by Ev Bishop
“What? Why?”
But he found he couldn’t speak at first. Instead of stepping away, however, like he knew he should, he pulled her to his chest, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his face in her soft, fragrant hair.
She held him, patting his back and rubbing it soothingly. Eventually though, she shifted and he was forced to release her.
“What is it? Who was that?”
“Gemma. My ex,” he said brokenly—although, of course, Bryn knew all about Gemma already.
Bryn’s brow furrowed. “And?”
“Well, as you know, we haven’t seen each other or even spoken in more than six months, but—” He had no idea how to continue and faltered. He hated the concern on Bryn’s sweet face, knowing it was for him. Her body, arms loose by her sides, was leaned forward slightly, so open and receptive to him—and he was going to hurt her, though it was the last thing he’d willingly do.
“Gemma’s having… a baby. My baby. She says a paternity test will prove it, if I have any doubts. She wants us to… try again, to raise him together.”
Bryn literally folded. Her chin dropped to her chest. Her shoulders bowed. Her arms clutched her stomach as if she’d received a physical blow and she huddled over, bending from the waist.
Chapter 17
Steve whined at Bryn’s feet, anxiously following her around the cabin as she took down all the decorations, piece by piece, crushing some, throwing others in the trash. Then she put all the stuff for her family out of sight in the big kitchen cabinet. She. Was. An. Idiot. She’d only known Sean for a pittance of time. How, how, how could she feel like this at his news that he was leaving her?
And of course he was leaving her. She’d never really had him. They’d been playing pretend and she’d been a fool to hope. And an even bigger fool to believe those pretty things he said about not necessarily needing a family.
Now he would have one. Without her. And the worst part? She couldn’t even be furious with him, only heartbroken. If he was the kind of man who would just ignore the news he was going to be a father, regardless of when or why he and the mother had broken up, he wouldn’t be the guy she found so attractive, so honorable, so easy to—
The thought she could hardly bear to finish shocked her, but also summed up the worst of it. Somehow, in a mere week, she had come to love stupid Sean Carson.
One last decoration hung above her head out of reach, swinging lightly as if to mock her: the ridiculously hopeful ball of mistletoe she purchased on her shopping excursion with Sean. Bryn grabbed a broom and knocked the taunting greenery to the floor, then opened the cabin door and threw it out into the dark night.
She wanted to go one step further—to take the broom outside and destroy every one of those stupid sweet snowmen, but she’d overheard a couple of children visiting River’s Sigh saying how “awesome” they were. Decapitated snowman wouldn’t be very merry, and she didn’t want their Christmas morning to be disturbing.
She closed the door with a quiet calmness that belied the sorrow and disappointment raging through her. Then she poured herself a mugful of port. It wouldn’t be missed by Jo and Callum—and she wouldn’t be attending Christmas dinner the next day, no how, no way. Knowing sleep was futile, but hoping for its sweet oblivion regardless, she retreated to the lonely bedroom.
Bryn was right. Sleep refused to come, even when her first mug of port became a quickly drained second one. She sat wide awake in the darkness, wrapped in a shroud of blankets, reliving every moment with Sean and replaying their many conversations and his kind, genuine words. And sometime in the later hours of the night, she had an epiphany.
She had been foolish in the years since Brad ended their marriage. Instead of focusing on all the ways she felt she didn’t measure up and was a “failure,” she should’ve concentrated on all she had to give: love, kindness, loyalty, pleasure…
It hurt like heck that Sean had triggered this realization and awakened all this hope and desire within her when he wouldn’t be on the receiving end of her new awareness, but she wouldn’t continue to let disappointment, bitterness or low self-esteem keep her from living life to its fullest.
She didn’t think she’d ever “get over” Sean, so to speak, and she didn’t want to. She wanted to remember the wonder and joy he’d kindled, and she vowed—raising her empty mug in a toast for emphasis—that she would remain open to the possibility of love and change and surprises.
Chapter 18
The rental car was peppy and the road was heavily salted and scraped down to almost bare pavement. Considering the trip that had gotten him to River’s Sigh, Sean could hardly believe how easy it was to backtrack—and with every passing kilometer, he felt sicker and sicker with himself. With what he’d done without question: fallen into his old pattern instantly, pretty much asking how high when Gemma said “Jump.”
Why had he caved to Gemma, without a second thought? Yes, he believed the child she was carrying was his because Gemma was a lot of things, including smart. She wouldn’t bluff about something so easy to disprove. On the other hand, now that he had experienced being with someone who brought out—and appreciated—the best in him, he saw Gemma’s demands in a whole new light.
She had insisted that talking in person couldn’t wait until after Christmas, but even that was a familiar emotional trick. He’d been pulled in by her urgency. Again. After hours of driving and getting to process things, however, he realized it wasn’t an emergency. She had known she was pregnant for almost eight months, but hadn’t felt a need to enlighten him—had probably been trying to wrangle a way to get Marcus back the whole time and only called Sean when she’d given up. He could take some time to think. He pulled over at a 24-hour gas station on the highway, got himself a coffee and settled into a booth.
What was he doing? No, better question: what was he going to do?
He wanted to be with Bryn, but what bothered him more than being parted from her, was the fact that he’d hurt her badly. The knowledge cut so deeply it felt like he was bleeding internally. But even if he didn’t have a chance with Bryn, or, to be precise, no longer had a chance with her (and who would blame her?), going back to Gemma was the wrong decision.
Right now, Gemma felt vulnerable—or maybe she did. More likely her ego was bruised because this Marcus guy jilted her, before he even knew that it wasn’t his baby. She wanted someone to make her feel better, and Sean fit the bill. He was a known entity, dependable, controllable… or he had been. It’s always easy to manipulate someone who actually gives a damn.
Even the way she’d proposed getting back together had been telling. “So that’s that. With Marcus out of the picture and my, our, baby due soon, I thought you and I should give it a shot. Try, at least.”
No word about love. No apology for how she’d ended things, or for not telling him she was carrying his son until the little guy was almost ready to step out into the world. Not even a pretense of remorse for cheating.
I thought you and I should give it a shot. Try, at least.
Bryn’s guileless gray-eyed gaze filled his mind. Then her tenuous smile. He heard her voice, with its heart-on-her-sleeve hope when he’d said he didn’t know if he needed kids, that being with the right person was more important. “Are you sure?” she’d asked.
“I’m sure,” he had said. And he was.
He stood up and left, leaving his coffee where it sat, along with a five-dollar bill. Back in his rental car, under the glaring light from the gas station sign, he pulled out his cellphone and turned it on. Five full bars of service—the only reason he was grateful to not be at River’s Sigh B & B at the moment.
It was after three in the morning, but it couldn’t wait.
She answered on the first ring and didn’t sound groggy in the slightest. “Where are you?”
“On the highway, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m not returning to town right away. I have obligations here.”
“You have obligations? There’s something more im
portant than the birth of your son.”
“Easy on the drama, Gemma. You already told me you’re not due until the end of January.”
She snorted impatiently, and he sighed, genuinely sad. Unlike Bryn, Sean hadn’t spent a lot of time daydreaming about kids—yet if he had, he would’ve assumed their births would be a source of joy, of celebration. Never in a million years would he have thought of himself as the kind of man who would willingly choose to not stay with the mother of his child. Then again, he’d always imagined something different between him and Gemma than what was.
He recalled all the times she’d declared it was over and had kicked him out or left herself. He re-heard the abuse she’d hurled at him.
His mind flashed on the final lesson, Marcus—though perhaps there’d been other men before Marcus that Sean just hadn’t known about.
And then he imagined their child having to watch the same horror show and certainty welled deep in his gut. Being a stable, solid father was the best thing he could do for his child. He would be someone his son could always depend on, always go to or stay with, regardless of what went on with Gemma.
And in keeping with that, he was going to do the best he could for himself, too. He hoped—oh man, how he hoped—that Bryn would forgive him and keep seeing him, but whether he got to be with her or not, going forward, he would live by his principles and ideals, even if it meant being alone.
Sean spoke gently. “Gemma, I’ll always be there for our son and for you as his mother, and I hope we can arrange some sort of custody agreement that suits us both. I realize while he’s very young, my visits might have to be short—”
“What?” she asked, like there was something wrong with their connection—and yes, of course there was. There always had been.
“I’ll always support you,” he repeated, “financially and emotionally, but we won’t be a couple. We’re, as you’ve pointed out many, many times, not right for each other. I’m not what you want or need. I don’t make you happy.”
“If you want to be part of this kid’s life, you better think and act carefully right now.” Gemma’s voice was blade sharp. Yelling and guilt-invoking comments would come next.
Sean almost laughed. Gemma’s go to moves were so transparent now. How had he not seen through them before?
A feeling of lightness moved through him, despite his sorrow over hurting Bryn, his longing for a future with her, and his questions about what was next for him. True strength involved patience and devotion and working to make things better in a lot of situations—but not in every one. Sometimes it also meant letting go of things you couldn’t fix, accepting failure and trying to do better in the future.
Whether he was fortunate enough to end up with Bryn or not, he was free. “I’m already part of our baby’s life,” he said, “and I’ll keep my word to him and to you, but now I need to go. I’ll call you on Boxing Day. There’s someone I have to see. Right now.”
Chapter 19
Bryn must’ve fallen asleep after all because very late in the night, or extremely early in the morning, a loud clattering noise at the door jolted her awake. It took a second to orientate herself. Then the events of the past evening rushed back, causing a fresh flood of tears that made her aware of how swollen, scratchy and painful her eyes were. She remembered her vow, to be open to love. It would be a comfort eventually, but right now she just felt bereft. She pulled a pillow over her face, hoping the loud person who obviously had some Christmas surprise in store for the wrong cabin would just go away. The knocking only continued, however, even more energetically.
Dragging the bed’s top sheet with her as an impromptu robe, Bryn stumbled to the front door, ready to send the intrusive knocker on their way, with the reassurance that it was fine, that she didn’t mind being woken up. Lie. Lie. Lie.
She opened the door a sliver—and all planned response slid away. She fell back, retreating silently, sure she was having a misery and port fueled dream.
The dream followed her into the living room, however. And mimicked her motions, sitting in the chair as she sank onto the couch. Steve must’ve sensed all was not right because although he’d slept through the knocking, he appeared now and looked gravely up at her. Then he jumped up onto the couch and wedged himself against her thigh.
Still no one spoke.
And Bryn really wasn’t one hundred percent sure she wasn’t just dreaming—or having a nightmare.
“Bryn,” the apparition said gruffly—and Bryn saw that the tired, sad-eyed man before her really was Sean, not some conjuring of her pathetic mind.
She opened her mouth, but was tongue-tied. Why was he here? It had been agony enough to say good-bye the one time. They shouldn’t drag it out—and if he was going to ask if they could be friends? She shook her head mutely. Maybe it was unkind, but she didn’t think it would work. The mind was willing, but her flesh—her heart—was weak.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t wait for a more decent hour. I had to know…”
Bryn shook her head again, unable to be stupid enough to hope once more.
“I should never have left. I should never have let you think, should never have even hinted at the notion, that I would ever leave you—unless you wanted me to.”
Bryn shook her head for a third time. “But what about—” She could hardly squeeze the words out. “Your baby… your son?”
Sean looked down at his feet, then scrubbed his face with both hands. When he finally glanced up, his eyes were so flat, his expression so miserable, that he was almost unrecognizable. “I know I’m asking a lot, or maybe even an impossible thing… but regardless of what you decide, I won’t be going back to Gemma. I will do my best to be a good dad—but alone.”
“I—I don’t know what you’re saying, what you’re asking.”
Sean moved from the chair and kneeled in front of her. “I’m saying that I know it’s too soon and it’s kind of crazy, but I love you. And I’m asking if you’ll take a risk on a complicated guy with a future that’s only looking more complicated. Actually, I’m begging. Will you please take me back, Bryn? Give us another chance. A real chance.”
Bryn tried to answer, to say something, but only managed a dry croak—and Sean staved off even that by raising his hand.
“Wait. Before you say anything, you need to know I’m really asking you about forever. It’s too early to ask you to marry me—but the question is coming. Or that’s my goal. If things between us keep progressing, if you end up feeling the way I do…”
All the pieces Bryn had felt herself break into over the past twenty-four hours knit back together in her chest. A smile tugged at her insides and pulled at her lips. “Before I answer you, I just have to ask… Are you drunk?”
Sean looked startled, then laughed, his eyes full of an emotion that made Bryn’s heart squeeze. “I guess that depends on what you say next.” He rested his hands on her flannel-clad knees.
“Yes, I’ll ‘take you back.’ Of course, I will. I never wanted to get rid of you in the first place.”
“In that case, I confess. I am drunk… Hammered, in fact. On happiness.”
She laughed softly, then gasped a little when Sean stood abruptly, grabbing her hands and pulling her up, too. “Come on. There’s something we need to do.”
“What?”
“You’ll see.” He tugged the sheet off her, so she wore only her tank top and sleep pants, then put his boots on and motioned for her to do the same. “Don’t bother with your jacket. You won’t need it.”
“What on earth?” But her protest was cut off as he opened the door and pulled her into the brisk, shivery light of Christmas morning.
Dropping her hand as they neared the first snowman he’d built for her, Sean stooped to retrieve something—a bedraggled but still pretty piece of greenery, adorned with tiny silver bells. Bryn recognized it immediately. She flushed with giddy heat as Sean lifted the mistletoe, once discarded, now reclaimed, over their heads.
Her
heart lurched as he bent in and kissed her—so sweetly, so tenderly—and he was right. She didn’t need her coat. Her whole body was aflame.
The mistletoe fell with a soft sigh to the snow-packed trail as Sean’s arms went around her, pulling her close. The air was cold, the falling snow, gentle—but his lips and his touch were anything but. His tongue claiming hers was as hot as the joy blazing through her heart and coursing through her limbs.
Epilogue
River’s Sigh B & B was as remote and private as Bryn always remembered it—and the light-strung paths leading off in various directions to each cabin were just as magical. In a weird way, her now annual sojourn here always felt like a homecoming of sorts, and she guessed it was. She’d met the heart of her family here, after all.
As if hearing her thoughts, Sean glanced her way from the driver’s seat and slid one hand off the steering wheel. Lacing his fingers through hers, he brought their linked hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“Oh gross, get a room,” ten-year-old Drew piped up cheerfully from the backseat, causing Bryn and Sean’s seven-year-old twin daughters in the middle bench to chime in concerned unison, “But we already have a room, right, Mom? We have a room.”
White-muzzled old Steve stood up from where he was cuddled between the girls and did an anxious stiff-legged jig, as if he was just as fussed by the notion there might not be a reservation as they were.
Bryn stifled a laugh. “Yes, we have a room. In fact, we have more than one. Just like last year. We have a whole little cabin.”
There was a shared sigh of almost exaggerated relief from both girls and Anya added in an arch tone, “We have a room, Drew.”
“Yeah,” said Sunny with emphasis.
“I know that, silly. It was an expression,” said Drew, but his tone held no malice. He had been thrilled by Anya and Sunny’s arrival, which gave him adored big brother status—most of the time.
