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With tears in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head to his chest, absorbing the reassuring beat of his heart. “Please,” she said against his shirt, “please don’t ever keep things from me again. Trust me.”

Matt lifted her head with gentle fingers, holding her face up to his. “And you’re going to trust me, too?” he asked.

Trust him to tell her the truth? Or trust him not to leave her like all the others? Trust him to love her for who she was?

Phyllis might have been able to give him the answer he wanted if he’d even once said he loved her.

HIS FIRST CHRISTMAS was turning out to be far more than he’d ever imagined. Because in all the movies he’d ever seen, the TV shows, the windows he’d peeked into as a kid, he’d seen only the trappings of Christmas, lovely as those were. He’d never known that what made Christmas wasn’t the food, or the presents, the decorations or the colorful lights. It was the warmth, the ineffable sense of contentment, that pervaded the room, the house, the day.

He’d thought, during his years in Shelter Valley, that he’d found peace. On this first Christmas, during his thirty-fourth year of life, he finally discovered what the word meant.

“You know what’s the absolute best thing about this day?” Sophie asked him quietly, leaning across the table while Phyllis mashed the potatoes at the stove.

“What?”

The kid looked great. Happy. Matt was glad Phyllis had invited her to join them.

“The fact that you want me to become friends with your friends,” she said, an odd gleam in her eyes.

Matt’s radar went off, warning him of something very bad. His stomach tensed.

“Here we are.” Phyllis sounded so happy that Matt felt happy, too, as she joined them, passing around turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls, broccoli and a seven-layer salad.

By the time the meal was finished, he’d almost forgotten the dread that had invaded the most perfect day he could ever remember.

He’d mana

ged to convince himself that he’d over-reacted. He didn’t have to be so guarded anymore. The past was past. He’d proved himself here in Shelter Valley. More importantly, he’d proved himself to himself. He was a good man. A man worthy to be sitting at this table, enjoying the first real peace he’d ever known.

A man worthy enough to love the woman sitting across from him?

“Dessert?” Phyllis asked. “There’s Dutch apple pie with vanilla ice cream, or homemade sugar cookies with confectioner’s icing.”

“I’d like both,” Matt said, rubbing his already full belly. He just wasn’t ready for the experience to end.

“Me, too,” Sophie said.

Phyllis laughed. “How can either of you have room for two desserts?”

“I have a separate dessert compartment,” Matt boasted.

Sophie laughed. Phyllis gave him a wicked wink.

Matt’s day was complete.

He only made it halfway through the two desserts, but he noticed Sophie still going to town on hers. His eyes met Phyllis’s over the girl’s head. She’s fine, his tried to say. Phyllis shook her head, frowning.

And ten minutes later, he understood why. While Phyllis and Matt were busy with the dishes, Sophie excused herself and disappeared. Phyllis waited only a moment before grabbing his hand and following the girl.

“I hope I’m wrong,” she whispered as they practically tiptoed down the hall to the guest bathroom.

She wasn’t wrong. Sadness engulfed Matt as he listened to the sounds coming from inside that room. Sophie was ridding herself of all the food she’d just eaten.

Even he knew what that meant. Bulimia.

On such a good day, surrounded by people who were genuinely fond of her, people who believed in and supported her, with presents yet to open under the tree, Sophie couldn’t just relax and give herself a break.

When she opened the door, Matt and Phyllis were still standing there.

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