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“Since you made it I think I can spare a cup.”
He nudged me back inside and whistled for Betty. My dog dragged her face out of the snow and trotted to the door.
“You pour,” I suggested on our way back to the kitchen. “I’ll feed Whinnie. She gets cranky if I don’t follow her schedule.”
“Already done,” he said.
I stopped on the linoleum. “What? How?”
He nodded toward Addy’s binder on the counter. “Your girl’s instruction manual.”
“Wow,” I whispered.
He flashed me his trademark smirk as he thumbed open the bottle of Tylenol. “Sore today?”
“In a variety of places for a variety of reasons,” I admitted with a grin.
He passed me two tablets, then poured himself a cup of coffee.
We were facing each other on opposite sides of the counter. I reached over and grasped his arm. “Vonn, thank you for last night and this morning. I just… Thank you.”
He leaned down on his elbows, bringing himself closer to me. “Thank you.”
“I’m not writing the story,” I told him, the words coming out in a rush. My editor would shit a brick. Which meant not only would I not be getting the staff writer job, I also wouldn’t be getting any more freelance assignments. But what had happened between me and Vonn was bigger, more significant than a job.
He cocked his head. “Why not?”
“It’s not right. Sharing with the world what you shared with me?” I shook my head.
“I wouldn’t ask you to give up your dream for me,” he said quietly.
“To be honest, after looking at it from your perspective, I don’t think I’d be happy as a journalist. I love music. Not prying into people’s tragedies.”
Vonn’s confidence in me meant more than any job or any byline.
I’d find another way, another job.
He reached out and cupped my face in his hand. “You’re a hell of a girl, Brooke.”
“And you’re one sexy Santa.”
“I want you to think about me,” he said firmly.
As if I had a choice.
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” I assured him.
“I want you to remember that there’s someone out there who knows your secrets and has your back.”
This was one hell of a one-night stand. An abbreviated romance that I knew I would look back on fondly for the rest of my life.
“There’s actually one more secret.” I pulled the journal out of my pocket and slid it across the counter to him. “Don’t open it now, or I’ll die of embarrassment.”
His big hand covered mine on the notebook. “What’s inside?”
I wet my lips. “I write…poems. I have for years. Just little stanzas. Silly records of my life. They’re laughably terrible,” I warned. “I’ve never shown anyone. Ever.”
“And you’re trusting me with them?”
“I’m trusting you with everything.”
I really had. I’d given him every piece of me, and he hadn’t thrown them back in my face or laughed or judged.
He blew out a breath. “I wish I didn’t have to get on a fucking plane.”
“Me too.” But what was alternative? Me leaving my family and friends to move to LA until our relationship inevitably ran its course? Him giving up his life on the West Coast and moving to Hershey, Pennsylvania, and doing what? Making chocolate?
We didn’t make sense.
The clock on the microwave caught my eye. “You’d better go,” I said.
He swore under his breath.
“This isn’t goodbye, Brooke,” he insisted.
But that’s exactly what it was.
“Let’s not pretend this is something it isn’t. We had a night. A great night. A night that will ruin all other Christmas Eves forever.”
He didn’t laugh like I wanted him to.
I squeezed his hand. “I’ll never forget last night for the rest of my life. And I want you to know that no matter what you decide to do with your retirement, I’ll be here cheering for you. You deserve to be happy, Vonn. Tommy would want you to find your way there.”
He said nothing for a beat, then let out a long sigh. “Never forget you, gorgeous.”
Then he fisted his hand in my shirt, yanked me toward him, and kissed me goodbye.
Fifteen minutes after I waved Vonn off from my driveway and dried my tears, Betty bolted for the door. The signal that someone was here.
I threw the blanket off my lap and vaulted off the couch. I was halfway to the door, heart singing, when it opened and in tumbled my kids.
Disappointment crashed over me like a wave at the beach.
Dutifully, I shoved it aside, reminding myself that it was Christmas morning and two humans that I had birthed had chosen to surprise me rather than spend a leisurely morning with their father and stepmom.
“What are you two doing here?” I demanded, hands on hips, trying to remember how to look like a mother and not a wanton groupie with no regrets.
Addy’s cheeks were pink. She was dressed like she was ready for an Instagram photoshoot, wearing a vest, leggings, and one of those wool hats with the puffball on top. Her dark hair hung to her shoulders in a styled loose wave. Shane was still in his pajama pants and an ancient Pittsburgh Steelers sweatshirt. He looked half asleep with his blondish-brown hair standing up at adorably odd angles.
