Cole's Christmas Wish

by Tracy Madison

  See? Not alike. In any friggin’ way whatsoever.

  “I was going to call, but that felt too impersonal.” Her voice shook, a little, on that part. “Especially considering our conversation last night. So...I waited until I could come here, to see you and tell you in person. That was important to me, Cole.”

  Buzz, buzz, buzz went his brain again. What in blazes were his instincts trying to tell him?

  “Why are you leaving?” he asked, hoping her answer would give him a clue. “Did something happen that has upset you? Or...?”

  “I’m fine.” She blinked twice. Paused. Then blinked three times. “It’s my parents.”

  Ah. Well, that required zero explanation. Now, he understood the shaky voice, the hollow eyes and her tiredness. “Sweetheart, you have to stop letting them do this to you. Why don’t you stay here, as you originally planned?”

  “I...can’t. This time is different,” she said stubbornly. “I have to go. They need me and I...well, I need to be there. In New York. With them. So...please try to understand.”

  His heart cracked in two.

  “I do understand. You love your parents. Enough said.” True, that. What he didn’t comprehend was why two people had stayed together for so long when they continued to make each other, and their daughter, miserable. Rounding the counter, he opened his arms, needing to hold her one more time until the next time. Whenever that time was. “Come here, then, darlin’.”

  Emotion filled her eyes for a split second, so fast that Cole almost missed it. She was hurting, probably thinking of her parents and all they were going through. He had to admit that he wished he’d listened to Haley and had kidnapped Rachel days ago.

  It would have solved everything. She’d be safe with him. He’d see to that. And his heart wouldn’t feel as if someone had beaten it with a sledgehammer.

  In another second, Rachel filled his arms. She was soft and warm and smelled like she always did, and Cole never wanted to let her go. So, he did the next best thing, the only thing he could do in this particular space of time, minutes before she walked out of his life again. He held her close to him and cherished the moment, fleeting as it was, with every beat of his heart.

  When they separated, Cole cradled her face with his hands and looked deep into her eyes, bent forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Rachel. Promise me.”

  “I will. You do the same.”

  Emotion clogged his throat. Words seemed impossible. He nodded in reply, then walked her to the door and stood there, watching, until he couldn’t see her any longer. Hell. Just...hell.

  He ached, missing her already. Missed Rachel in the same desperate way Cole assumed he’d miss one of his limbs, or his hearing, or his eyesight. It was an intrinsic loss, deep and painful and unrelenting. Swearing under his breath, he stepped away from the door.

  And a bolt of lightning hit him square between the shoulder blades. Metaphorically speaking, of course. There was something else he’d missed...not in an emotional sense, but in the physical. Andrew. Where the hell was Andrew? He hadn’t come inside with Rachel, and he hadn’t been in the car waiting for her... Cole had seen Rachel drive away, in a car, by herself.

  So where was the man she professed to love? Cole couldn’t believe Andrew would stay at the house here in Steamboat Springs if Rachel was headed back to New York. No, the man wouldn’t do that. Staying here wouldn’t be sensible, and from what Cole had seen and heard, Andrew was a very sensible man.

  That meant...Andrew was not in Steamboat Springs. He’d already returned to New York. But when had he returned? Earlier today, yesterday, last week?

  The buzzing in Cole’s brain got louder, stronger, even more insistent. Andrew wasn’t with Rachel. Andrew wasn’t with Rachel. Oh, hell.

  Andrew wasn’t with Rachel.

  Chapter Twelve

  After putting the car in gear, Rachel eased onto the road. Emotion roiled in her stomach, sending waves of nausea through her body. Tightening her trembling fingers around the steering wheel, she mentally straightened her spine and forced herself not to turn the car around.

  Not to run back to Cole with her heart in her hands.

  God, she wanted to. The idea compelled her, pulled at her, pleaded with her to take a freaking chance. But...she just couldn’t. Too scary, for one thing. Way too damn scary.

  And for another, this trip home was necessary. Her parents really did need her.

  Besides which, what good would staying in Steamboat Springs serve, anyway? Nothing would change with Cole. He’d made that perfectly clear last night, when he’d said, “What I can forgive my friends for is a fair bit different than what I can forgive my potential wife for. I made a mistake thinking otherwise.”

  Those words, the tenor and cadence of his voice, the firm set of his jaw and the determination all but gleaming in his eyes, refused to leave her brain. Or her heart.

  So, no. Staying wouldn’t serve to make anything better, or easier. It would only make her feel worse—more wounded, more sad, more lonely, more everything than she already felt right now. Easier—so much easier—to flee from here, from Cole, and rebuild her strength before returning, before once again embarking on another game of pretend: that she only thought of Cole as her friend. Her freaking forever friend.

  “Friendship isn’t so bad,” she whispered to herself. “He’s an amazing friend.”

  And he was. Somehow, though, his friendship—having only his friendship—no matter how amazing, seemed akin to one of those consolation prizes you won in a contest.

  She yearned for the blue ribbon.

  The twinkling Christmas lights lining the street blurred beneath another unwanted layer of pouring tears. Today, all she seemed to do was cry. She angrily wiped the wetness from her cheeks and tried to regain her earlier businesslike attitude. She couldn’t. Not when she felt as if she had lost...everything that meant anything.

  Dammit all! She’d so wanted to spend Christmas here, in Steamboat Springs, with Cole. She’d spent a childhood of Christmases here, after all. With him. Those Christmases she wasn’t here had never felt right or complete. Hadn’t even seemed real.

  Okay, she was going home. To New York, where her parents waited. Where she was needed. Except...well, New York wasn’t her home. This—Steamboat Springs—was her home. Hadn’t she always known that, in some form or fashion?

  And then somehow, out of nowhere, the stupid vase Cole had given her whipped into her mind, and the image of it sitting on her desk brought about another rush of tears. Why had she left it there? She... No. She had to have the vase with her. She couldn’t leave the gift Cole had bought her here, when she was in New York.

  How could she live without seeing it, holding it, every day? Without having the physical reminder of his words, of how the color of the flowers had reminded him—

  Out of nowhere, a feeling of peace enveloped Rachel. It wasn’t the vase she couldn’t live without—it was Cole. Love flowed through her as she thought about Cole’s hug, the warmth and security of being in his arms, the way he’d looked at her when he held her face in his hands.

  Cole was her home. And he lived here, so yes, that was why Steamboat Springs had always felt more her home than anywhere else she’d ever lived, had ever traveled to.

  Rachel breathed in deeply. Okay, what was she going to do with these revelations? She needed a minute to think, to... She pulled into the first gas station she came to and threw t
he car into Park. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead atop the steering wheel and took in another deep breath. She couldn’t live without Cole.

  The silly, silly man who’d created a girlfriend in order to romance her and had never come clean with her. He’d had more than enough chances to admit his lie, but he hadn’t. Not even after she’d finally found the courage to discuss their past, her reasons for leaving...her mistake in not returning. Of course, he...

  Well, he likely thought she loved Andrew. She hadn’t told him the truth about that, or that she’d figured out his game. Was she any better?

  Oh, Lord. She had to go back. She had to give him—them—one more chance. How could she not? If she didn’t, would she one day find herself in the same type of relationship as her parents? How close had she come to that with Andrew?

  The thought was startling.

  Rachel squared her shoulders. For once, her parents would have to wait. She’d always made them her top priority, running when they called, listening to their venting, bending to their requests. All the while, she’d never been able to help them. Not really.

  Because they had to help themselves. That was their job, not hers.

  Dropping the car into Drive, knowing she really had no other choice—not if she didn’t want to spend the next four years mired in regret—she pulled back onto the road, heading in the opposite direction. Toward home.

  Toward Cole.

  And, she hoped, toward a future worth risking everything for.

  * * *

  Cole strode to the office, where Haley was gathering her belongings to leave. “Sorry, kid, but I’m going to need you to stay and close tonight. Don’t argue, just nod and say yes.”

  Nodding, Haley said, “Yes. But...why?”

  “Rachel’s on her way to the airport, set on returning to New York,” he said quickly, knowing his sister would understand his urgency. He pulled on his coat and shoved his hands in his pockets, searching for his keys. “I have to stop her before she gets on her plane.”

  “Oh!” His sister squealed. “This is so romantic. It’s like one of those movies where the guy chases the girl to the airport, but he gets there just as the plane is taking off. He’s sad because he missed his great opportunity to tell her—” Haley stopped. Stared at Cole and wrinkled her nose. “Wait a minute. Why is she leaving so soon?”

  “Long story.” Dammit all. Where had he put his keys?

  “Did you do something to upset her?”

  His gaze swung around the room. “Have you seen my keys?”

  “Nope, can’t say that I have.” She gave him a quizzical look, complete with squinty eyes and puckered lips. “Seriously, what did you do to her?”

  “Nothing! I...I’m not quite sure what’s happening, but something is.” He shook his head, frustrated and anxious. “Help me find my keys. Or give me yours. Please.”

  Haley glanced over his shoulder, and her mouth split into a wide grin. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “Of course it’s necessary. I need keys to drive. I need to drive to get to the airport. If I don’t—” He stopped. Breathed. And listened to his senses.

  Rachel. She was here. Right behind him. He knew that without question, without any hesitation. The buzzing in his brain subsided, his muscles relaxed and he inhaled a long, cleansing breath of relief. Everything might just be okay, after all.

  “Welcome back, sweetheart,” he said without turning around.

  “It was the vase,” Rachel said to Cole’s back in thick, halting syllables. “That silly little squat vase you had to go and buy for me. That’s why I’m here.”

  Facing her now, Cole nodded as if her words made perfect sense. They didn’t. He couldn’t care less what had brought her back. The fact was that she was here, right now, with him. And that meant he hadn’t lost his chance.

  Still, he went with it, saying, “I like the vase, Rach. I thought of you the second I saw it.”

  “Yes,” she said in a whisper, looking far too serious and confused for his liking. “You...ah...mentioned that. But I’m here for... We need to—”

  “Did I mention how the color of the flowers—the ones painted along the bottom—are the exact same shade of blue as your eyes?”

  Her chin dipped in a slow, jerky nod, but a curious glint entered her gaze. Better. “Yes. You mentioned that, as well.”

  “Good. I thought I had,” he said, slowing his cadence to a drawl. “I should also mention that your eyes tend to change colors based on your emotions.”

  One eyebrow arched. “You should mention that, huh?” she asked, no longer sounding weak or hesitant. In fact, she sounded downright spunky. Better yet. “Now?”

  “Hmm. Yes.” Cole took a step toward her. Stared into the eyes he loved so much. “See, right now, I wouldn’t be able to say the color is an exact match to those flowers. Right now, your eyes are a good bit darker than normal. So, Rach, I have to ask—” he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the soft, fragile area beneath her eyes “—what are you feeling at this very second?”

  Blink, blink, blink. “Really, Cole? That’s what you want to know?”

  “I do,” he said matter-of-factly. “And that’s a fact.”

  Suddenly, those eyes darkened another shade. “I see. A fact, huh? You know a lot about facts, don’t you? Meaning, you have no issues determining fact from fiction, correct?”

  “Fiction as in novels, darlin’?”

  “Fiction as in games of pretend,” she shot back. “Such as, oh...I don’t know...make-believe friends. Or, in your case, girlfriends? Or at least, girlfriend? Are you familiar with that concept, Cole?”

  Her words shocked him. She knew? Well, hell. “Um.”

  She tapped her foot. “Um?”

  Probably, he should beg for forgiveness. Later, he probably would. Right now, though, he decided to play this moment out for all of its worth. “Well, pretend girlfriends have a lot going for them, Rach. They don’t chatter incessantly, or expect you to give up your night out with the guys.” He ran his hand over his jaw, grinned. “Yeah. Fact is, I can see lots of reasons why a man might think a pretend girlfriend is better than a real one.”

  Her chin lifted an inch. “You, Cole Foster, are an idiot. Why—”

  “Right, I am. A man in love often behaves idiotically,” he said, grinning wider when her jaw snapped shut.

  She regained her bearing fast. “Only an idiot, whether he’s in love or not, would think creating a pretend girlfriend is the way to...romance another woman. Because yeah, that is so much better than being open and honest and—oh, I don’t know—communicating!”

  “You’re absolutely right. Communicating would have been the better choice. But I’m curious, darlin’. How long have you known? Because I don’t recall any discussion of that sort.”

  He winked. Waited. His mind replayed the last several days. She’d known for a while, he’d bet money on it. And she’d used that knowledge to turn his game on him.

  It was, he decided, rather humorous.

  Though she didn’t appear amused. Tapping her foot harder, she glowered. “How long have I known that I’m Mary, otherwise known as Cupcake—which is, by the way, a ludicrous name to call a woman, even a pretend woman—and that you’ve been messing with my head—not to mention my heart—ever since I arrived in Steamboat Springs?” Retreating a step, she angled her arms over her chest. “Is that what you mean?”

  Nope, not amused. This was not the same woman
who’d walked in here. Well, she was here, and he’d take her—any which way or the other—but this woman was really annoyed with him. And hell, he couldn’t blame her. He’d started the fiasco.

  It was such an old cliché, but she was beautiful when she was angry. And frankly, while he’d prefer her happy, her shooting nails—even if they were aimed at his head—was better than confused. “Yes, darlin’, that’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Why, you—” Pausing, she bit her bottom lip. “What if I told you that I discovered this little fact the day after Andrew and I went our separate ways and he returned to New York?”

  “I already figured out that Andrew left,” he said lightly. In truth, he was as happy as all get-out to hear confirmation. “I just don’t know when he left. Mind filling in the blank spots for me?”

  She looked at him, blinked—he was really going to have to ask her if she needed glasses—and darn if her lips didn’t twitch, just a little. Okay, anger was giving way to...well, he didn’t know what, but he had a feeling they were headed down a path he wanted to be on.

  Had waited for years to be on.

  “Hmm. Let me see,” she said, her voice just this side of husky. “It might have been...no, it wasn’t that day.” She paused, her lips twitched a bit more. “No wait, gee, it wasn’t that day, either. Gosh, Cole,” she said in an oh-so-innocent manner, “I simply just don’t remember.”

  “Tell me when Andrew left, and I’ll...give you a present,” he cajoled with a teasing grin. Why he cared so much, he didn’t know. But he had to know. “I have ten of them at home with your name on it.”

  She arched a brow. “My name or Mary’s name? Or did you use ‘Cupcake’?”

  “Your name.” Cole put his hand on his heart. “Honest. Only yours.”

  Those words softened her mouth and brought a glimmer of satisfaction to her smile. “Andrew left last Sunday morning. We... I realized he wasn’t the man for me on Saturday. Realized, also, that I’d known that for quite a while.”