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She’d talked to Mallory right before church. Her friend was spending Christmas on a yacht in the harbor with some friends, and sounded like she was having a great time.
As good a time as it was possible to have during the holidays when you didn’t have family of your own. But Mallory wasn’t giving up on life. Wasn’t letting the past prevent her future.
Tamara needed to do the same.
Flint opened the door before she’d even knocked. He’d obviously been waiting for her and she loved that.
She took the glass of wine he held out to her, but leaned in to kiss him first. Long and slow and deep. He was much more delicious than wine.
They’d yet to
consummate their relationship, but she hoped to rectify that situation this evening. The lacy red thong and barely-there bra she’d worn under a festively red-sequined sweater and black pants were there to help.
But when she began to make her move, he stepped back.
“I want to try something,” he said, leading her into the living room. “Have a seat.”
He seemed nervous, which was saying a lot. No matter what Flint was feeling on the inside, he didn’t let weakness show very often.
So she sat. And wondered if he was about to ask her to marry him. It was a little early, considering they hadn’t even slept together, and yet...it didn’t feel early at all.
Except that she was a woman who might never be able to be a mother to his little girl. And who almost certainly wouldn’t be able to have any more children with him.
“Drink your wine,” he said, taking a sip of his as he told her about his day. About running out of tape in the middle of wrapping and having to go out and get more, his baby girl right by his side. She listened because he wanted her to. Sipped wine for the same reason.
But she really wanted to know what was going on.
When she’d all but finished her wine, he set down his glass. “I need you to try something with me. If it fails...well, then it does, but I feel strongly that we should try.”
“Is this like one of those times when you take a risk on an investment because you’re sure it’s going to pay out, and then it makes you a load of money?”
“Kind of like that, yes. The feeling is the same. But I’m going to need you to trust me.”
Though he prided himself on his knowledge, gleaned from studying everything he could about a particular topic, he’d been gifted with acute instincts. She’d learned that much about him very early on. Believed it was those instincts that had guided him so successfully through a life filled with hardship. Aided by what he’d learned, of course.
Her mind was babbling again. His nervousness was contagious.
She didn’t know where he’d gone or what he was doing. Maybe seeing to the baby, although she hadn’t heard a peep.
Then she heard his voice, speaking calmly. “Lie back and close your eyes.”
An odd request, but he’d asked her to trust him. And she did. Implicitly. She lay back. Closed her eyes.
“Take me back to the day Ryan was born,” he said, coming closer. She opened her eyes and he turned away. “No, please, Tamara, close your eyes and tell me about that day. Everything you can remember. Even if it’s just about running out of tape.”
She didn’t like this. At all. But the tape? He’d focused on the mundane for a reason, so she did, too. Because she trusted him.
She was safe with him. Emotionally safe. And so she did as he asked, sharing that day with him in the little things, things that hadn’t mattered to anyone else who’d talked to her since her son’s death. She remembered that she’d had chocolate for breakfast—in the granola bar she’d eaten. That she’d shaved her legs. She’d had a day off work. Had gone in for a haircut and had wanted to leave the salon. To be home.
Her car had half a tank of gas.
The weather was warm, balmy. The sun shining. She’d thought about picking a cucumber from her garden to have with cheese and crackers for lunch. Wanted to remember to call her mom.
He asked her what she was wearing that day, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear him. So soft, he didn’t break her spell. And she told him about the pregnancy pants. Not leggings, but real pregnancy pants with the panel. Her friends had teased her, but she’d wanted them because she was actually showing enough to need them.
The maternity top had been blue with little white, red and light blue flowers.
She talked and talked. Remembering so much. Relaxed from the wine. And the goodness of the feelings that had welled up in her that day. The hope.
