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He held up a bottle. “I’d have brought wine but I figured apple cider was more appropriate considering.”
“Um, apple cider is fine.” Casting a wary glance over her shoulder toward the kitchen, she motioned him inside, closing the door behind him to block out the cold air rushing in. It hadn’t started snowing yet but the weather forecast predicted there was a good chance of it.
Abby took the bottle. “I’ll just put this in the kitchen while you remove your coat.”
Slipping his coat off, he glanced around the room. “Wow, you’ve really gone to a lot of trouble for just the two of us.”
“About that…” She waited until his eyes connected with hers, trepidation bubbling in her belly.
Only his gaze shot past her to where he could see into the small dining area, could see the table set with eight place settings. His smile faded. “It’s not going to be just the two of us? Did you invite some of your friends from the hospital?”
She shook her head. “No, I have a Christmas surprise for you.”
Furrows dug into his forehead. “You know how I feel about Christmas.”
“I do know.” Please don’t let him be upset that she’d gone along with his mother’s suggestion. Please.
“Okay.” He exhaled slowly, moving close to her, close enough to touch. “I’m trying to deal with your Christmas excitement, but no more surprises.”
Cupping his handsome face, she stared into his eyes, knowing she loved him, knowing she wanted him for ever, to spend all her Christmases with him and their child, and any future children that might come along. “Dirk, I—”
“Dirk! You’re here!”
His expression instantly transformed to terseness, instantly tightened with cold accusation before turning toward the woman who’d entered the room.
What the—? Dirk rotated his jaw, counted to ten, inhaled and exhaled, anything to try to keep his mounting anger under control.
“Hello, Mother.” He’d never mentioned Abby to his family, so his mother couldn’t have been the one to make contact. But how? Surely Abby wouldn’t have gone behind his back? This would explain why his mother’s calls had eased.
Clearly having no clue as to the enormity of what she’d done, Abby’s fingers clasped his arm. “Dirk?”
Seeing the stricken look in her eyes, he fought the need to reassure her. How could he reassure her when panic gripped his throat, cutting off his airways?
“I’m surprised to see you here, Mother.”
She walked to him, turned her cheek up to him. Automatically, he bent to kiss her in spite of his displeasure at her invading his holidays. God, he wasn’t up for Christmas Intervention II.
“I can see why you like Philadelphia so much.” His mother beamed in Abby’s direction. “Your Abby is quite lovely.”
“She’s not my Abby.” But she was quite pale, looking back and forth between them, clearly trying to size up the dynamics taking place. How could she have done this?
“Are the rest of the crew here?” But he could hear that they were. Over the sounds of the Christmas music playing, he could hear his nephews chatting back and forth, hear his sister shushing them.
“Holidays are meant to be shared with your family. We wanted to spend ours with you, Dirk, because we love you.”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “So you invited yourself to Abby’s?”
“No,” his mother laughed, wrapping her arms around him to give him a hug. “I mentioned how much we wanted to see you over the holidays, that we planned to surprise you with a visit, and asked your lovely Abby to help. She invited us here. Such a good girl, Dirk. I like her.”
Dirk struggled to process his mother’s words. “When did you talk to Abby?”
His mother gave him one last squeeze, starting to look a little nervous herself. “We’ve talked several times over the past week. She’s absolutely lovely, son.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that a time or two,” he bit out tersely. God, what were they up to? If they brought out video tapes and photo albums again, he was out of there.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll go check on dinner.” Abby gave him one last look, her lower lip trembled, then she disappeared into the kitchen, the low rumble of his brother’s voice greeting her.
Abby had had no right to invite his family, to plan a Christmas dinner with them behind his back. Just what had his family told her? That he was a broken man? Pathetic and weak at the loss of his wife and child? That he might as well have died in that car wreck, too?
