The Plight Before Christmas(89)

“It was you. Only you, and for a long time after, too.”

Searching our memories, the rest of my denial dies on my tongue as images of our beginning start to play out differently. His refusal to kiss me. His utter disdain for the nickname. The long wait to get intimate, nearly two months of dating before we had sex. And it wasn’t just sex. We made love—the most intense, beautiful lovemaking of my life.

“Ah,” he says, his eyes lighting with satisfaction. “So, she finally believes me.”

“Oh, my God, Eli—”

“You were worth every bit of the wait, Whitney. You were.”

“H-how is that even possible? I mean…why would they call you—”

“All hearsay bullshit, I have no idea where it stemmed from. Sure, I fucked around a little, I wasn’t completely innocent when we met, but I was a far fucking cry from anywhere near resembling that rumor.”

“Why would you let me think…W-why didn’t you tell me?”

“There’s so much I didn’t tell you because I was a selfish bastard when it came to how you perceived me back then for reasons I refused to tell you. In truth, I abused your selfless heart, and I did it because it gave me what I needed. There’s a lot to confess, but I think the most important thing right now is that you know that you were my first and only in college.”

He pushes a loose strand of hair falling from my messy bun behind my ear.

“Please tell me this confession bought me a talk at some point, if nothing else, before we both go home.”

I slowly nod.

“Good.” He lifts the book from the mattress and flips to his earmarked page. “Go, hang with your sisters,” he urges, “they’re staring again.”

I stand with the bottles clutched to me, knowing Serena still needs me and that Erin needs to air her own grievances about Brenden, but I can’t force myself to walk away. His words from this afternoon come back to me, and Whitney’s wants and needs become crystal clear for the first time since I got here. Right now, Whitney wants and needs to talk to Eli, to kiss Eli, to stare openly at Eli without shaming herself for it.

Lingering above him, he looks up from his book and stares back at me, reading those wants and needs.

“Goddamn it, Whitney,” he rasps out, “what I wouldn’t give to be able to give you exactly what you want right now, because I want it too, but we aren’t going to get the privacy we need tonight. I’ll be here tomorrow and the next day, unless you change your mind, okay?”

Biting my lip, I nod and slowly turn back toward the door. Just as I reach it, he speaks up.

“I’ve missed you, Whitney.”

It takes every bit of my willpower to walk through it.




“Oh my God,” Serena groans, her face ghastly white as she enters the kitchen and sidles up to me where I stand at the coffee pot, eyes half-mast. “I’m dying.”

I take down a mug and pour her a cup, my head pounding as my heartbeat pulses at my temples, whispering in my ear – ‘stupid ass, stupid ass, stupid ass’ as my stomach churns out a ‘you are not twenty-fucking-five’ and my legs bark, ‘your attempt was lame at best.’

“Did we dance?” Serena asks. “We totally danced, didn’t we?”

“Oh, yeah,” I confirm as my lower back screams, ‘Haha, bitch, I told you not to drink that last bottle.’

“Where is everyone?” She asks, tying her hair in a knot and securing it.

“Our amazing parents took Gracie, Wyatt, and Conner into town for breakfast at the inn and to get pictures with Santa at the pharmacy. Mom was going to attempt to rid Peyton of his contempt, but Eli stepped in and whisked him away with a promise to build another snowman.”

“Eli saved him from Santa?” Serena glances into the dining room to see Eli sitting at the head of the table, pouring Cheerios onto Peyton’s highchair. Peyton pounds at his cereal with a plastic hammer before shoving the remnants into his mouth as Thatch joins them at Eli’s side.

Serena’s expression softens considerably as she watches Eli dote on her son, and it’s then I know this cheese has been left to stand alone.

Eli has managed to win Serena, and surprisingly I’m fine with it.

I grin at Peyton as he hammers away. I couldn’t resist giving him his workshop early—his reaction was a hundred percent worth it. He’s been playing with it nonstop since I set it in front of him after dinner last night before passing out early presents to the rest of the kids. My only regret is that Peyton’s chosen it as his weapon of choice this morning. Eli looks up at me with sympathy as Peyton bangs away, a sexy grin whispering over his lips before he mouths a ‘good morning.’ The sight of him sleep rumpled, hair disheveled, definitely one I could get used to. I was all too tempted to rouse him from sleep before I hit my wall last night, but I know he wouldn’t have let it go far. Sinking into his gaze now, I’m brought back to our kiss and his latest revelation. Peyton rips Eli’s attention away with an attempt to grab the box of Cheerios, and it’s then that I catch sight of Thatch’s forlorn expression as he stares out the window.

“He’s so pissed at me,” Serena whispers.

“For?”

“I don’t know, our fight yesterday, I guess. He wasn’t in bed when I woke up.”