Christmas in Cambria

by Linda Seed

  But, God, he hadn’t wanted that to happen. Now that it looked like it wouldn’t, he felt buoyed as he savored this feeling of being a part of something again—a part of a family.

  They still needed to have The Talk, though—the discussion about what she would do next and what role he might play in that. There was still the potential for it all to go wrong, but he was determined not to let the worry of it ruin his day.

  He bought the boys ice cream bars, and they ate them while exclaiming over the antics of the white-handed gibbons. Quinn held Delilah’s hand, smiling like an idiot. Or, smiling like a guy who’d finally found what he wanted.

  Chapter 34

  They had The Talk that night in bed, after they’d waited for the kids to go to sleep and then took a long, leisurely time to enjoy each other’s bodies.

  “So. Plans.” Quinn was the one who brought it up. He’d waited as long as he could. Now, while they were both satisfied and relaxed, seemed as good a time as any.

  “Right. Plans.” Delilah rolled onto her side to face him. “Let me just preface this by saying it’s awkward, because it’s only been two months, and we shouldn’t have to decide where this thing is going after two months.”

  “But, special circumstances,” he said.

  “Yes. Special circumstances.” Delilah sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts. “The way I see it, we have three choices: I stay in Cambria, I move back to Connecticut without you, or I move back to Connecticut with you.”

  “And there are choices within the choices,” Quinn added. “For instance, if you move back to Connecticut without me, we can either let each other go or try a long-distance relationship.” He’d said those things in the spirit of laying out all of the possible options. But he opposed this particular scenario so strongly he almost couldn’t get the words out.

  “I don’t want us to let each other go.”

  He let out a breath and relaxed. “Okay, good. I don’t want that, either.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, grinning at him. “Okay, then. Next question: long-distance relationship, or do we stay close to each other?”

  He sat up now, too, because this seemed like the kind of conversation you needed to be upright for.

  “Long-distance relationships suck,” he said. “I mean, I’ve never had one. But I imagine they suck. They’d have to.”

  “Agreed. We won’t do that, then.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her to seal the deal.

  “I couldn’t do that long-distance,” he said.

  “No. You couldn’t. And I couldn’t do this.” She put her hand on his chest and started sliding it downward.

  “Ah … as much as I love where you’re going with that,” he said, “we have to work out the rest.”

  Her hand stilled. “You’re right. We do.”

  “Hold that thought, though.”

  She brought her hand to rest on his forearm—a much safer location.

  “So. Do you stay here, or do I go there?”

  That was the question. Quinn loved Cambria—he loved everything about it. He loved the small-town atmosphere, the beaches, the pines. He loved the locals who called out to him every time he went out on Main Street. He loved the community spirit, the farmer’s market on Fridays in the vet’s hall parking lot. He loved the proximity to Big Sur. He loved the annual town musical the longtime locals put on. Hell, he even loved the steady flow of tourists.

  But he loved Delilah more.

  “Do you want to go back to Connecticut?” he asked in a bid to get his thoughts off of himself and onto her. He was just one person, but she represented three people. It seemed to him that her vote should, therefore, have more weight.

  Delilah considered the question carefully and deliberately.

  Part of her never wanted to go back there again. The memories from her marriage and its ultimate collapse were too raw, too fresh. But there was more to consider than just herself.

  “My family is there,” she said. “My parents and my sister.”

  “Okay.”

  “Jesse and Gavin both have friends they’d be leaving behind.”

  He waited.

  “But,” she went on, “I think I need some distance from my family, especially right now. My mother hasn’t accepted the divorce. She still thinks Mitch and I are going to get back together.”

  He nodded, still not speaking. She appreciated how he just listened, waiting for her to work through it on her own. Mitch never would have done that. Mitch would have had a hundred arguments to sway her in his direction.

  “And,” she said, “the boys are so young. Friendships at this age are so changeable. Kids can be best friends one day and refuse to talk to each other the next.”

  Still, he waited.

  “I guess what I’m saying is … I think I want to stay here. With you.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  She hesitated slightly, then nodded. “Yes. It is.”

  It wasn’t until the smile spread across his face that she realized how tense he’d been waiting for her answer. “Thank God.” He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, and she let out a subdued whoop at his sudden enthusiasm.

  They kissed for a long time in this new place, this place where they’d both decided, at last, to be together.

  When they finally broke the kiss, she brought up the rest of it. “I’ll have to figure out what to do about a job. I have enough money from the settlement that I don’t have to worry about it right now. But I’ll have to worry about it eventually.”

  “Well, if you move in with me, you could save on rent. You could—”

  “No.” She put her hand on his chest and shook her head.

  “No?”

  “No. Or, at least, not now. The boys have been through too much change. I can’t move in with you until I know you and I are forever. As much as anyone can know that. To move in and then have it not work out? I couldn’t put Jesse and Gavin through that. I can’t put myself through that.”

  And she needed to find out who she was when she wasn’t living with a man. She thought that part but didn’t say it. She’d let Mitch swallow her whole until there was no Delilah left. And it would be so easy to let Quinn do the same thing. She couldn’t let that happen. She needed to be firmly herself long enough that when she and Quinn did decide to live together—or even get married—Delilah would be strong and firm and real enough that she wouldn’t fade, even under the bright glare of her love for Quinn.

  “Okay,” he said. “Fair enough. So, we need to find you a place. Maybe one to buy this time, and not just a rental. If you want that.”

  Delilah felt a surge of excitement at the idea. She’d never bought her own house, not without Mitch. When they’d bought their house together, it had been all about him and his image of the way they should live. The thought of choosing what she wanted for the new life she was building made her almost giddy with pleasure.

  “I’ll want three bedrooms, and a big back yard for the boys to play in. And for the dog.”

  “The dog?”

  “Of course we’re going to get a dog,” she said, almost without pausing. “And I want someplace bright, with a lot of natural light. Not too close to the water, I think. Too foggy. I love some of the places I’ve seen on Lodge Hill. They have so much character. And the kitchen …”

  Quinn listened to Delilah talk about the house she wanted, and he knew they’d made the right decision. If she’d been hesitant or scared at the idea of buying a house here, if she’d seemed to be pretending to be happy, he’d have worried that she was doing this for him and not because it was best for her.

  But the joy he saw in her, the excitement—that didn’t lie.

  She wanted to be here.

  And he wanted her here, today, tomorrow, next year, and the year after that.

  He sat back and listened to her and felt a greater sense of happiness—of peace—than he’d felt in a long time. Maybe ever.


  Everything was going his way.

  Now, they just had to hope to hell that her asshole ex didn’t screw with them any more than he already had.

  Chapter 35

  In the coming days, Delilah noticed an uptick in the number of calls Mitch made to the boys. He was perfunctory when Delilah answered the phone—Hello, can I speak to my sons, please—and Delilah sensed trouble.

  Mitch had shown so little interest in the boys over the past year that this couldn’t be about him trying to be a more attentive father. He had to be pumping Jesse and Gavin for information on Quinn.

  She could have told them not to discuss Quinn with their father or, even worse, she could have told them to lie and say they hadn’t seen Quinn. But Delilah didn’t want to go down that road. It was simply bad mothering to encourage her kids to lie, and anyway, what was the point? She needed to be free—not to have the illusion of freedom because she’d managed to keep Mitch in the dark.

  She and Quinn were a couple now, and the boys could say whatever they wanted about that to their father. Delilah would deal with the fallout.

  She knew that fallout would come. She just didn’t expect it to take the form it did.

  Delilah had plans to meet with a Realtor on a Wednesday morning in early January.

  Quinn and the boys were planning to come with her as she began to look at houses for her new life in Cambria.

  She was excited, and the whole thing had an air of festivity about it that rivaled what they’d all felt at Christmas. For the first time, Delilah would be choosing what she really wanted—what reflected her own personality, her own needs, her own vision about the life she was building for herself.

  She was practically giddy with anticipation, bustling around the rental house getting ready for her day, when the doorbell rang.

  Delilah thought it was Quinn—that’s why she had a smile on her face as she opened the door. That was why she’d felt happy and relaxed.

  But it wasn’t Quinn.

  Instead, Delilah’s ex-husband stood on the front porch, looking tired and pinched and a little angry.

  She gasped when she saw him, though she couldn’t have said whether that was from fear or surprise.

  “What are you doing here?”

  If she’d had more time to come up with something to say, she might have been less confrontational, less hostile. But the words just popped out before she could form a strategy.

  “Delilah, can we talk?”

  Oh, God. This had to be about his plan to get custody. He was here to threaten her, or maybe to announce that he was filing the papers. Adrenaline shot through her. That, and stark terror.

  “If you came to see the boys, you should have called first. How did you even know where to find us?”

  He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. He might have found her in any number of ways. Her mother, for one. Delilah had no doubt her mother would hand over any information he wanted if she thought it meant she and Mitch might somehow repair their marriage.

  “I didn’t come to see them. I mean, I do want to. Of course. But mostly, I came to talk to you.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “So talk.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  He wore jeans and a polo shirt—nothing fancy about that—but she knew from experience that no single item he wore cost less than two hundred dollars, probably including his socks.

  He looked older than when she’d last seen him. He had the same medium blond hair, the same trim build, the same intense blue eyes. The same expensive haircut. But something about him—maybe his expression, maybe the way he held himself—suggested the kind of stress that wore on a person day after day. He looked five years older than when she’d last seen him.

  “Delilah, come on.”

  Her intention to hold him off at the door was foiled when Jesse and Gavin, who’d been playing in Jesse’s room, heard their father’s voice. They poked their heads out tentatively at first, as though they dared not believe they’d heard what they thought they’d heard.

  When they saw him, they exploded out of the room and down the hallway, running toward their father.

  “Dad! Dad!” Jesse hurtled past Delilah and into his father’s arms. Gavin, in his race to get there, tripped over his feet and fell to the floor. He got up and darted toward Mitch before Delilah could even react to his fall.

  Gavin threw one arm around Mitch’s legs, the thumb of his free hand plugged into his mouth.

  “Hey, fellas.” Mitch knelt down to the boys’ level and wrapped one arm around each of his sons.

  Jesse peppered him with questions. “Are you back? Do you live here now? Did you miss us on Christmas Day? Do you want to see what I got?”

  Gavin simply clung to him without saying anything.

  “Whoa there, Jesse. That’s a lot of questions.” But Mitch had a wistful smile on his face that Delilah rarely saw. His eyes reddened, and he cleared his throat before he spoke. If she didn’t know better, she would think he really did miss the boys. Could that be true, or was it an act he was performing for her sake?

  “Listen, guys. I have to talk to your mom in private for a bit. Then how about if I take you out for ice cream? Is that all right, Delilah?”

  “It’s nine a.m., Mitch.”

  “Well, breakfast, then. Pancakes. What do you say, boys?”

  The kids erupted in excited agreement, so Delilah hardly had a choice in the matter.

  “Fine,” she said. It might be better if the boys didn’t come on the house shopping expedition, anyway. They’d likely find it excruciatingly boring.

  “Great. That’s great.” Mitch released his sons and stood up.

  “Guys, can you go back into Jesse’s room for a bit?” Delilah asked gently. “I need to talk to your dad, then he’ll take you to the Redwood Cafe.”

  They went back down the hall, sneaking peeks back at Mitch as though he might vanish before they returned. Which, she thought, was a real possibility if their talk didn’t go well.

  “All right,” she said when they were gone. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Can I come in now? The boys are going to wonder why you wouldn’t let me past the front door.”

  He had a point. She stood back wordlessly to let him enter.

  Quinn was looking forward to house shopping with Delilah. It wasn’t his ideal scenario—that would have been if she and the boys had decided to move in with him.

  But Delilah wasn’t ready for it, and that was fine. As long as they were heading in that general direction, he could wait as long as it took.

  He reminded himself not to take over as he had with the Christmas preparations. It was fine to do the man-in-control thing when cutting down a tree or planning a route at the zoo. It was entirely another to try it when a woman was choosing a home for herself. This was her decision, not his. He needed to be supportive, but he also needed to hang back and remember that this was about her and the boys, not his own opinions or desires.

  Quinn went through his morning routine—coffee, shower, breakfast—planning what he might do when they were through with the Realtor. Maybe he’d take the Ballards to lunch. After that, they could see a movie if Delilah didn’t have plans. There was a new Pixar movie out that the boys would love.

  Feeling the joy and enthusiasm of a man whose life was going exactly to plan, he drove to Delilah’s rental house anticipating kissing her.

  He really liked kissing her.

  When he saw an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway, he thought it had to be the Realtor. Was he late? He checked the clock in his car and saw that he wasn’t. Maybe the Realtor was early.

  He was actually whistling as he went up the front walk. He let himself in instead of knocking because Delilah had told him to do that. She’d told him he was on just-come-in status now.

  He stopped short when he saw Delilah in the living room with a man whose face was familiar. He knew where he’d seen that face before: in the fr
amed photos on Jesse and Gavin’s bedside tables.

  Oh, shit.

  “What’s going on?” he said. But that wasn’t what he wanted to ask. He wanted to ask, What the hell are you doing here? And when the fuck are you leaving?

  “Oh. Quinn.” Delilah tried on a smile, but it was wobbly and unconvincing. “This is Mitch. Mitch, this is Quinn Monroe.”

  Quinn forced himself to walk over and extend his hand, but the asshole ex didn’t take it.

  “If you don’t mind, I’m trying to have a private conversation with my wife.”

  “I’m not your wife,” Delilah said. “Not anymore.”

  Mitch didn’t acknowledge what Delilah had said. Instead, he stared Quinn down the way he probably did with opponents at his law firm.

  Quinn tried to assess the situation, but it was hard, given the undercurrents of tension and loathing flying through the room.

  “Delilah? Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Of course.”

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “She just said she’s fine. So, you can move along, sport.” Mitch made a shooing motion with his hands.

  Delilah got up, came to Quinn, and put a hand on his arm as she gently ushered him toward the door.

  “He just showed up,” she said, her voice low for privacy. “He said he wants to talk. If he’s going to tell me he’s suing for custody … Quinn, I need to talk him down, and I can’t do that if you’re here making him mad.”

  “I didn’t do anything to make him mad. If he’s mad, maybe it’s because he’s an asshole.”

  “Quinn, please.”

  The look in her eyes said she was begging him. Begging him to go.

  “All right. I’ll be right outside, in the car. If you need me, call me.” He held up his cell phone to illustrate.

  “I will.”

  “Delilah? You’re safe, right?”