The Plight Before Christmas(91)

“Traitorous little shit,” I mutter beneath the roar of the table. Peyton grins broadly, proud of himself for causing such a reaction. Laughter slowing, Eli’s smiling eyes catch mine, a fond sparkle inside them I recognize. His expression softens further as he runs a soothing hand over my head before cupping my cheek briefly, his thumb brushing my jaw before he pulls it away.

“You okay?”

“I think so.”

He’s not even trying to mask his affection for me at this point, and I know all eyes are on us as the laughter slows, but I can’t bring myself to care.

Even with my scalp screaming, I feel the urgent need to free myself of the rest of my hurt and resentment—if only to give myself a chance. To be able to open myself to him. It’s one thing to say you forgive someone, another thing entirely to actually do it. Within these weighted seconds, I feel the shift of it. The bulk of it beginning to lift as an age-old question circles my mind.

What if?

“I don’t remember going to bed,” Serena speaks up. “How exactly did I get there?”

Tearing my eyes from Eli, I nod toward Thatch, who keeps his focus on his uneaten breakfast. It’s when Serena addresses him that the whole table tenses in unease. “Hey, husband.”

Thatch looks up, his eyes weary.

“I love you,” she stresses, evident ache in her declaration. “You know that, right?”

Thatch nods and stands, turning to Eli. “Meet you in the garage?”

“Right behind you,” Eli assures as Thatch takes his bowl to the kitchen before making his way to the hall tree. Serena stares after him as he slides on his jacket and into his boots before slipping out the front door. Coffee in hand, she stands, her voice shaking when she speaks. “I’m going to go shower.”

My eyes follow as she makes her way up the stairs, and I turn to Eli, who raises a brow in question. Despite the urge to go after her, I dip my chin in agreement with him and let her go because he’s right. They have to figure this out for themselves. As much as I want to help, I can’t bridge the gap between them. It’s something they have to work through together.

“Fuck, I hope they figure that shit out,” Brenden mutters. “It’s painful to watch.”

Opening my mouth to speak, Eli beats me to it. “He’s hurting because he loves her, and he’s terrified he can’t be the man she needs. I’ve been there.”

Before I can soak in his statement fully, Eli stands and addresses Brenden. “See you out there.”

Without waiting for his reply, Eli walks over to the hall tree, putting on his jacket and boots before closing the door softly behind him. Eyes lingering on the front door, I sit stunned by his confession while my heart lurches in the direction he left.

“How long are you going to deny you still feel for him, Whitney?” Brenden asks as Erin fidgets uncomfortably next to him. In the painfully sober light of day, Erin is far less liberal—as am I. It seems my ex is braver in that sense now, where he used to cower completely. He’s right. The tables have turned. He’s willing to give in to the whims of his heart out in the open now. Something I used to be able to do so freely—so recklessly—without much thought of self-preservation.

“Come on, buddy,” I say to Peyton, unsnapping his bib, “let’s go play.”

“Whitney,” Brenden snaps in a rare, serious tone. “He’s practically been on his knees the whole time he’s been here.”

“Let it go, Brenden. It’s not your place.”

“You’re being a jerk.”

“You know, maybe I am. It’s still between the two of us,” I snap.

“He’s a fucking great guy. If you’d give him—”

Fed up, I glare at my brother while waving my hand to cut him off. “You don’t know the full story because you never asked. And you never asked because you’re the definition of a narcissist. You rarely give a crap about anything that doesn’t involve you.”

“Whatever, you’re fucking up, and someone needs to point it out to you.”

“Is that so? Is that what we’re doing right now? Are we pointing out each other’s fuck ups? Okay, how about I answer your question as soon as you acknowledge that you bulldozed your wife into making the life-altering decision to move away from a city she grew up in and loved. Away from her parents, lifelong friends, her church, and her community to suit your selfish ambition—and in the process, it’s made her miserable. How’s that for fucking up?”





Erin’s mouth goes slack, her furious eyes meeting mine as I nervously glance over at her.

“I’m so sorry, sis. It’s just that I love you so much, and you’re hurting so badly.” I avert my gaze back to my brother. “For someone so intent on pointing out what’s painfully obvious to me, why can’t you see your own wife is hiding her pain to make your life easier. Even so, how is it you can’t recognize how devastated she is, you stupid ass. You need to stop thinking your success is any sort of consolation for all that you’ve taken away from her before she really starts to resent you.”

Gathering Peyton from his highchair, I leave Brenden and Erin at the table as utter silence ensues, knowing I just opened a can of worms. Halfway up the stairs, Brenden finally speaks up.