by Shirley Jump
All across America, new parents were doing this same thing. Standing in a dim nursery, watching their sleeping baby, a little universe of just the three of them. If she and Nick were married, she could, for a split second, imagine that this was their life. Their family.
Her heart filled, a rush of emotion so strong, tears threatened her eyes and her throat thickened. Vivian Winthrop had gone most of her life trying not to make connections, because she’d learned early on that the love of others could disappear as quickly as a storm cloud. She didn’t get attached, didn’t start to care, didn’t let her heart open. Until this week with Nick and Ellie.
He’d made her believe in things she’d convinced herself were fictional. And worse, he’d made her want those very things for herself.
“She really is beautiful,” Vivian whispered. “And impossible not to love.”
“If she were ours...” Nick began, then shook his head, as if speaking the words aloud would create something he didn’t want to breathe to life.
“Yeah,” Vivian said. “But she isn’t.”
His hand slid over to cover hers. His fingers were warm, strong. “I never realized how much I was missing out on until you and Ellie came into my life.”
“I was thinking the same thing just now.” She turned to face him. Maybe it was the dim light, or the moment, or the dinner date, but for just tonight, Vivian didn’t want to be her usual cautious, closed-off self. If you stay with me, it gives me an excuse to hang some lights and make some eggnog and cookies and have the kind of holiday normal people have, Nick had said a week ago. She had gone along with the plan then, mostly out of desperation. Now, they had a tree in the back of the truck and a box of decorations to hang, and the rest of the wine to drink while Christmas carols played in the background. “Tonight, Nick, let’s just pretend.”
“Pretend what?”
“That...this is our baby, and our first Christmas and...that there’s an us.” That he wasn’t with her out of an agreement or because of Ellie, but because he wanted her and wanted to be with her forever.
“I think that’s a great idea because I really want there to be an us right now,” he said. Nick leaned over and kissed her, then took her hand, and the two of them headed downstairs. While she put on the radio and poured the wine, Nick brought in the tree.
She held the door for him, ushering in a chilly breeze. Vivian had yet to change out of her dress, and she stood in the doorway, shivering. “Hurry up. It’s cold out here.”
“I can’t believe that because you’re looking mighty hot.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, now that’s the corniest thing you’ve ever said.” But she laughed anyway, as the tree spearheaded the way down the hall, and Nick pressed another quick kiss to her lips as he passed by.
Bing Crosby was singing “White Christmas” on the radio as Nick set the tree into the stand in the living room, then pulled out a pocketknife and cut off the netting. The branches sprung out, casting a spray of needles on the floor. Nick adjusted the stand, pulling it away from the wall to give the tree more room. “Do you want me to straighten it so it doesn’t look so lopsided?”
Vivian shook her head. “You’re right. It’s better because it’s not perfect.” This entire week with Ellie had been imperfect, filled with a couple bumps and detours, and yet, right now, Vivian wouldn’t change a thing. The forced day off and the time with the baby had begun to loosen the bonds and expectations that had guided her life for nearly thirty years, and it hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected. The world hadn’t imploded, and she hadn’t ended up heartbroken. At least, not yet. She handed Nick a glass of wine. “Where do we start?”
“Here,” he said, then kissed her again. This time, he lingered, his kiss deep and true and tasting of chardonnay. She curved into his arms, arching into his chest, wanting more, wanting him, wanting whatever this was. In the background, Bing gave way to Burl Ives’s peppier “Holly Jolly Christmas.”
Nick stepped back. “We’re never going to get this tree decorated if we keep doing that.”
“Nothing wrong with a naked tree.”
He laughed. “I do like your train of thought, Viv. But let’s at least get some lights on there. Ellie will love that.”
A part of her heart melted at the thoughtfulness in Nick’s words. The tree, the lights, were about making a three-month-old happy. A baby who would never remember this moment, or this tree. Nevertheless, Nick had slipped fully into the role of surrogate father—protective, considerate and sweet.
Those were good qualities in a man. The kind of qualities a smart woman hung on to and treasured. Except some smart women had careers in another city, and lives too cramped to have room for a child and a husband. Some smart women had never dared to dream of a man like Nick.
As she crossed to the decorations box, she saw the other box with Nick’s name on the outside, still sitting in the corner. “What’s that?”
“A request.” Nick sighed and dropped into the armchair. “My grandmother left it for me to give to my father. She actually listed it in her will as a condition of me receiving my inheritance. She wants us to go through the box together. Why, I have no idea. I looked in there, and it’s just a bunch of stuff from his childhood.”
“The same father who doesn’t talk to you?” Vivian sat on the ottoman across from him.
Nick nodded. “I called him and told him about it, and his words were, ‘drop it in the mail.’ Even this final request from his mother wasn’t worth him coming around to see his own son.”
“His name sounds familiar. I’m sure he is doing all that because he’s probably a very stubborn man.” She paused, thinking of the lawyers she knew, the ones who would argue to the death for a small point, the ones who had been divorced many times or were on the outs with their families. Time and again, she’d seen the same common thread. “Or a very hurt one.”
“What makes you say that?”
As the words coalesced in Vivian’s mind, she saw the connections, the echoes between her childhood and Nick’s. Perhaps that was what had brought them together, these shared wounds. “My mom hardly visited Sammie and I when we were placed in foster care. She messed up so many times that I stopped counting on her, although it took Sammie a lot longer to do that. When I was fifteen or sixteen, Sammie and I waited all afternoon at a playground for her to show up. Sammie was only eleven or so, and still so optimistic and sure that our mother would be there. She’d worn her best dress, and had our foster mother braid her hair. She’d drawn a picture of the three of us to give to Mom when we saw her.”
“And she didn’t show up?”
“She did. Two hours late. By then, Sammie’s dress was dirty, her braids were loose and the picture was crinkled.” Vivian shook her head. She could still see the defeat in Sammie’s eyes, the tears that trickled through the dirt on her cheeks. “Then I saw my mom, standing at the edge of the park and marched over to her. I read her the riot act for five minutes straight.”
Nick smiled. “That I can imagine you doing.”
“My argument skills have always been pretty strong.” Vivian took a sip of wine, and in her mind she was that teenager again, trying to put all those hurts from her childhood together, and drag answers out of the one person who had never given her any. “I asked her why she even bothered to set up visitations if all she was going to do was bail at the last minute. And she said...”
When Vivian didn’t continue, Nick reached out and touched her hand. “She said what?”
“That she felt so guilty about being such a bad mom that she couldn’t bring herself to face us. She knew she’d screwed up. Knew she’d said things and done things that had hurt us, and it was easier for her to ignore us than to apologize. Or show up and deal with how much she had let us down.” Vivian leaned toward Nick. “Some people just don’t know how to deal with the pain they’ve caused. Maybe your dad is one of t
hem.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just a stubborn man who can’t admit he’s wrong.”
“Kinda the same thing, don’t you think?” Vivian gave him a soft smile.
“You may be right.” He got to his feet and pulled an extension cord from one of the boxes. “Do you think that’s part of why your sister has stayed away? She knows she let you and Ellie down and she can’t face that right now?”
Vivian thought of the conversation with Della, the challenges of being a new mom and the sense of failure when things went awry. “Maybe.”
The heavy conversation was making Vivian far too self-reflective. Her mind pulled at threads of her own avoidance of relationships and connections. But that was a knot she was nowhere near ready to untangle. She’d much rather be hanging plastic Santas on the tree. “Well, let’s get this tree decorated before it gets too late.” Vivian dug in the box marked Decorations, and pulled out two strings of multicolored lights. “I hope they still work.”
“They do. I tested them the other day.” Nick started at the top, wrapping the tree with the lights, weaving them in and out of the branches, then adding the second string and a third that she discovered under a container of ornaments. “Turn off the lights,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because the first time we light this tree, I want to get the full effect.”
She did as he requested, and the room plunged into darkness. “Silent Night” began to play on the radio. A second later, Nick had plugged in the lights, and a bloom of red, green, blue and yellow filled the living room. The soft strains of the Christmas carol made the room feel hushed, almost sacred.
Nick came to stand beside her. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is.” Vivian had seen hundreds of Christmas trees over the years—mostly on TV or in magazine ads—but none seemed as precious as this tilted, barely decorated one. Maybe because she’d chosen the tree, this part of the family as Cutler had called it. She turned to Nick. “This is going to sound crazy, but one of the things I’ve always wanted to do is lie under a Christmas tree and look up at the lights.”
He considered her for a moment, a quirk of amusement in his features. “I don’t think it’s crazy at all. Let’s do it.”
Like two ten-year-olds, they lay on their backs and shimmied under the tree. Their heads pressed together, and a dusting of needles scattered across their faces and chests. Vivian giggled. Actually giggled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that, if ever. Above her head, the lights blinked on-off, on-off, a constellation of colors nestled among the branches. “It’s like fireworks. So cool.”
“It is.” Nick’s hand covered hers. They lay there for a while, silent, while Christmas carols played in the background and the lights twinkled.
Nick kept holding her hand. He was close enough that she could feel the warmth from his body, inhale the scent of his cologne. She could get used to this. Very used to it.
At the same time, they turned to look at each other. Neither said a word, but their hands tightened and they drew closer. Nick cupped her face, then kissed her, and before she knew it, she was pressed up against him and he was devouring her, and Vivian Winthrop finally stopped overthinking the whole thing.
Chapter Eleven
Nick had told himself—very firmly and many, many times—that he was not going to do anything more than kiss Vivian. Then she’d worn that dress, and his resolve had melted a little. But what tipped the scales from no to yes had been that moment under the tree when she’d turned to him, the look in her eyes both sultry and vulnerable, and all those arguments in his head disappeared. Whatever reservations he’d had about Vivian vanished in light of that vulnerable conversation and that moment under the tree.
He took her hand, pulled her to her feet. She swayed into his arms. “What are we doing?” he asked, repeating her question from earlier.
“I don’t know. I just know...” Her blue eyes met his, and in them, a dark storm brewed. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Neither do I.” His voice was a hoarse rasp. Blood raced through his veins, thudded in his heart. Her hair had come undone, and the combination of the loose tangles and the sexiness of her bare shoulders nearly undid him. “I want to take you up to my room and—”
“Then do it, Nick. Please.”
It was the please that erased the last of his resistance. He’d wanted Vivian almost from the second he met her, but she’d made it clear she wasn’t a long-term girl. Maybe he was blind or a fool, but all he saw when he looked at her was long-term. She had committed to her sister, to her career, and in a fierce, deep way that he admired. She had passion, and he wanted to explore every inch of that.
He took her hand and they went upstairs, passing the nursery where Ellie still slept, and turning left to Nick’s room, at the end of the hall. He started to shut the door, then left it slightly ajar. “Just in case Ellie wakes up.”
“And that,” she said, tangling her hands in his hair, “is why I want you.”
“Because I’m leaving the door open?”
“Because you are thoughtful...” She pressed a kiss to his neck. “Considerate...” Another kiss. “Kind...” A third. “And gentle.”
The desire that had simmered all day inside him flamed into an overpowering need. It was all he could do to stand still, while she kissed and teased him. “Is that what you want me to be, Vivian? Gentle?”
She drew back and met his gaze head-on. “I want you to love me, Nick. Just for tonight. We’ll worry about gentle later.”
Good Lord. Did this woman know what she did to him when she said things like that? He scooped her up and laid her on the bed, then kicked off his shoes. She started to do the same, but he put a hand on her bare leg. “Leave the heels on. Please.”
Her brows arched. A devilish smile lit her face. “My, my, Nick Jackson. You do surprise me.”
“Good.” He undid his shirt and tie, tossing them to the side. “Because you’re the kind of woman who deserves to be surprised. And loved. No, not just loved, but loved well.”
He climbed onto the bed beside her. She rolled toward him, and he reached for the zipper on the back of her dress, then stopped. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Did I say something wrong? Did you change your mind?”
“No. Not at all.” She cupped his face and kissed him. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone and...it scares me.”
“To want something you can lose?”
“Something I will say goodbye to.” She let out a long breath. “I don’t want to give you a forever impression, Nick. Let’s just have tonight, and tomorrow will sort itself out.”
Something I will say goodbye to.
When he heard the words, he realized how much he’d hoped Vivian would stay in Stone Gap. That this little temporary family could become permanent and real. The truth was, none of this was real. Ellie wasn’t theirs, they weren’t each other’s, and very soon their lives would diverge in two radically different directions.
He would have tonight, and that would be it. Would that be enough?
For the first time in his life, Nick was afraid, too, of losing someone he’d begun to care very deeply about. It had taken Ariel walking out of his life for him to see how shallow his feelings for her had been. Losing her had smarted, of course, but only for few weeks. But the thought of never seeing Vivian again—
If he thought about it long enough, it would damned near make him stop breathing.
“Tonight, Nick. Let’s just pretend,” she said. Then she kissed him again, curving against him as she did, her hands roving over his bare back, lingering along his waistband, and Nick stopped thinking. The zipper on the back of Vivian’s dress slid down with a soft snick, and a second later, she’d kicked it to the floor.
“Damn, you’re beautiful.” He kissed a trail from her jaw to the valley between her breasts, then ov
er the cleavage that spilled out of the black strapless bra. She shifted up on the bed as he kept moving down, kissing, licking, teasing. He tugged off her panties, then slid between her legs.
The easy softness in her disappeared, and her body stiffened. “I’ve, uh...never...”
He shifted back to lie beside her again. He danced an easy caress across her belly. “I’m not going to lie, that makes me pretty damned happy to hear.”
“I just don’t know if I can...” her cheeks flushed “...well, you know. I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing something wrong if I don’t...get there. I don’t usually in general. Most of the guys I’ve been with have been kind of...fast and well... Anyway, I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
He cupped her face. “Vivian, nothing about you disappoints me. You are strong and fierce and gorgeous. And any man who didn’t appreciate that, appreciate every inch of you, is the wrong man to be with.”
That adorable blush appeared in her cheeks again, then she danced a tentative hand down his pants to cup him. The sensation of her soft, warm hand against him instantly made him even harder. The desire raging inside him urged to take her, hard and fast, but tonight, it was all about making Vivian feel good. “As much as I want you to do that forever,” he said, “I think it’s your turn.”
She nodded, then smiled as he kissed his way down her breasts, across her belly and back to her legs. She laid back, propping her feet on the bed, the black spiked heels digging into the comforter while he tasted her. He went slow at first, teasing her, dancing around the outer edges, before coming back to the center.
She moaned, writhing against his tongue. Her hands tangled in his hair, and when he moved deeper, faster, and harder, she gasped, arched against the bed, and a moment later, shouted his name. “Oh my...that was...unbelievable.”
He grinned, and slid back up her body. “Well, let’s see if we can make you do that again. And again.”