until after the holidays. A lot had happened in a short period of time, and I owed it to her—and to Aaron and his family—not to mess this all up.
The sound of footsteps pounding up the basement steps alerted me to my son’s arrival. He was bright-eyed and messy-haired, with a face-splitting grin on his lips. “Dad! Levi said he’d let me build one of his Star Wars LEGO sets as long as I did it here. Can I?”
“Sure,” I said, glancing at Aaron, who shrugged and nodded. “But we might have to wait until you get back from seeing your mom.”
Mikey’s shoulders dropped. “What if I want to stay here?”
His words caused a pinch in my chest, but I forced a patient smile onto my face. “Your mom has a nice week planned for you, buddy. She’s taking you skiing, remember?”
A pout pushed out my son’s bottom lip. “O-kay,” he said, like a ski holiday in Tahoe was the chore of the century. I huffed a laugh. I ruffled his hair, thanked Aaron and his family for taking care of him, and then loaded him up into my truck. As Mikey got settled in his seat, I waved at Aaron and watched my best friend close his front door.
Was I really ready to risk his friendship and support for a woman who had meant next to nothing to me just over a month ago?