AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You helped me open my eyes. I deserved it.” He turned his hand, taking hers, deepening their emotional connection. “Has this conversation—knowing about my family—changed your mind about this evening?”
“Not at all.” If anything, it had made him more real and vulnerable, and she was starting to fall for him. “Thank you for telling me.”
He pushed the button to kill the car engine. “Wait there.”
After helping her from the vehicle, he grabbed their bags from the back, then took her hand once more to lead her up the garden path. “I’d hate for you to trip on those shoes again.”
“You had to remind me.”
His home had a stunning, two-story entry, and the interior was bright and homey, inviting with fresh flowers and a lived-in look. It was a contradiction to what she expected from a grinchy widower.
“Would you like something to drink? A glass of wine? Champagne, perhaps?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m good. Just… I’m not sure how to say this.”
“Pretend you’re in the interrogation room.”
She grinned. “Uhm, ready to relax?”
“You want to”—he exaggerated a wink—“Relax.”
“Exactly.”
At the beginning of the evening, she would have never guessed she’d enjoy his company so much or that his personality would be so complex.
When he’d set down their bags, he brushed her hair back from her temple. “Let me show you around so you’re comfortable.”
“That would be nice.” Not that she’d be able to remember it all unless he provided a map.
The kitchen was stunning with moody blue cabinets and quartz countertops. A gas fireplace was the focal point of the living room. “I love your home.”
“Thank you. My sister helped me redecorate. A couple of years ago she decided that she’d had enough of me living in the past and decided it was time for me to move on.”
“She sounds wise.”
“More than I’d like to admit.”
A family picture stood on the mantel, and she reached to touch the frame then pulled her hand away and looked to him for permission. “May I?”
He was still, his eyebrows drawn together pensively, as if concerned about whatever reaction she might have. “Yes.”
She lifted the snapshot. It showed him—and presumably Allison and their daughter—on a pristine beach, posed behind a Santa Claus made of sand. The fanciful figure was even wearing a floppy hat.
“All of us worked on that thing for hours, trying to get it just right.” His wry smile proved how much the day had meant to him. “It was going to be our family Christmas card. You know, the kind with a long letter inside telling all the things that we’d done that year.” He paused once again. “I’d always hated receiving those. But I’m glad she insisted. She captured our last months together and preserved them forever. The funeral home used this picture on the front of the program they handed out to everyone.”
His story was as sad as it was poignant. “You all look happy.”
“Even though I was frustrated that she insisted on spending so much time making everything perfect.”
His tone said he wished he could have a do-over on his attitude.
“You must miss her terribly.”
“Every damn day. I keep expecting the hurt to loosen its grip.”
“Does it ever?” Her question came from her own grief.
“She was a good person. Someone I didn’t deserve.”
