by Ev Bishop
Expressing the wish that those What Ifs triggered, however? Whispering it aloud, regardless of whether he’d thought she was asleep or not? That stupidity was totally the rum’s fault. Of course, he should’ve kept his premature hope to himself. Of course, being that intense would make him seem like a mental case. And of course, she’d be put off by a guy who’d say such things after one great night and one great kiss—though seriously the word “great” did not begin to cover it for him.
He knew he’d felt Bryn tense and try to slide away. He, like a goof, had thought she was having a bad dream. Now he knew it was because she’d thought she’d accidentally ended up with a desperate could-be psycho.
He needed to figure out the best way to redeem himself, if that was even possible. Should he just come out and directly apologize for how he must’ve seemed? Admit he’d crossed a line?
Should he beg her to give him another chance, to see him even just once more to see if they might have something? (Oh yeah, that sounded smart—because begging worked so well in relationships.)
Maybe a better plan would be to ignore his fears about what was bothering her, plunk himself down for breakfast and then casually ask if she wanted to do coffee or something over the holidays—only if it worked easily for her, of course. No stress. No biggie. (Right. Because he pulled off casual so casually.)
A smiling older couple in red toques and matching scarves approached, said hello, then climbed the stairs. “Are you coming in too?” the gentleman asked, holding the door open.
Sean guessed he couldn’t stall much longer. “Yes, thanks,” he said. He was scanning the room for Bryn even before the heavy oak door shut behind him.
He spotted her almost immediately, though she was well away from the massive communal table. She stood, back to the room, bowed over the phone. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but her body language made his jaw tense. Something was wrong.
Jo appeared at his elbow, carrying a platter stacked high with pancakes. “Good morning! I hope you slept comfortably after your harrowing evening.”
If only she knew how comfortably. “Wonderfully, thanks.”
Jo nodded but her gaze followed his toward Bryn. For a second, she looked mildly quizzical, but then she smiled. “There’s a coffee trolley near Bryn, or, if you hang tight for a second, I can fetch you a cup. Just seat yourself whenever you’re ready and dig in.”
“Thanks, Jo.” He glanced toward the coffee trolley, half a foot from where Bryn stood. Well, better now than never—and he was a coffee guy, always desperate for his first hit of the day.
Sean was careful not to crowd Bryn, who acknowledged his approach with a small nod before she refocused on her phone call, one arm crossed over her stomach like she was clutching it. He filled a large mug with coffee, then added a generous serving of cream.
“But Mom—” Bryn said, suddenly loud. She glanced over at the rest of the dining hall’s guests and lowered her voice. Sean tried not to feel like it was a good sign that she didn’t seem to mind if he overheard her. “Mom,” she repeated. “We’ve had these Christmas plans for six months. I took two weeks off work. It’s not fair to change them on a whim.”
She was quiet a moment, listening, then said, “It is so a big deal. To me.”
More silence on Bryn’s side—and a buzzing of chatter from her mother that Sean didn’t quite catch. He caught Bryn’s eye and noticed she was coffee free. He motioned at his mug and mouthed, “Want some?”
She bit her bottom lip so hard, white idents from her teeth showed. Then she nodded. He filled her a mug, then held up cream. Got another nod. He added a dollop, then held up sugar. She shook her head.
He placed her doctored cup within her reach on the trolley, then went to find two empty chairs at the table, hoping she’d join him.
As he walked away, he heard her speak again in a low, pain-filled voice, “But what about me? It’s five sleeps until Christmas. I drove all day yesterday. I’m only three hours away…”
Another pause, then a sad sounding, “Yes, I know Christmas is more fun spent with little kids, but no, sorry, I can’t make it work this time… I just can’t.”
Whatever did or didn’t get said next was lost on Sean, and while he hadn’t meant to invade Bryn’s privacy and she hadn’t seemed to be offended by his presence, he felt badly for overhearing her private family matters all the same. He sat down a good distance away from the other guests—the older couple who had entered with him, a mother with two teenage boys, and three middle-aged women who were laughing about how they stayed at River’s Sigh B & B so often they should be on the payroll.
“I wish we weren’t checking out today,” one of them added. “I’d like to stay here forever.” She dragged out the word “forever” like a kid would and Sean smiled, relating to how she felt.
He’d just helped himself to a cinnamon bun and said yes to Jo’s offer to do him up some bacon and eggs when Bryn appeared at his side, coffee in hand.
“Um,” she said, sounding apologetic. Instantly, Sean knew she wasn’t going to sit down. The spark of hope kindled by her approach fizzled into disappointment.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“No problem.”
“But about breakfast… I’m really sorry. It doesn’t work. I’ve got to… well, sort some stuff out.”
Nailed it, Sean thought, noting that even just twelve hours ago she would’ve shared the details, not said “stuff.” Last night had obviously been a one off. She’d only relaxed with him so fully, let her guard down so totally, because she thought she’d never see him again.
He stood up, wanting to kiss her once more, but settled for extending his hand. “It was really nice to meet you, Bryn. I meant—” He was about to say that he’d meant everything he said the previous night, but remembered his stupid marriage comment just in time. “Have a good Christmas, okay?”
Was it his imagination or did a fleeting look of disappointment flash in her eyes? Probably wishful thinking. She took his hand, hesitated just a moment, then shook it firmly.
“I…” She paused as if reconsidering whatever she’d been about to say, then simply said, “You have a good Christmas too. Good-bye, Sean.”
He tried and failed not to follow her with his eyes all the way back to the office doorway, where she spoke with Jo and Callum for a few minutes. Then she left the hall and headed into the wintery day.
Sean’s pity party at the final-seeming farewell was cut short when Callum arrived with the crispy bacon and sunny-side up eggs Jo had promised and news that the snow plow had been by. The highway was finally passable. It was his next words, however, that really pricked Sean’s interest.
“I volunteered to grab Bryn’s car for her since she’s decided to stay on for a bit. I’ll walk you to your truck if you want.”
So that was that. It really was bye-bye, Bryn. Sean tried to feel the gratitude he had the previous evening. He’d met a great person and had a great night—one that he’d remember forever. He should be happy, not dismal. The pep talk didn’t work.
Chapter 11
“That should be the last of it,” Callum said, putting a large basket of Christmas baking on the counter in Trout cabin. “Are you sure you’re only staying a week? You look like you’re moving in permanently.”
Bryn forced a smile she didn’t feel, thinking about all the goodies and gifts stored in the suitcases and boxes that surrounded her. “There was a change of plans. It was supposed to be a big family do, so I had a little something for everyone.”
Callum grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to poke a bruise.”
“No apologies necessary. Thank you so much for grabbing my car and helping me haul all this stuff in here.”
“No problem.” Callum pulled a square of ivory cardstock from his jacket pocket and handed it to Bryn. Curling ivy, holly and bells in soft shades of green, gold and crimson framed a schedule of events written in beautiful black cursive. “Jo and I usually go for a holiday this
time of year, but we decided we wanted to have Christmas at home for once. I think we got a bit carried away, but it should be fun. Please join in for any or all of the festivities.”
“The more the merrier?”
“Absolutely—and every event’s dog friendly, so feel free to bring Steve.”
Steve bounced around as if to say he heard the invitation and Bryn had better not forget it.
“He does think he’s the life of the party,” she said. Steve bounced higher and Callum chuckled. She thanked him again and moments later found herself alone once more.
Despite all the suitcases, bags and boxes cluttering the place, the cabin felt a little lonely. Nope, she would not go there. Yes, it had been extra cozy last night, but she would enjoy being on her own here just fine. She scanned the activities, thought they all looked like they’d be more fun with a partner, and shook her head at herself.
“You’re hopeless,” she scolded aloud, then propped the schedule beside the coffee maker and got busy. Soon a pile of shiny wrapped presents stood in one corner of the living room, a small stack of games decorated the coffee table, and the fridge and counter were bursting with tins of baked goods and homemade chocolates.
She remembered spying a large glass bowl in the cabin’s tall cupboard and dug it out. Inspired, she ran outside coatless and returned minutes later with sprigs of greenery she didn’t think the nearby trees would miss. She filled the bowl with vintage metal ornaments she had purchased for each of her sisters and nieces. Someone might as well get to enjoy them, right? She tucked bits of pine here and there, then added strands of curling ribbon. Stepping back, she admired her work. The result was eye-catching and fun and looked especially spectacular juxtaposed with the cabin’s stone and wood decor.
Next, Bryn rolled her suitcase into the bedroom and paused by the unmade bed. Wanting to kick herself for being so lame, but unable to resist, she lay down and rolled onto the side of the mattress Sean had slept on. She buried her face in the pillow his head had graced. Could she smell the faintest trace of him, or was she looney?
Knowing the answer to that, she climbed off the bed slowly and put her clothes away in the dresser, hung her one dress, then stashed her now empty suitcase and overnight bag in the closet.
Back in the kitchen, Bryn filched a chocolate covered cherry, her personal favorite and that of most of her nieces and nephews as well. She popped it into her mouth, then tossed a liver treat to eagerly awaiting Steve—at least one of them was feeling genuinely festive—and surveyed her work. It really was like she’d moved in.
Yes, things could’ve been worse, she thought, savoring the rich sweetness on her tongue. She could’ve gotten all the way to her parents’ house to find a note on the door: We’ve ditched you for a last-minute Christmas down south with Clara’s family.
At least staying here at River’s Sigh, Bryn didn’t feel hard done by. In fact, it was the reverse. It felt like she was giving herself the biggest Christmas present of her life. Plus, Jo had mentioned she and Callum were hosting a big Christmas dinner and had invited her. She wouldn’t even have to eat alone.
The bowl of ornaments twinkled in the light from the window. She looked over at the wrapped presents once more too. Everything was pretty, but she was missing something vital. She searched all the drawers and cabinets, but had no luck. She started the coffee maker so she’d have something to warm her up when she returned, then pulled her outdoor clothes on, sure that Callum and Jo would help her out.
Bryn opened the door, stepped onto the porch—and shrieked at the top of her lungs.
Hand on her heart, she took a deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry. You scared me half to death.”
For what it was worth, Sean looked equally startled. His arm was elevated, his hand frozen in an about-to-knock position. He lowered it and jammed his fists into his jeans’ pockets. Bryn noticed a large rolling duffel bag at his feet, in addition to the backpack that she recognized from last night. What on earth?
“I was on my way to find a pine branch or something to use for a makeshift Christmas tree,” Bryn blurted, then wanted to kick herself. Why would he care?
“Oh, yeah? Nice.”
She nodded and they both stood there awkwardly. Why was he here again? He should be in town having his truck fixed by now, or be at his friend’s house already.
“So… what’s up?”
Sean just nodded. Then he suddenly straightened and squared his shoulders. “I, uh, just wanted to let you know I’ve had a change of plans too. After waiting for a tow for three hours, then getting my truck hooked up and dragged into a garage in Greenridge, which took another hour, I finally got to talk to a mechanic—and they don’t have the part I need. Apparently, a massive tree stump kept me from going off into the river—and snapped my drive shaft. They can’t get another one in until after Christmas. There’s a used one at the wreckers, but if I have to shell out money for repairs, I’d rather go with parts that will have warranty.”
Bryn nodded, unsure of how any of this pertained to her or explained why he was on her doorstep—not that she minded that he was, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up either.
“So then I called the buddy I was going to be staying with and it turns out his mom had a bad fall.”
“Oh no! Is she all right?”
Sean nodded. “She’ll be okay, but understandably he wants to fly out to be with her—normally, his family does Christmas in July when the travel is better for everyone. And my sister, her kids and my mom are already headed for their all-inclusive in Mexico, which I declined to take part in, so…”
“So you’re here?”
He nodded and she wondered feverishly what he thought her use of “here” meant. Was he expecting, asking, to stay with her again? Although part of her salivated at the idea, the sane—sober!—part of herself said no, no, no. It would be like voluntarily ripping her heart out of her chest and throwing it on the floor for him to stomp on.
Sean said something else, but lost in her own obsessive thoughts, Bryn only caught the last bit, “so it wouldn’t be weird.”
“Sorry, what?”
His brow furrowed.
She bit her lip. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Oh, I just said that I ended up renting a car and arranging to stay here at River’s Sigh over the holidays. I’ll be in a cabin called Rainbow. I wanted to give you the heads up, so if we ran into each other, it wouldn’t be weird.”
He shifted his weight foot to foot, then cleared his throat. Bryn didn’t understand why he looked so uncomfortable. Maybe he was trying to say, without so many words, that he’d be around but didn’t want her to get the wrong idea or to take it as a sign of him being interested or something?
“Look, Sean,” she said, aiming to sound cool and collected—then noticed her stupid hands were shaking. “I know last night was… nothing. I don’t have any expectations about seeing each other or anything, and I won’t hold you to your marriage proposal. Relax.” She meant the latter as a joke and hoped it came out lightly, not pathetically.
His eyebrow popped up and he scrubbed his stubble-rough chin. “So you did hear all that?”
She nodded and felt her cheeks burn despite the chilly air.
“But you thought I was the one who regretted the evening?”
“Yes, no… I don’t know—but either way, it doesn’t matter. It—us—wouldn’t work.” She noticed their breath was making little white clouds.
Sean looked flummoxed. “Why not?” Before she could answer, he added, “So you would be interested in seeing me if I was interested in seeing you?”
Yes! cheered part of Bryn. You can’t, whispered another part. He’s still young and he values family, children. He deserves the whole package, not some half woman. Bryn pressed her fists to her eyes, knowing she was probably smearing mascara all over her face, but not caring.
“What time will your cabin be ready?” she finally asked.
Sean studied her, looking concerned. “J
o said three o’clock-ish—so in an hour or so.”
“We should talk inside then. It’s freezing out here.” Resigned, she stepped back and opened the door a crack. Now she wouldn’t even get to remember the past night as one perfect little gem because it would always be linked to the scene about to unfold, the one where she disclosed her infertility and he, understandably, said she was right, that they wouldn’t work long term. Ciao, Bryn.
Chapter 12
The cabin was toasty warm and smelled deliciously of freshly cut pine and brewed coffee. Sean glanced around, unable to believe the changes in the cabin from the last time he’d seen it, just that morning. It was still gorgeous and cozy, but it looked… lived in, cared for, appreciated—and by some sweet homemaking goddess with great taste.
Bryn, though obviously just stashing stuff she’d planned to take to her family, had wrapped and stacked things in a way that would’ve suited any glossy magazine’s “Home for Christmas” spread. He agreed she needed a tree though. Maybe when she got whatever was bugging her off her chest, she’d let him help get one.
As she peeled off her coat and boots, he tried to express his admiration of her talent. “You’re an amazing homemaker, so how come you don’t have a family of your own by now? Didn’t you want one?”
He would’ve given his left hand to take the words back when he saw the expression that crossed her face. Then she laughed bitterly—the first such note he’d ever heard from her mouth—and changed his mind. He would’ve given both hands.
“Ironically, that’s what I need to tell you, what will explain why seeing each other is a waste of time.”
Without asking if he wanted one, she poured them each a coffee and fixed his how he liked it. She must’ve been paying him more attention earlier that morning than he thought.
She held her mug in a tight two-handed grip, but didn’t take a sip. Instead she explained her failed marriage and what she blamed for its demise: herself, her inability to conceive and carry a child.
