A WEDDING FOR CHRISTMAS

by Marie Ferrarella

  “It’s okay,” Shane assured her. “If you want to wait and put off filing papers for a while, that’s okay.” He laughed shortly. “It’s not as if I’m in any hurry to get this over with.”

  She stared at him in wonder. “You’re not?”

  Judiciously, he told her the harmless part. “To be honest, I kind of like hearing Ricky call me Daddy and I’d miss that.”

  That was easy enough to deal with. It was the least she could do. “He doesn’t have to stop calling you that. I mean...” She glanced down, then raised her eyes to his again. “I forgot about Ricky,” she admitted. “I don’t mean I forgot about him, but I forgot about how setting you free would affect him.”

  That was the second time she’d used the word “free” in connection with his situation. He really wished she wouldn’t.

  “I’m not exactly in bondage here, Cris. Setting me ‘free’ indicates I’m a prisoner in this. I’m not,” he told her. “And I certainly don’t feel like one.”

  “You don’t?” she asked in a hushed voice, trying to get hold of her feelings, which were becoming jumbled in response to his touch.

  “No, I don’t,” he told her. “Not at all.”

  She deliberately looked away, afraid what he might see in her if he kept eye contact. “Being ‘married’ to me had to be frustrating, though. After all, it put your social life on hold.”

  “That’s not why it was frustrating,” Shane told her before he could think to censor his words. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I didn’t exactly have a social life before I volunteered to marry you so you could keep custody of Ricky.”

  “Well, I did sort of notice you didn’t rush off to meet someone at the end of the day,” she admitted. “But I just thought you were a very hard worker and were trying to finish the renovations on the inn as fast as possible.” The rest of his words played themselves back in her head, arousing her curiosity. “Why was it frustrating?”

  He was busy coming to terms with what had just happened, and her question hit him out of the blue. “Excuse me?”

  “You said that putting your social life on hold wasn’t why being ‘married’ to me was frustrating,” Cris repeated. “Why was it frustrating?”

  “Since we had agreed to make this a marriage of convenience, I had to keep all my natural instincts in check,” he explained. “I couldn’t let myself touch you like this.” He illustrated his point, ever so lightly gliding his fingertips along her face, pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. “Or hold you like this,” he continued, slipping his arms around her waist and drawing her gently to him. “Or kiss you the way I wanted to,” he whispered, lowering his face until only inches separated them.

  She could feel her heart pounding wildly, could feel all the stirrings she’d felt earlier but magnified tenfold and clustered so that they were exceedingly hard for her to resist.

  His eyes held her captive as she told him in a whisper that was barely audible, “I wouldn’t have pushed you away if you had done all those things.”

  Unable to hold back any longer, the next moment he was kissing her.

  The moment after that, they were springing apart as if both had suddenly stepped on spring-loaders. They were no longer alone.

  Cris’s father, her sisters, Wyatt and Ricky had descended on them en masse, their raised, jovial voices blending inharmoniously to heap congratulations on Cris and Shane before they even walked into the room.

  She dearly loved her family, Cris thought, but she would really have liked for them to come in at least a couple of minutes later, allowing her to enjoy what had been ended so abruptly.

  Even so, although that kiss hadn’t run its course, Cris had arrived at the realization that she was in love with this pretend husband of hers. In love with him, and not at all willing to cast asunder what a roly-poly man in an ill-fitting suit had legalized in the gambling capital of the country.

  And she had a feeling, Cris thought, glancing at him as her family swarmed around them, shaking hands and kissing, that Shane knew.

  What was she going to do about that?

  “Didn’t I tell you that Travis was good?” Wyatt was asking her, pleased beyond words that things had turned out this way without having Cris and Ricky put through any sort of lengthy ordeal. Since he sincerely cared about both of them, this meant a lot to him.

  “You did that,” Cris agreed, giving the man she had grown up with and regarded as a brother a huge, grateful hug.

  “But even I didn’t think it would be over with this fast,” Wyatt admitted.

  “Now I won’t have to feel guilty about going through with the wedding,” Alex said, joining her voice with Wyatt’s.

  “There was nothing to feel guilty about,” Cris told her. “Your impending wedding was practically the only thing that kept me going at times,” she told the duo.

  Stevi suddenly realized that she was still in charge of the event. The prospect of losing Ricky had put everything on hold, but now it was business as usual. Stevi jumped in with both feet.

  “We’ve got less than a week, people, and we’ve dropped the ball. From now on, we need to focus, focus, focus. Otherwise, this will not go off as planned—do I make myself clear?”

  “Oh, Lord, she’s back,” Andy lamented, rolling her eyes.

  “No, she isn’t,” Ricky said, confused. “She never went away.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes.” Alex laughed, shaking her head.

  “I’m not a baby,” Ricky protested. Sticking his thumb into his chest, he declared, “I’m a big boy. Right, Daddy?” he asked, seeking backup from the new man in his life.

  “Right you are,” Shane agreed. “But now I’ve got to get back to work,” he said, directing his words this time to Richard.

  “I can help!” Ricky quickly volunteered, falling into step beside him as Shane began to walk out of the room. The little boy was fairly skipping, taking two steps to each one of Shane’s.

  Shane was about to tell the boy to remain with his mother, but glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that she was waving her son on.

  “It’s okay, Ricky. Just be sure to listen to everything he tells you—and follow it to the letter. Understand?”

  “Understand,” Ricky crowed, excited. Tucking his hand into Shane’s, he went happily off.

  “You know, anyone seeing that would think they really were father and son,” Richard commented.

  “I know,” Cris replied quietly.

  Telling Ricky that Shane wouldn’t be his daddy anymore was going to be just awful, she thought. She could feel her stomach tying itself into a knot at the mere idea.

  But she knew the job was hers. She just needed to get her strength together to do it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  HE MOVED HIS things out of Cris’s bedroom that evening.

  There was no longer a need to keep up the appearance of a real marriage. But because Shane was now working close to eighteen hours a day—doing the things that didn’t involve major disruptions and create jarring noise in the early hours as well as the late ones, and the noisy work only during the day—Richard insisted that he remain in one of the inn’s rooms as a guest. Since that allowed him to remain in proximity to Cris, Shane couldn’t get himself to turn down the offer.

  Shane worked hard and long, as if his sanity depended on it, because in a way it did. Being so busy during the day gave him no time to think.

  That, however, proved impossible.

  It seemed to him that no matter what he was doing, whether working on the renovations or creating the new wing, images of Cris would pop up in his mind, unbidden. The way she tilted her chin, the way she laughed at something he’d said or done, making him feel they were sharing a private moment. The way her lips pursed when she was having a dream. All that was branded in his b
rain.

  He knew he couldn’t keep running from the truth. He was in love with her.

  And all the while, Christmas and Alex and Wyatt’s wedding were drawing steadily closer and closer. When the day finally arrived, it would signal the beginning of the end of his make-believe marriage to Cris. She’d said she was postponing filing for divorce until then.

  “Then” no longer seemed far away at all.

  With each hour that went by, no matter what he was doing, Shane found himself resisting the idea of the end more and more.

  The right thing to do, he knew, was to just let it happen. Let Cris go on with her life and he would go on with his.

  But he didn’t want to do “the right thing.” If he just allowed things to unfold the way they seemed destined to unfold, he would wind up never forgiving himself. Because he’d wind up alone.

  For better or worse, he had to make his feelings known, had to state his case, however clumsily, to Cris. If, after he said his piece, she still wanted to go through with the divorce, he wouldn’t stand in her way, wouldn’t try to talk her out of it. He’d accept her decision.

  But before any of that transpired, first he wanted her to hear his side of it.

  The question was when?

  Because Cris seemed as busy as he was, he really didn’t want to ruin what little free time she did have by putting her on the spot. So he let one day slip by, then two, then three. One day fed into another, and before he knew it, it was Christmas Eve, a time, he’d discovered earlier, that Cris and her family celebrated the holiday with their traditional Christmas Eve dinner and then exchanged their gifts.

  Since it was a family celebration, Shane was completely surprised when Richard came up to him and asked him to attend.

  “If you don’t have any other plans,” the older man qualified.

  It took Shane a moment to replay the man’s words in his head and convince himself that his ears weren’t playing tricks on him.

  “No, I don’t have any other plans,” he replied. Realizing that he must have sounded monotone and stilted, he explained, “I guess I’m just surprised that you’d invite me.”

  “Well, you’re still officially Cris’s husband, so of course you’re invited,” Richard said, as if there was no other way to regard the current situation between his daughter and Shane. “Eight o’clock all right with you?” Richard asked, then added, “That’s when we always have Christmas Eve dinner.”

  “Eight o’clock’s great,” Shane said with enthusiasm. “I’ll be there.”

  “Oh,” Richard doubled back to tell him one final thing. “As you know we exchange gifts after dinner, but please don’t feel obligated to bring anything. You’ve already done so much,” Richard assured him before he went back to his office to tend to some last-minute matters.

  “Not nearly as much as I’d like to do,” Shane said under his breath.

  * * *

  EVERYONE IN THE Roman family, as well as Wyatt, made him feel at home.

  They no longer had a reason to go out of their way and pretend he was part of the family and yet, Shane thought as he sat at the table, finishing his meal and taking part in the conversation, that was exactly the way Cris’s family was behaving.

  As if he were one of them.

  Shane did his best to absorb as much of the event as he could. He was well aware that this might be the next-to-last time he’d be sitting here like this, with Cris on one side of him and Ricky on the other.

  If things didn’t wind up going the way he hoped tonight, he’d have no choice but to file for that divorce.

  The very thought of it pinched his stomach.

  “Now can I unwrap my presents?” Ricky asked his mother in a barely patient voice as he pushed away his empty plate.

  “What makes you think you have any presents to unwrap?” Wyatt deadpanned. “Maybe Santa’s running late tonight.”

  “I got at least one present,” Ricky told him. “I saw Daddy putting a big box under the tree.”

  “Maybe that was for me,” Richard suggested, joining in teasing his grandson.

  But Ricky wasn’t about to be swayed. “Nah, it’s got my name on it. I checked,” he said as if he were more young man than little boy.

  “Nothing gets by you, does it?” Shane laughed with affection, giving the boy a hug.

  Ricky endured the hug for a moment before wriggling out of it. “So can I?” he wanted to know, rocking in his seat. “Can I go open my presents?”

  “Tell you what, why don’t we all go to the main room to open our presents?” Alex suggested.

  “The dishes won’t magically do themselves,” Cris pointed out as she began to stack them.

  Richard put his hand over his daughter’s to still them. “Maybe they will, just this once,” he told her with a wink.

  He coaxed her toward the main room, knowing the dishes would be taken care of by Jorge, who’d volunteered to do cleanup so they could enjoy the rest of their evening.

  Richard, as the patriarch, was in charge of the gift distribution. As always, there was something for everyone. Richard always made sure of that.

  Shane’s gift to Ricky turned out to be a miniature tool belt with tools that looked like the real deal, but were designed for use by a boy his age.

  “Now I can really help you,” the boy crowed gleefully.

  “You might live to regret giving him that,” Cris predicted with a laugh. She was enjoying Ricky’s reaction to everything. It pleased her that despite the way they all doted on him, Ricky never behaved as if he was entitled to things.

  “I’d never regret giving him something that makes him happy,” Shane replied.

  Shane won her heart with that. It was just that simple.

  When the gifts were handed out, Shane was surprised there were several for him. That gave Shane additional courage to do what he felt he had to do.

  He had yet to present Cris with his gift for her. Tucked away in his pocket, it seemed to grow heavier and heavier by the moment.

  When the gathering began to break up, he stepped up to Cris. “Can I see you outside for a minute?”

  She appeared a little torn as she looked down at her son. “Go,” Richard urged. “I’ll put Ricky to bed,” he volunteered happily. “It’s been a while since I read to him.”

  “Okay,” Cris agreed. She paused to kiss her son on the head and said, “Listen to Grandpa.” Then she turned toward Shane. “Lead the way.”

  He led her over to the side of the veranda. Once outside and alone, Cris asked, “Something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he assured her. And then he took a breath, praying he wouldn’t wind up tripping over his own tongue. He was more a man of action than words. The irony of the situation struck him just then. “You know, I told myself I wouldn’t do this.”

  Cris still didn’t understand what was going on or what he was getting at, although she knew in her heart what she hoped he was getting at.

  “Do what?”

  Here went nothing—or everything, he amended. “Wouldn’t tell you how I felt about you. But a part of me is afraid that if I let this slip by, if I just remain silent and let things unfold along the path they’re already on, I’ll regret it not just for now or even later, but for the rest of my life.”

  Shane paused, almost afraid to continue. If he didn’t say the words, didn’t bare his soul to her, he couldn’t hear her reject him if it came to that.

  But he also wouldn’t hear her say yes—if he got to be that lucky.

  He dug into his pocket and pulled out the small silver-paper-wrapped box that had been burning a hole in his pocket and held out the box to her.

  “Here.”

  She stared at the small gift, feeling numb with anticipation—yet afraid to find out what it was. Because what
if it wasn’t what she thought it was? Then she’d be devastated.

  So instead of reaching for it, she asked softly, “What is it?”

  “Open it,” he urged.

  Hands trembling, she took the little box from him and removed the wrapping paper. There was a velvet box inside it. Cris held her breath as she pushed back the lid.

  “It’s a ring,” she whispered. A row of small diamonds winked at her, as if to share their secret with her. She looked up at Shane.

  Waiting.

  “It was my mother’s. Her wedding ring,” he added needlessly. And then he plunged into the deep end of the pool by saying what was in his heart. “I want you to marry me. Or stay married to me, however you want to look at it.” He was fumbling, he chided himself. Taking a breath, he tried again. “I’ve loved you since before you ever went out with Mike and I know I don’t have the right to turn this charade to my advantage, but—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish because Cris had thrown her arms around his neck and sealed her mouth to his even as tears began to stream down her face.

  For a moment, Shane allowed the dizzying excitement to fill his being and take over. He kissed her back, losing himself in the blooming green fields of hope and the promise of a world of tomorrows.

  When the kiss ended and she moved her head back, he was dazed enough to ask, “Is that a yes, or are you just trying not to hurt my feelings?”

  She laughed then, laughed with happiness, laughed with relief and just plain joy. “Yes, that’s a yes.”

  He still couldn’t get himself to believe it. “A real yes, or a pity yes?”

  “Will you just shut up and hold me?” she cried, laying her head against his chest.

  “I can do that,” he told her, closing his arms around her.

  The sound of his heart beating against her cheek was the most reassuring sound she’d heard in a very long time. Cris was sorely tempted to remain like that indefinitely, until all the stars faded from the sky.

  But ever the responsible one, she had a wedding to prepare for. Alex and Wyatt’s wedding.