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“I tried so hard to track you down. When all hell broke loose, when I found out the truth, I tried to call you, but your number had changed.”
I cringe, regretting doing that within weeks of him calling to tell me he was getting married.
“I sent letters to the house you lived in when we were in high school, thinking maybe your dad or you still owned the house, but they were returned. You don’t keep in touch with any of our friends from high school, you aren’t on any social media. Christ, Jenna, I tried to email your old Hotmail email address.”
I burst out laughing at that. “You mean you remembered my email from high school?”
He smiles. “I’ll never forget BlondieRipCurlGurl1995. It’s forever ingrained in my mind because that was the phase where you were going to move to California and be a surfer.”
“Remember I had that poster of Kelly Slater on my wall?”
He nods. “I remember being jealous of that poster hanging right above your bed. And remember making me watchBlue Crusharound three thousand times?”
I had completely forgotten about my surfer phase. My laugh eventually fades, and I turn back to him as he rakes his fingers through my hair.
“It wasn’t until my sister’s accident and her seeing you in the hospital that I finally knew you were alive, and okay, and in the city. I still didn’t know if you would talk to me. I made a lot of mistakes these last few years, but I wouldn't give up Allie for anything. That girl is my world.”
I lean down to kiss him. “She’s lucky to have you. I can tell already she's going to be kind like you. Smart like you.” I kiss him again, the wetness between my legs growing as I slide up and down his length. “She's going to be brave and confident. And the most important part is that she will never question if she is loved.” That little girl will grow up never having to wonder her worth.
I pour my emotions into my kiss, unable to think of much besides how wonderful he is, and it makes me feel awful. I spent months on end cursing his name, lying awake at night next to other men, wondering where I went wrong, how I misread the signs, thinking all this time that he never cared about me.
“So, you forgive me?” he asks softly, hands moving to my bottom to roll my hips along his. “For how I hurt you?”
I rise onto my knees and line him up, pausing for a beat, his eyes catching mine as I slip his head inside me. We both groan in unison.
“There's nothing to forgive,” I tell him honesty as I lean down to catch his lips. There’s nothing to forgive. Nothing to cause worry. No more pain to work through.
Chapter Twenty-One
It’s a new experience having someone greet me the moment I get home. When I was a kid, coming home after school, my dad was usually at work, and my mom lost in her head. I’ve gotten used to coming home to a quiet house, making sure to stay silent to not disturb others. But now, after a grueling shift, when my body aches and I’m sure there is some sort of human splatter on my scrubs, and all my makeup has sweat off, Emmett still waits for me by the door, or comes down the hall as soon as he hears the click of the lock. He’s smiling, arms stretched out wide for a hug, not giving a crap what I look or smell like.
“I ordered Chinese food, there are leftovers in the fridge,” he murmurs into my ear.
“Maybe I’m not as high-class as some girls, because that’s probably the most romantic thing you could have said to me right now.”
He walks me to the kitchen, pulls out a chair and ushers for me to sit before opening the fridge and pulling out a barrage of white containers. He grabs a bottle of chilled wine and pours a glass, setting it in front of my plate.
I take back what I said earlier, a man, preparing my Chinese food while I rest my aching body and sip on a glass of wine, nowthatis probably the most romantic gesture.
“Allie already in bed?”
He nods. “She wanted to stay up to see you, but she got really crabby around eight and passed out in my arms.”
On a normal day, I would have been here by seven at the latest, but a Code Blue right at shift change delayed everything.
It didn’t bother me so much before when I worked late. I welcomed the extra cash and put it toward my future home, but now, knowing Emmett and Allie are waiting for me, the days tend to drag by. I want to spend every free minute with them, and for the most part, I do.
He leans his forearms on the counter, fingers toying with the edge of my napkin.
“What’s up?”
“What are you doing next Thursday? Are you working?”
I like how he says Thursday, as if I wouldn’t know that Thursday is Christmas. As if I haven’t already been browsing online sales to find Allie the perfect assortment of princess gowns.
“I work Christmas Eve, but am off Christmas Day, and for the whole weekend. What areyoudoing Thursday?”
He gives a shy smile. “My family wants to make sure you’re free to spend Christmas with us.”
