Hold on My Heart

by Tracy Brogan

  Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail, but Tom knew what it looked like spread across his pillow. His pulse revved like a motorcycle about to jump a canyon. He wanted to see her that way again, with her arms reaching up to him and her skin pink with heat. He’d like that for tonight. And maybe the next night after that, too.

  “We have to get Nana home, too,” Beverly added. “Thank you again for all your help lately, Tom. Ginny appreciates it, and I just can’t thank you enough for being there when Peter fell. I was wondering, in fact, if you had plans for Thanksgiving. We usually have just our family, but we’d be honored if you’d join us.”

  That invitation came from left field and plunked him on the head like a fly ball. Thanksgiving with the Hamiltons? He glanced over at Libby.

  Her eyes were wide with surprise. She’d obviously not known about this invitation beforehand. But she smiled and tipped her head to one side.

  “Unless of course you have other plans with your own family. But Rachel is more than welcome to join us, too,” Beverly added.

  “Um, I’m honored, really, Bev. I would hate to intrude on your family time.”

  “Oh, please,” Marti said, getting up from her chair. “We have family time every frickin’ Sunday. You should totally have Thanksgiving with us. My mom makes the best gravy on the planet.”

  “I make the best pies,” murmured Nana.

  Pie, and gravy, and time with Libby? That would be something to be thankful for. But being surrounded by all of them and trying to keep his feelings under wraps would be a tall order. He didn’t know what she’d said to them about him. And it wasn’t that he had regrets, because he didn’t. But going public and sharing a holiday with a woman’s family was a huge leap from tumbling between some blankets. Pie or no pie.

  “I appreciate the invitation, Bev. I’d like to check with Rachel, first, if you don’t mind. I need to know her plans first.”

  Libby turned back to the window.

  “Of course. There’s always plenty of food, so just let us know when you decide,” Beverly said.

  Rain started to pelt against the window. “Uh-oh, we’re too late. Let’s make a dash for it,” Dante said.

  Peter struggled up from his chair and adjusted his crutches with some help from Marti. “These things are going to get old very quickly.”

  “You’re lucky you’re not in a wheelchair,” Beverly said.

  They all moved to the door and clamored down the steps. Tom stopped in the doorway, watching. Libby moved past him without a word, and his chest went heavy, but halfway to the car she said, “Oh, I’ll be right back. I forgot my purse.”

  She turned around and moved quickly back inside, pulling at his shirt. He let himself be maneuvered, and as soon as she had him behind the door, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with such swiftness that he bumped against the wall. His own arms circled her waist, and he pulled her closer.

  It was a fast kiss. Too fast, because he wanted to hold her there for hours, but she stepped away as fast as she’d come at him.

  “Sorry,” she gasped. “I couldn’t resist.”

  “I’m glad. Can I see you later?”

  She shook her head and walked over to the chair to grab her purse. “I don’t think so. I have to help my dad settle in at home. I don’t really trust my mom around him. She’s still really mad and keeps accidentally bumping into his broken ankle.” Teasing was apparent by her tone, but she was sincere about not coming over. Disappointment thumped against his hope.

  “Well, you’d better stand guard then.”

  She came back and pulled on his shirt once more. “I had a really good time last night.”

  Her smile was shy, but her eyes were full of mischief, plucking his breath away as neatly as her kiss.

  “Me, too.” He wanted to gather her close again, but her family was waiting, and the contact would just make it harder to send her on her way.

  “Okay, well…” She sighed. “I’ll see you… around.”

  He just nodded. What else could he say except “when?” It was the only word going through his mind.

  CHAPTER eighteen

  “Isn’t it fabulous?” Marti’s voice was breathy with excitement as she led Libby and Ginny into the private dining hall of the Medieval Times banquet facilities. “Doesn’t it look just like a castle?”

  “If you lived in a castle made of cardboard, maybe,” Ginny murmured to Libby.

  Libby was inclined to agree. This was definitely not the place she’d choose to have a wedding, but Marti seemed enthralled by the fake cinder-block walls and dark, distressed-wooden furniture. Dozens of black wrought-iron sconces lined the walls, the fake, flickering candles casting light and shadows over brightly colored pennants. Overhead were three enormous black chandeliers. At least they were made of metal and not antlers.

  “We’ll have the family table up here on this stage. So you guys will sit up here,” Marti said, stepping up on the raised platform.

  “This room is kind of small, isn’t it?” Ginny asked.

  “It’s intimate. We’ve only invited about forty people.”

  “Is the ceremony going to be in here?” Ginny’s lack of awe was patently obvious.

  Marti rolled her eyes. “Of course not. That would be stupid. I’m riding up on a white horse, and they don’t let horses in the dining area.”

  “Yeah, because that would be tacky,” Libby whispered to Ginny.

  Ginny sighed and looked at her watch. “How long is this going to take, Marti? I need to get home to feed the baby.”

  “Relax, we’ve only been gone for half an hour, and I need to check on a couple more things. Hey, maybe you should apply for a job here, Libby. They do all sorts of special events. You’d be awesome at that.”

  Libby smiled. “Sure. And lots of people feel like they work in a dungeon. I could come here and work in an actual dungeon.”

  “It’s not a dungeon. It’s a dining hall.” Marti shook her head and rolled her eyes again. “Geez, you guys have zero sense of adventure.”

  Ginny pulled her phone out of her purse to check for messages.

  “I’m sure Teddy is fine, Ginny,” Libby said. “He’s got three men and a little old lady looking after him, and Mom is looking after all of them.”

  Ginny put her phone back in her purse. “I know. He’s fine, but I’m a wreck. I can’t stand to be away from him, even for a second. I cried at the grocery store the other day because I had too many items to go through the express lane and Teddy was at home waiting.”

  Libby chuckled. Her normally composed sister had become a weepy marshmallow. “So I take it motherhood is everything you dreamed it would be?”

  Ginny shook her head and laughed. “Oh, God, no. It’s nothing at all like I expected it to be, but I still love it.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “Well, for starters, I thought I’d have all this spare time while the baby was sleeping.” She made air quotes around the word sleeping. “I was going to read, clean my closets, try some new recipes, go out to lunch… but trust me, there is none of that. It’s usually two o’clock in the afternoon before I even take a shower. I wear maternity pants half the time because they’re comfortable, and all we ever eat is takeout. And Ben is already talking about having another baby.”

  “He is?” Libby couldn’t disguise the surprise in her voice.

  “Yes. I told him he could deliver the next one and I’d get drunk and pass out in the car.”

  “He’s never going to live that one down, is he?”

  Libby shook her head and chuckled at the memory of trying to fold her brother-in-law’s long legs into the car after that night at the pub.

  “Never.” Ginny’s tone was dry.

  “But it’s still good?”

  Her sister’s face split into a smile. “Yes. I just look at Teddy and I don’t even care that I have spit-up all over my shirt or that I never get to sleep for more than three hours at a time.” Ginny grabbe
d Libby’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You should have a baby, Libby. Marry Tom and have a baby right away.”

  Libby nearly buckled at the knees from the chop of that comment.

  Marti twirled around from examining some plastic battle shields hanging on the wall. “Yes, you should totally marry Tom and have a baby, Libby.”

  Libby looked from one sister to the other, her heart bouncing like a yo-yo. They were teasing, of course, but her throat squeezed shut anyway. “That’s very funny. And a little premature, don’t you think? I just met him.”

  “But you’re crazy about him. You should have seen them yesterday at the ice-cream parlor, Ginny,” Marti said, her voice coy. “It was practically slippery, there was so much drooling going on.”

  Libby gasped then, with laughter and embarrassment. “Are you high? There was no drooling. He didn’t even say anything to me.”

  “I know, and it was so painfully obvious he was trying not to look at you. I think he pulled a muscle in his eye.” She turned to Ginny. “I swear there was steam coming out of his clothes.”

  “That is ridiculous. There is nothing going on.” Libby wasn’t ready to talk about this. Everything with Tom was so new and so unexpected, she hadn’t had a chance to process it for herself yet. Getting their opinions mixed up in her own would only make things more confusing.

  “Can I have my condoms back?” Marti said, holding out one hand and tapping her foot.

  “What?” Ginny burst out with an unladylike squawk of laughter.

  Marti tapped her foot faster and looked at Libby. “Nana and I sent Libby over to Tom’s house the other night loaded up with peach pie and condoms, and all she came home with was bed head and whisker burn.”

  Libby couldn’t keep the heat from her cheeks or the smile from her face, though she fought them both. “How is this any of your business, Marti?”

  “It’s my business because I’m invested. I like Tom, and he has a truck. Do you know how handy it is to have a guy in the family with a truck?”

  “You think I should marry Tom because he has a truck?”

  “No, I think you should marry him because he’s cool and looks fun to climb. The truck is just an extra perk.”

  Libby burst out laughing. “This is absurd. I’m not talking to you about this right now.”

  “I’m with Marti,” Ginny blurted out. “You should absolutely marry him and have a baby. Fast, so our kids could play together.” Practical, predictable Ginny must be on some sort of medication, and Libby was beginning to feel outnumbered.

  “Aren’t you the one who said Marti and Dante were rushing into things?”

  “Yes, and I still think they are.”

  “Hey!” Marti frowned.

  Ginny kept on talking. “But when I think back on it, I knew with Ben right away. We still dated for a long time before we got engaged, but we knew almost immediately.”

  “See!” Marti looked from Libby to Ginny and back again. “See what I told you, Libby? True love is spontaneous and powerful and impossible to ignore.”

  Libby’s laughter faded, and the floor seemed to tilt. She wanted to believe Marti about that. She really did. Everything felt so right when she was with Tom. But that didn’t mean it would work. Or that they should rush things.

  “It’s just not that simple, you guys. He’s got… stuff on his mind. There’s some history to him, you know. And he has a fifteen-year-old daughter.”

  “I saw you with her at the talent show. You two got along great,” said Ginny, rummaging around in her purse for her phone again.

  Libby walked away, staring at the rustic sconces but thinking about Rachel. And Tom. She turned back around to face her sisters. “I have to be honest, this thing with Tom is kind of a big deal.”

  Saying it out loud was the bravest thing she could imagine.

  Marti and Ginny froze in place.

  “It is?” Ginny dropped her phone back in her purse without looking at it.

  It was a big deal. And not just because the sex had been good. Or even because the sex had been phenomenal. The truth was, Libby had never felt this way before about anyone, not even Seth, and they’d been together for more than three years.

  “Yes, but it just doesn’t make any sense to me. How could I like Tom this much, this fast?”

  “Why does it have to make sense?” Marti scooted back to sit on a table.

  “I’m not as spontaneous and daring as you are, Marti. Sometimes I like things to have an explanation.”

  Marti twirled her hair for a second, and then turned toward Ginny. “Why did you want to have a baby, Ginny?”

  Ginny looked a little startled. “What? Why are we talking about me now?”

  “Just answer the question. Why did you want to have a baby?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I just always wanted kids, and it seemed like the right time.”

  Marti held up her hands. “And there you go. No one can explain why we want to have kids. It’s just a compulsion for most of us. Instinct. Just like being attracted to somebody. The only explanation you need is biology. Maybe this is nature’s way of telling you to stop dating assholes and find yourself a nice carpenter.”

  Libby huffed with equal parts amusement and sting. “Wow. I’m not sure if that’s scientific, or sentimental, or just plain stupid.”

  Ginny scratched her head. “I have to say it, Libby. Marti might be on to something here. I mean, first of all, you have dated a lot of assholes. Tom is the first really decent guy you’ve ever been involved with, so it makes sense you’d feel differently about him.”

  There was no point in defending the asshole comment, because it was true. She just hadn’t realized it until Seth rode away into the San Diego sunset without so much as a postcard.

  “You guys are ganging up on me.”

  “I don’t mean to,” Ginny said. “You probably should wait to get married, but I do think you finally have a keeper on your hands. And you know Tom will always be my hero. If it wasn’t for him I might have had my baby in the back of a taxicab.”

  Tom’s phone was in his pocket when he felt it vibrate. He pulled it out, optimistic since almost no one texted him.

  RU HOME? Except Libby.

  Ridiculous how such an abbreviated message could shift a practical man into a boyish mess. He texted back: HEADING THERE NOW. WANT TO HAVE DINNER?

  I’LL BRING IT. MEET YOU AT YOUR HOUSE?

  YEP.

  Then he sent a second text. HURRY.

  Libby stood at his door forty-five minutes later with a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack in the other.

  “Wow. You may just be the perfect woman.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into the house, the pizza and beer clunking against the doorframe.

  “Wait, wait,” she said, laughter making her quiver in his arms. “Let me set this down. There’s more.”

  “More?” She was a vixen with pizza and beer. How could there be more? He loosened his hold, and she set the stuff down on the counter. Her eyes twinkled as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a little dark blue box. She tossed it with a flourish onto the counter next to the pizza.

  Tom leaned over.

  Condoms. The economy pack of twenty-four.

  God bless her.

  “Am I being presumptuous again?” she asked. Her hair was loose and fluffed up by the wind, and her eyes were bright.

  “You’re being awesome.” He pulled her close and kissed her with all the longing he’d saved up over the last two days. She was warm and eager, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and lifting up on her toes to press against him.

  Every time. Every time he kissed her he was amazed by the sheer thrill of it, the push and pull between them.

  “Do you know the best thing about pizza?” she murmured against his cheek.

  “What?”

  “You can eat it cold.”

  His desire reflected in her eyes. He grabbed the edge of her jacket and push
ed it off her, letting it fall to the floor, and then he reached behind her for the little box.

  “Let’s go.” He turned and dragged her down the hall toward his bedroom. She followed, hopping intermittently to kick off one shoe, and then the other.

  Blood pounded in his veins as they fell on the bed and she started tugging on his clothes. The world fell away until it was just the two of them in an ocean of blankets. He kissed her up and down, reveling in her touch and taste and the sounds of her pleasure. Libby Hamilton was a treasure he’d never thought to discover. And when he sank into the depths of her, and she breathed his name so softly against his ear, Tom knew there was no going back, and no standing still. There was only moving forward.

  “So, what do you think about Thanksgiving with my family?” Libby asked as they snuggled together under the covers. “Sorry my mother put you on the spot like that.”

  Tom adjusted his pillow and twined a lock of Libby’s gold hair around his index finger. “You looked a little surprised by her invitation, too. Sorry she put you on the spot.”

  The idea of dinner with the Hamilton family had been on his mind ever since Beverly had made the offer. Last year Rachel had celebrated with her grandparents and he’d stayed home, watching old home movies and getting drunk by himself, just like he’d done on Christmas and New Year’s Eve. It was not a tradition he planned on keeping. One year of that was enough.

  “I’m good with it,” Libby said, moving a little closer. “I mean, I’d be glad to have you there. Or I would, if… if you’d be glad. I’m just not sure where you are with all of this.” She gestured toward the bed, but he knew what she meant. Whatever was between them had yet to be defined, as if he were unfolding a map but didn’t know at what county he was looking.

  A little crease formed between her eyebrows. “And like I said before, I don’t want to be anybody’s quicksand and drag you into where you don’t want to be. I know my family can be a little overwhelming.”

  Remorse tapped him on the shoulder. “I told you I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”