A Cross-Country Christmas(65)
Neither of them said anything, both staring over the yard, where, in the distance, he could see the moonlight reflecting on the river.
“I’m really sorry about your grandpa,” she finally said.
He hated that he couldn’t respond—his voice wouldn’t have held up.
“You didn’t say anything about his health or why you were really taking this trip.”
He blew out a breath. “It’s hard to talk about.”
She stilled. “Are you okay?”
No. I’m not.
For a million reasons, he wasn’t okay.
“That cake, I—” She sat next to him.
“Maybe I should’ve canceled it.” While he’d really wanted to be the one to make that wish come true for her, the gesture felt misguided in light of what he’d discovered about their history.
“Why?” She faced him. “I meant what I said—it was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You took a twelve-year-old girl’s dream and made it come true.” She paused. “Thank you.”
He kept his gaze fixed on the yard, the trees, anything but her. “It hardly makes up for—”
“Things are strange between us now,” she cut in, then paused. “I don’t like it.”
He glanced at her. “I don’t like it either.”
“I’m sorry I ever told you what happened at that party.” She sighed, and rethought that. “Actually, that’s not true. I’m glad I told you because I needed to get it out there, but I’m sorry it put this wedge between us.”
“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing,” he said. “It’s good for me to remember sometimes how my actions affected other people. I was so selfish. So stupid. I hurt everyone who loved me.”
“But you’re not that guy anymore.”
He scoffed.
“I really believe that, Will, and your family believes it too.” He caught the edge of her smile in the blue light of the moon. “They’re all so proud of you—and they should be. You didn’t let your mistakes ruin your life.”
“They wouldn’t have let me,” he said.
“You’re so lucky to have them. You don’t even know.” She went still at that. “Or. . .maybe you do. You were over enough at my house to see how messed up things were there.”
He didn’t answer—but yeah, he knew.
“If I had a family like yours, I’d love coming home for Christmas, too.”
He smiled. “They’re pretty great.” They both glanced toward the house, and Lauren half-expected to find the three women still standing in the kitchen, watching them.
Instead, they saw an empty room, a single light over the kitchen sink.
He turned back to her. “And they love you.”
She looked up at him. “Really?”
“Since we got home, every single person in that house has found a way to tell me how great you are. And three of them made sure to add, ‘If you screw this up, you’re an idiot.’”
She giggled, and then, her smile faded. “You know, Will, I’ve kept my heart all locked up for most of my adult life.”
“Because of me?”
“Not entirely. I think it had a lot to do with my family.” She went still. “But also because of you.”
“You have no idea how much I hate that,” he said.
“I’m not telling you that so you’ll feel bad. I just think you need to understand the whole picture. I don’t ever put myself in a situation where I might get hurt.” She kicked at something invisible, her shoe leaving an imprint in the thin layer of freshly fallen snow. “I don’t like taking risks on anyone other than myself, and only then when I’ve done so much research it doesn’t feel risky anymore. I focus on the things I can control. I date guys I have no real interest in because I know they can’t hurt me. I’m perfectly content to spend my weekends working or reading or reading about my work.”
She turned toward him. “But I realize now that some things—some people—are worth the risk.”
He searched her eyes, his heart racing hopefully. “Lauren, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I know being confronted with our past can be a lot, and yes, we have some history—but I believe in second chances.”
He struggled to not let his emotions show. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Lauren.”
“Nobody deserves forgiveness, Will. That’s the point. That’s what grace is.”
“You sound like my mom.” He chuckled. “One of her favorite things to say is, ‘there’s grace for that.’” His face turned serious. “But is there really? Is there grace for someone who’s made so many mistakes?”
She reached over and took his hand.
She inhaled a deep, slow breath. “You and me, Sinclair. Something about it just works.”
“You and me?”
She nodded. “It’s all we need.”
He reached for her. “I'm going to kiss you now.”
“Well, stop talking about it and do it already, wou—?”
And he did.
In that moment, he really did feel invincible. She made him think he could do anything. She inspired him to do better, to be better. And he wanted to experience it all with her.