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And he’d done it for her.
Samara was so grateful, she wanted to thank everyone, but tears were burning the backs of her eyes, she was so overwhelmed. Her mouth couldn’t form all the words in her heart and embarrassed to cry in front of all these people she turned and ran up the stairs.
In her bedroom, she flung herself down on the bed and let her tears flow.
Why did Michael have to go and be so sweet?
It made deciding what she should do so much harder.
“Hey.” A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m sorry,” she cried, burying her face in her pillow.
“About what?” The bed dipped as Michael sat beside her.
“I was going to turn you down, tell you that we couldn’t be a couple and that we should just stay friends, even after that wonderful date you just took me on because no one has ever broken my heart like you did. But then we get back here, and you did all of this for me, you remembered every single thing that I said a year ago, and you took it and made it a reality, and now I feel so bad.”
“Samara,” he said, his tone full of tender affection. He took hold of her shoulders and sat her up, pulling her sideways so she sat in his lap. “Don’t be sorry. If you want to turn me down, you can, I understand. I shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. At first, I didn't realize it would take me a year to get myself together, I thought I'd be gone for a month, maybe two or three tops, not twelve. I’m so sorry that I let so much time pass before coming back, that was a mistake. I guess I was scared that I had already lost you, and coming back and getting confirmation of that was terrifying. I wanted to call you every day. I wanted to tell you how proud I was of you for finding the strength to move on and tell you that you don’t ever have to be perfect with me. I don’t want you to put that kind of pressure on yourself, I just want real. I just want you. I wanted to tell you what I was doing and why. I love you so much that I couldn’t let my problem end up bringing you down.”
“You didn't even give me a chance to offer to be there for you, to help you.”
“You're right, I didn't. I'm sorry. It just didn't seem fair to ask you to.”
“It’s up to me to decide what’s fair for me and what’s not.”
“I know, but I wasn't sure I could do it. I wasn't sure I could ever be in a place where I felt confident that I had my drinking under control. I’m always going to be an alcoholic, and that urge to drink is always going to be there, especially when things are tough, but I have the best motivation in the world to stay sober.”
“Oh yeah?” She smiled through her tears.
“Yeah.” He leaned in as though to kiss her but paused millimeters from her lips. His eyes met hers, seeking permission, and when she nodded, he kissed her. As he did the last of her doubts melted away. It hurt her that he hadn't given her the chance to help him and that he’d left the way he had and stayed away so long, but when it boiled down to it, she had two options; she could turn him down, insist they only be friends and be miserable, or she could accept that everyone makes mistakes and take him back and be happy.
When she looked at it like that there was only one choice.
“You kept tabs on me, didn't you?” Samara asked. It was the only way he could have known that she was working to move on.
“Brady, but don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” she assured him. “You worked on your drinking, I worked on my need to try to be perfect. Maybe last Christmas just wasn't the right time for us. But now …” she snuggled closer and breathed in the scent she had missed for twelve long months, “now is the time for a fresh start.”
“I love you so much.” Michael kissed her neck, then her jaw, and then her lips. The kiss started soft and sweet but quickly morphed into something more passionate, more desperate. Michael’s hands moved to the hem of her sweater, and his fingertips began to trace their way up her stomach to her breasts.
As much as she wanted this they couldn’t, not now, not while everyone was downstairs waiting for them. “We can't,” Samara said, breaking the kiss and pushing Michael’s hands away. “We have guests.”
“They can wait.”
“No, they can't.” She laughed. “Weren't you the one calling me impatient last Christmas?”
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed, pouting like a sulking child, and she laughed again.
They might have realized they were in love last Christmas, but in hindsight, neither of them had been ready for a serious relationship. They had both needed to work on themselves first. But now they were both in the right place at the right time. This Christmas they could start their lives together.
“When everyone leaves I’m going to ravish every inch of your delectable body until you forget the names of every single person who ever hurt you. I’m going to give you the merriest Christmas of your life. Of anyone’s life,” Michael told her.
She shivered. The good kind. A shiver of excited anticipation.
“One more kiss before we go down?” Michael held up the mistletoe that had been hanging above her front door.
How could she say no to that?
