Alex nodded. “There’s only a few days of school left before the Christmas break. I don’t want her to miss them.” She grimaced. “It’s best if she goes and gets back to her busy little schedule.”
I swallowed the thick feeling in my throat. “She’ll be all right?”
“She’ll be fine. We all will be.”
I was surprised at how those simple words stung.
“I didn’t mean to upset her . . . to upset any of you.”
“She gets attached. I had hoped to ease her into your leaving.” She wrung her hands. “I’ll be having a long talk with Seth tonight—this is odd behavior for him, but I suppose he got attached too.”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’m sorry, Alex.”
“It’s not your problem. I should have known better.”
I frowned, unsure what she meant. Before I could ask, though, she spoke again.
“Your car will be here at ten.” She glanced over to the bed, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m impressed, Dylan. You packed yourself.”
I knew she was trying to lighten the atmosphere. I glared at her. “I am a grown man and quite capable of packing myself, Alex.”
With a wry grin, she bent down and picked up the boots and my sleep pants from the floor. “Not very well. It all needs to go in the case.”
We both chuckled.
I stepped forward. “Alex . . .”
She held up her hand. “Don’t say anything, Dylan. We said it all. These past days have been wonderful, for both of us, but it’s time to get back to reality.”
She laid the envelope on the bed. “George asked me to give this to you. He signed your offer.” Her voice dropped. “Congratulations—you got what you came for. You now own the Sleepy Moose Inn and the Ocean Bluff Resort.”
I had no idea how to respond.
She changed her voice, forcing a lighter tone. “I bet you never thought you’d see those words in your portfolio.”
I had to admit she was correct. But this inn had unexpectedly become my most prized piece of property. I had to ask her. “Do you hate me for that?”
She looked startled. “No. It had to be sold—I’m glad you bought it. You’ll make it into a lovely place. I’m sure of it.”
“I will. I’ll protect the land. I promise.”
“Then it’s all good.” She indicated the door. “I have to go and help Susan. We’re going to shut down most of the rooms for the season.” A sad smile flitted across her face. “For good, I suppose.”
“Can I see you if I come back to town?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Dylan. I expect we’ll bump into each other, but we need to let personal things go.”
Pain lanced through my body, and I steadied my suddenly shaky limbs by leaning on the table. I was being insane. It was every man’s dream—snowed in with a sexy woman, amazing sex, and being able to walk away with no strings and return to his life with nothing but great memories.
A dream for most, yet for me, it felt like a nightmare.
“Will you come say goodbye?”
She shook her head, a small crack appearing in her carefully controlled façade. “No. We said our goodbyes already.”
She held out her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. I wish you much luck in the future.”
I stared at her hand before wrapping mine around it, shaking it gently. It took everything in me not to pull her into my arms one last time, but I knew she didn’t want that. Our time was done. “I hope the future is good to you, Alex.”
She bit her lip, straightened her shoulders, and smiled. “Don’t be late for your car. I went to a lot of trouble to get you something other than a minivan.” Turning abruptly, she walked away from me.
The quiet click of the door shutting echoed in my head long after she left.
A TOWN CAR PULLED UP in front of the inn. The lobby was deserted. No guests were expected—Alex explained they shut down between now and the end of January. Usually, they took that time to make repairs and reorganize for the upcoming season. I wondered what she would be doing this year. Then, I realized she would be looking for a job and a new place to live. My stomach tightened, and my fists clenched at my sides at the thought of her having to do either.
I wanted her to be the last thing I saw before I left. I wanted to hold her, to taste her, to commit her to memory.
But that wasn’t going to happen. I grabbed my luggage and walked out the door to the waiting car. I waved off the driver, tossing my bags in the back seat and climbing in.
He put the car in gear, the tires hesitating on the icy surface, then we began to move. A noise caught my ears and I turned, shocked to see Alex behind the car, waving frantically, crying out my name.
“Stop!” I yelled, already reaching for the door.
I was out of the car, running to her, gathering her up in my arms, holding her tight. I felt the tremble in her body, and I opened my coat, wrapping her up in the warmth.
For a moment, the ache left my chest and my tension eased.
She tilted up her head. “I had to say goodbye, Dylan. I had to thank you.”
“For what?” I studied her face, even as the tension crept back. Her lovely, sweet face I never wanted to forget, because she was still saying goodbye.
“These past few days, you made me remember what it was like to be Alex—to feel something other than worry and duty. You gave me a great gift. I don’t want you to think I regretted it. I don’t—not a single second.”
Leaning up, she offered her mouth, and I took it, kissing her with everything I had—claiming her mouth, claiming her. I poured every good feeling, smile, and touch we shared into that kiss. I kissed her until the brief honk of the car horn reminded me I had to get on the road or I would miss my plane. Reluctantly, I released her, setting her on her feet, dropping one last, lingering kiss to her mouth. I held her chin in my hand, looking into her eyes.
“You’re the one who gave me the gift, Alex. And I’ll never forget it, or you.”
“Be happy, Dylan.”
I squeezed her hand. “Be well, my darling girl.”
I held her close one last time, then strode back to the car. Slamming the door behind me, in a gruff voice, I informed the driver we could go.
I didn’t look back.
I didn’t know how to cope with the feeling of emptiness and that I was leaving something important behind.
“Amy!” I hollered, slamming down my coffee mug.
My door opened and she crept in, already looking scared. She should be. I was gone days, not weeks, and she’d messed up my coffee every single time since I came back, as if she’d forgotten. How fucking difficult was it to make a cup of coffee?
I pushed my mug toward the edge of the desk. “Get me another one, and for God’s sake, get it right or you’re fired.”
Arlene walked in, breezing past Amy, who was frozen, her mouth agape. Arlene came to my desk, lifted my mug, and took a sip. She turned to Amy. “It’s fine. Go back to your desk.”
Amy scurried out, shutting the door too loudly for my liking. I slammed down my hand on the wooden surface, glaring at Arlene. “Don’t be overriding my authority with my staff. You don’t even work here anymore!”
“Stop taking out your bad mood on the poor girl. And I do still work here until the end of the year.”
I flicked my hand at the door. “Consider it an early Christmas gift. Go home. Send that useless girl away too.”
Arlene laughed and sat down, swinging her leg. “And leave you alone without an assistant? I don’t think so.”
“I’m better off on my own than with the likes of her.”
She huffed, not put out at all by my temper. “Shut up, Dylan, and drink your coffee.”
“It’s shit.”
“It’s exactly the way you like it.”
I wanted to growl at her—it wasn’t. Alex hadn’t made it. She hadn’t handed it to me with one of her warm smiles. It didn’t have a sprinkling of su
gar snuck into it. I knew Alex did that, and I liked how it tasted. But I couldn’t get the amount right no matter how many times I tried with the sugar I had hidden in my top drawer—that was how I liked my coffee. I couldn’t tell Arlene that, though. Instead, I glowered and sipped the brew.
“Have you slept at all since coming back?” she queried.
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
“You keep telling yourself that.”
“Drop it.”
I had barely slept since returning to Toronto. Instead, I wandered my condo, finding the noise of the city too much to process and my bed too big and cold. My thoughts drifted to Alex constantly. I wondered what she was doing. If she was okay. I worried about Noelle and if she was still upset. If she still wore her slippers every day. If Seth still hated me for leaving. I worried about their future.
I missed them all, and I wondered if they missed me.
“Did you keep the appointment I made for you with the doctor?”
I snorted. “Fat lot of good it did me, but yes. I don’t know why I’m paying so much for private care. I need to find a new one.”
“Oh?”
“He did a bunch of tests and said I was fine.” I rubbed my chest. “It’s still aching.”
She pursed her lips. “He had nothing to offer?”
I grunted. “A bunch of BS that sometimes physical symptoms have more to do with stress in our lives and emotions we’re not dealing with, rather than being ill.”
Sarcasm laced her voice. “You’re right—a total quack. You need to find someone to perform unnecessary open-heart surgery instead of good, common sense.”
I glowered at her.
“I can’t find my gray sweatshirt—the one you gave me last year with those hideous sleep pants,” I blurted out, wanting to change the subject.
She blinked at me. “I don’t have it, Dylan. When was the last time you saw it?”
I couldn’t remember, or figure out why it was so important. I had even torn apart my place last night looking for it. I shrugged.
“Did you take it to Nova Scotia with you?”
The sudden memory of tugging my shirt over Alex’s head after our steamy shower hit me. She had my shirt.
My breath caught.
Had she tossed it? Was she wearing it? Did she think of me?
I had kept what happened between Alex and me to myself, so I couldn’t tell Arlene any of that. But now I knew where my sweatshirt was.
“Maybe.” I shrugged noncommittally. “Doesn’t really matter.”
I wondered if it was keeping her warm. I wanted it to keep her warm. I ignored the fact that what I really wanted was to be the one to keep her warm.
“We’re going shopping,” Arlene announced, startling me from my thoughts.
“No, we aren’t.”
“Yes, we are. You need to pick out your gifts for my grandkids. And something for Amy.”
“Give them a gift card this year. They can pick out their own gift.” I tilted my chin to the door. “She’s getting a pink slip. I’ll add a bow.”
She stood and leaned over the desk, her face serious. “You are going to ditch the Grinch attitude, damn well plaster a smile on your face, and we are going shopping. Do you understand me, Dylan?”
I knew that look. If I pushed her any further, I was going to find myself at the receiving end of a lecture I would never forget.
“I have a meeting,” I protested lamely.
“Which I switched until tomorrow. We’re going shopping, and that is final.”
I stood and grabbed my coat. “Fine. Maybe I can find a fucking Starbucks to make me a decent coffee.”
She chuckled as she followed me. “I doubt that.”
I hated shopping. I hated it during every other time of year. But at Christmas? God, I hated it even more. The stores were full of too many bodies, crying children, and stressed-out parents dragging them around. People frantically grabbing gifts they probably couldn’t afford, desperate to complete their lists and get out of the box-like-hell they called the mall.
Dutifully, I followed Arlene around the toy store, while she showed me some options for her grandkids. I pointed to the items I preferred, and she set them in the cart. As we rounded the corner, I knocked an item off the shelf, grabbing it before it hit the floor. I stared down at the fluffy kitten that started meowing out some silly song. Instantly, my mind went to Noelle. She would love that. I could see her meowing along with the cat as she hugged it, running up and down the halls in her fuzzy slippers, smiling her wide, toothless grin.
“Dylan?” Arlene’s voice was quiet, gentle. “Did you want to buy that?”
I glanced up and nodded. She took the box from my hands and set it in the cart. “Anything else?”
I looked around and allowed myself to think of Alex, Seth, and Noelle, my entire body aching with sadness as their faces filled my mind. Alex refused to let me help them, but she couldn’t refuse Christmas gifts.
“Can we get a box of gifts to Nova Scotia before Christmas?”
“Yes, if I charter Roger and the private plane.”
“Then, yes, Arlene, there’re lots of things I want to buy.”
She beamed at me. “I thought so.”
Four hours later, the back of her car was full and so was the trunk. All the gifts were gift-wrapped with name tags and decked out with bows and ribbons. There were toys and clothes for Seth and Noelle, a warm, deep green coat Arlene helped me pick out for Alex, along with a pretty scarf and gloves in the softest leather I could find. I found some books and movies I knew she would enjoy. There was candy and chocolate, and I even remembered a box of cigars for George, like the ones I had noticed on his desk.
“My ‘treat’ on occasion,” he had informed me. Then he had winked. “When Alex allows it.” We had both laughed.
There was also a delicate gold necklace, adorned with a wide-eyed owl set with emeralds and tiny diamonds that I had seen in the jeweler’s window as I went past. I kept going back, and finally, went in and bought it. I wrote a note to Alex and asked her to keep it for Noelle when she was older. She might not remember me, but I would remember my Little Owl for the rest of my life, and I wanted her to have it. It was her “birfday,” after all.
I sat back, sipping a brandy, as Arlene groaned.
“For someone who didn’t want to go shopping, you certainly changed your mind.” She smirked, rubbing her calf.
I shrugged. “Alex and her family don’t have much. If I can make their Christmas a good one, at least a little better than usual, I’ll feel I’ve done something right for a change when it comes to them.”
She leaned back, picking up her glass of wine. She took a sip, regarding me over the rim. “You feel guilty,” she said.
“I’m taking their home.”
“It was going to happen anyway.”
I shrugged. “Regardless.”
“Is it possible, Dylan, there’s more to this than you’re saying?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Do you know how often you’ve spoken of them since you came back?”
“I spent some time with them. It’s fresh. That’s all.”
“Hmmm. Did you know the last deal you did, a dozen families lost their homes?”
“We compensated them.”
“Generously. But it never bothered you. A dozen of them. One little family and you can’t stop thinking about them.” She set down her glass. “Do you know what I think?”
“I’m sure I’m about to,” I stated wryly.
She ignored my sarcasm. “I think you became emotionally invested.”
“I’m never emotionally invested in a deal.”
“I’m not talking about the deal.”
“Drop it.”
“Hitting too close to home?”
I leaned forward, my voice low. “I’m not sure what you think you know, but there is no future. Alex has her life. I have mine. She won’t leave the East Coast.”
“Did you not hear me? She won’t leave.”
“I wasn’t talking about her, Dylan.”
“Are we at that again?” I huffed. “I am not, repeat, not a family man. Alex and the kids need that sort of man. I don’t know anything about being responsible for another person. I don’t want to repeat the hell of my past. I don’t want to look in the mirror and realize I’ve become my father.”
“Like he did with you, you mean? Ignore the child desperate for your love and immerse yourself in strangers and business instead?”
“Yes.” I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”
“Look again, Dylan,” she said sadly. “It might be too late.” She stood. “I’d like to go home now. I’ll arrange for a car to pick you up.”
I stared at her, unsure how to respond.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re already feeling responsible, which is why you’re so upset. I don’t think you’ve given yourself enough credit. I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself about a lot of things.” She hesitated, her hand gripping the back of the chair. “Sometimes what we want changes. How we do things has to be adjusted. Often, it’s scary. But if you grab that chance, the end result is amazing, Dylan. Think about it.”
She turned and left, her cryptic words resonating in my head.
I WAS TIRED AND CRANKY the next morning—even crankier than I had been since arriving home.
As soon as Arlene appeared, I was at her, barely waiting for her to sit down before I asked. “Did you arrange for those packages to be delivered?”
“I handled everything, yes.”
“I want them to have the gifts for Christmas.”
“They will—one way or another.”
“What does that mean?”
“Dylan.” She sighed and shook her head. “It means the gifts will be delivered, even if you don’t get your head out of your ass in time.”
“If you have something to say, then spit it out, old woman. Stop with your innuendos and not-so-subtle attempts to get into my fucking head,” I snapped.
She didn’t react to my tone or my words. She never did. She regarded me calmly, her gaze drifting to the windows behind where I sat. She got out of her chair and walked over to the large panes of glass, standing in silence as she gazed out.
Christmas Sugar ~ Melanie Moreland Page 10
