Page 22 of Miss Christmas

“I know,” she said, stroking his arm, leaving bumps of excitement and comfort in her wake. “She needed you nearby.”

He nodded. He’d never talked to anyone about it. Everyone who mattered already knew, each suffering the loss in their own way. His family had closed ranks at the time, always gathering at Sunday dinner, not missing anyone’s birthday or anniversary or events. Someone was always there.

“After that, I couldn’t turn around without running into one of my family members. They watched out for me and my parents. Especially George. He’s a few years older than me, shouldn’t have had anything to do with me, but he took me under his wing.”

“And he knew everything, so you never had to explain things to him,” she said.

He stared at her eyes—smart, sexy, knowing eyes. All the trouble and mischief were gone. Nothing but deep-down molecular-level understanding,

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but you’re easy to talk to. You understand. I never talked about it before with… .” He let the silence go a few beats. Until she filled it in.

“Your lovers? Tell me everything. What happened?”

Breathing a shaky breath, he allowed the words to tumble out.

“Tyler was always getting in trouble. And we were twins, so I was always right there with him. But he was the one who always liked taking chances. His high school girlfriend was older. She drove fast even when she wasn’t drinking. And that night, they were both drinking. He died instantly. He was only fifteen. I always blamed the girl.” He shrugged, embarrassed about that now. Knowing how she’d ended up. A spike of bravery from a well-hidden secret place even he hadn’t known about kept him talking, sharing.

“She was flamboyant—Shelly. A bold and reckless fashion model from a superstar family, though she didn’t seem to appreciate her family.” He studied her fascinating eyes. “Family means everything.”

“Of course it does. When you have a good one. Like yours. Like mine.”

“George has been like a brother to me since I lost Tyler—like he’s trying to make up for the loss.”

She nodded. “And what happened to the reckless model?”

“She left school and came back to New York too. But not to school. To rehab.”

“Shame. Shelly’s not a model anymore?”

“I don’t know. I’ve avoided models ever since. Not easy to do in New York City.” He smiled and reached an arm around her, drawing her in, craving her touch, her warmth, wanting to dispel the cold of the conversation.

“Your turn to spill the details. Tell me about Tiffany.” He knew Scarlet’s statement in the pageant application only skimmed the surface of the story about her sister.

When Scarlet looked away from him, he thought she wasn’t going to share. His gut sank with disappointment. But after several seconds ticked, she turned back to him, her jewel-like eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Tiffany was my twin, but we were very different.” She smiled at Will. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it? That we both lost our twins.” Her smile went sad as he nodded, knowing the coincidence was named Margo.

“How were you different?”

Scarlet sighed.

“She was the kindest person I’ve ever known. She had that kind of automatic generous heart, where she’d give you whatever you needed, no questions asked. She always assumed the best of people if given a choice. Though she was no fool. We were cheerleaders together and our first year the captain was trash talking about me behind my back.”

“Like what? What bad thing could she possibly be saying about you? You’re perfect.”

Scarlet gave him a sad smile, shaking her head.

“I think she took exception to my short skirt or something like that. Anyway, Tiffany intervened and invited her to our house for dinner. The girl was incredulous. She’s like, why would I go to your house for dinner? Your sister’s a skank. Tiffany’s like, you don’t mean that. If you get to know her better you’ll love her.”

“So did the skanky name-calling bitch come to your house for dinner?”

Scarlet laughed. “Yes, she did.”

“And what happened? She turned out to be your best friend?” He’d asked the question jokingly, but after a beat of silence, her face turned from smiling to wistful and she nodded.

With her voice choked up, holding back tears, she said, “She—Laura—became best friends with us from then on. I won’t lie, she was closer to Tiffany than me, but we were known as the three musketeers, went everywhere together.” She cried, swiping at her tears and he held her close, kissing her hair, wanting desperately to console her, to ease the pain and knowing it was impossible. She sniffled and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, then blew her nose with gusto.

For some unknown reason that made his chest tighten as if it were too full, over-expanded with emotion.