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“You’re actually gonna let him go?” Tara asks in disbelief.
“What the fuck are you thinking, Tris?” Dacia adds.
“Bad word!” Tommy shouts as he reenters the living room, balancing a cup of water.
“Hey, did Coach Remi leave?” Jared calls from the hallway. “I wanted to play hover soccer with him.”
“He left real fast so’s he didn’t bawl,” Wendy replies.
My thoughts spin into a whirlwind of confusion… and regret. And although I plan to save the hand-decorated giftwrap—maybe even hang it on my bedroom wall—I rip the paper from the gift, curious to find out what he’s given me. An unframed canvas… and on it is the most extraordinary depiction of me I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen many. The watercolor portrait that I posed for in his loft is complete… and breathtaking.
I stare at it in awe until instinct tells me to turn it over. There’s an inscription.
I know my heart as well as I know my mind.
I know that I love you, Tristan, and I always will.
Remi
“Hold this.” I shove the painting into Tara’s hands and race from the living room. I tear through the kitchen, not even hesitating to slide my bare feet into the boots waiting by the door. And I bolt out the front door and onto the snowy street.
I glance to where Remi has parked his SUV. The headlights are on, and he’s pulling out of the spot. Relief floods my heart that he hasn’t yet driven away—but I refuse to waste valuable time savoring this minor victory.
As I run down the street, waving my arms over my head so he can’t miss me, it hits me that normally reserved Tristan must look, to Remi, like he’s totally losing it. But I don’t care what I look like—I need him to see me. And hear me. “Remi! Wait up—stop, please!” I bellow like Tommy when he catches Tara cursing.
I’ll do whatever it takes to catch his attention. To stop him from leaving.
The SUV is soon on the street, heading my way. The vehicle’s interior is dark, but I can still make out Remi’s soulful eyes. They’re wide with surprise at the sight of the barefoot man in his path, flailing and shouting. When the SUV stops, I race to the passenger side and climb in.
“Park.” I issue the command in a throaty bark.
“Okay.” Remi doesn’t glance at me across the center console. And though he holds his neck stiffly—seemingly quite controlled—his breathing is loud as he pulls down the street and backs into a spot.
“Let’s try it again…” I know what I’m doing—the right thing—and it feels good.
He turns to study me. “Try what?” His gaze is shadowed by a mind full of doubt.
“The thing we got so horribly wrong the first time, of course.”
Remi shrugs. “Then go ahead, I guess.” He has no idea what I’m about to say.
A certain conversation has been stuck in my mind—I couldn’t forget it when I so desperately wanted to, but now I’m glad it’s bottled in my brain. “I said that I loved you. Did you hear me?”
Recognition of my question from the night our relationship fell apart flashes in Remi’s eyes. He blinks once and replies with the same simple sentence as before. “I heard you.”
I reach across the console with my icy hand and grab his upturned one that rests on his knee. Then I pull his palm to my lips, kiss it softly, and ask, “Do you love me too?”
The haze of confusion parts, and he nods. “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
“Congratulations, Remi. This time, you gave me the correct answer.” When I take his stubbly face into my hands, a sensation of warmth spreads through my entire body.
“The second time is a charm.” He leans in and presses the most meaningful kiss I’ve ever received against my waiting lips.
“Spend Christmas with me,” I say. “With us.”
“I’ll gladly spend Christmas with the Wilder family but consider yourself fairly warned—I’m gonna stick around forever.”
“I can work with that.”
* * *
Remi
We’reon our sides in Tristan’s creaky twin bed in a crowded bedroom with too-thin walls. Facing each other but not touching, it’s the most intimate moment I’ve ever shared with a lover.
“You should realize that the kids are gonna wake us up at the crack of dawn,” he warns.
“That leaves us about six hours alone in this bed.”
Tristan smiles. It’s sexy, a little bit shy, and clearly an invitation. “How do you want me?”
That’s easy.“Talking,” I reply. “I want you talking.”
The surprised O his lips form is almost comical. “You don’t want me spread-eagled on my back? Or on my knees with my butt in the air?”
“Those suggestions are certainly tempting, but I’d rather figure out what went wrong with us. Because it can’t happen again.” I refuse to risk losing Tristan and communication is the key.
But damn, I’m a different man from who I was three months ago—to turn down sex so easily.
“What do you want to know?” he asks.
“It’s not just what I want to know—it’s what I need to explain.” A great deal needs to be spoken and understood, for both of our benefit.
“I’m listening.” Tristan pushes himself up so he’s sitting in the middle of the bed, with his knees bent and his arms wrapped around them. The sight is as stunningly beautiful as any classroom pose, but it’s even better now that he’s mine.
I rest my head on my arm. “I’ve always stayed away from relationships—and I’m talking about with both friends and lovers.”
“What about Dacia?” He focuses his sultry gaze on me. “You’re friends with her.”
“She forced friendship on me. Believe me, I battled against it and lost.”
