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“I hate to burst your bubble, Riley, but most single people without kids don’t go all out with decorations and presents. They have better things to do with their time than decorating for themselves.”
Like take out the trash and give the cat a bath. Important things like those.
He shook his head in mock disappointment, his eyes twinkling. “I bet you were one of those kids who never believed in Santa and took joy in telling other kids that he wasn’t real.”
Although she doubted he’d meant his comment to hurt, she felt a sharp sting in her chest and a defensive shield popped up. “I never told other kids Santa wasn’t real.”
He stared at her incredulously. “But you never believed in Santa? in the magic of Christmas? Not even as a kid?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat at memories she didn’t want rising to the surface, she shook her head.
“Then who did you think climbed down your chimney and left all the Christmas morning goodies? The tooth fairy?”
She didn’t think anything. Not about the tooth fairy or Santa. Or the Easter bunny or any other mythical creature who was supposed to do something good for her. Why would she?
“Apparently your Christmas mornings were very different from mine.” At her house Christmas had just been another day. No big deal. Actually, if she’d made the mistake of mentioning the holidays, Christmas morning had been worse than other days because her mother would go into a bigger than normal rant. New Year had never been able to get there soon enough.
“Were you so naughty that Santa didn’t visit?” His tone was teasing, but Trinity had to look away because she’d swear something had blown into her eyes. Probably a bit of fake snow off the ginormous tree gracing the entryway of the shopping mall.
Stupid tree. Stupid fake snow. Stupid shopping trip. Stupid her for coming here and dredging up all these memories.
She was not going to let him see her cry, had learned long ago to hide her pain. Most of the time, at any rate. So she slid her game face on, the same one she’d worn year after year.
“Apparently so, because he never did.”
Riley stared at Trinity, trying to decide if she was joking. The pale undertones to her skin and tight set to her mouth before she’d turned away from him said she wasn’t but that she would just as soon he thought she was.
He’d really stuck his foot in his mouth on this one. He’d been teasing her, wanting to make her smile, wanting to make her reveal more about herself, and she had. But he felt awful. Surely, she was over-exaggerating?
“Not even once?”
Her eyes downcast and expression somber, she shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, Riley. We’ve been through this already. Christmas is just a commercial gimmick to make people spend money. I didn’t need Santa bringing me presents. Not then or now.”
The lift of her chin declared she didn’t need anything and dared anyone to claim she did. Was that what she really believed? If so, shame on her parents.
“Didn’t your parents believe in Christmas? In the joy of giving?” He couldn’t imagine his own parents not making a big deal out of the holidays. It was the one and only time of the year his father took time away from work. His mother had barely been able to wait to get her house decorated. Pretty much the minute she had removed the remains of the turkey from the table at Thanksgiving, she’d have him and his brothers start carrying down precisely labeled totes of decorations. Despite whining, those times were some of his best memories.
Although he hadn’t given it much conscious thought, he was carrying on in her footsteps right down to how he s
tored his Christmas goodies.
“Oh, my mother believed in the joy of giving all year long.” But the way Trinity said the words conveyed a very different message from the one Riley had meant.
Poor Trinity, not having similar holiday traditions. As crazy as his family was, his Christmas memories were all good ones, except for those first few following his father’s death when his mother had seemed lost and forlorn. Riley had vowed to give her back her Christmas mojo and he had. Their shopping and decorating spree the previous week was proof enough of that.
Trinity rubbed her hand across her forehead, sucked in a breath and stared into an electronics store window as if their display was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. For a brief moment he thought her eyes watered, but not a single tear fell so he might have been wrong.
But he doubted it.
“What about your father?”
She gave a low laugh. “I have no clue about my father’s thoughts on Christmas, or anything else for that matter. He left before I was born.”
That he could relate to on some levels, because although his father had lived in the same house he’d rarely been home. Except at Christmas.
He’d wanted to know more about Trinity and her comments had revealed more than any other statement that she’d ever made. Yet all it had really done was to pose more questions. Questions that he didn’t think walking in a shopping mall was the right time to ask. But someday he wanted to tear down the walls she hid behind.
“Well, Trinity Warren, this is your lucky year, because this Christmas is going to be your best ever.” He squeezed her hand, knowing if he’d brought joy back to his mother’s holidays he could do so to Trinity’s too. “I promise.”
