Page 63 of When You Were Mine

“I’ve got a bent for you.” He said it matter-of-factly. “None of those temptations, as you call them, really interested me.”

“Okay, you’re being ridiculous. In all this time, you’ve never had a passionate fling or a wild hookup? You’ve never gotten blind drunk?”

“Did you hear my story about how I came to have a son? Trust me, that was my one and only hookup, and I haven’t been drunk since.” But he’d said enough, and it was time to go back to the plan of being friendly and not pushing. So, he picked up a mug with a Viking design and wooden handle and pretended to consider it. “Your event sounds great.”

She seemed lost in thought and didn’t move for a moment. But then, she said, “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Even better, my oldest niece is getting married on Christmas Eve.”

“That’s a strange choice. Won’t their anniversary take second place to a big holiday?”

“We tried to warn them, but they met at a Christmas Eve party, so it means a lot to them. They were on the same team for a gingerbread house competition and spent the whole night talking and drinking cocoa, so the table decorations are?—”

“Gingerbread houses?”

“You got it. And we’ve got an elaborate hot chocolate station, so yeah. It’s really sweet. Also, they jokingly like to say it’s a date they know they’ll remember.”

“I get that. My parents never remembered their anniversary.”

“Well, no. They probably did. They just didn’t believe in celebrating themselves.”

A prick of awareness sent a shot of adrenaline through him. Funny how he’d never seen it like that before, and yet, it was so obvious.

“You look like I just rocked your world. You were the one who complained they had no joy.”

“Yeah.” He clamped a hand at the back of his neck. “But I never thought about it likethat.”How fucking sad.“You know, I don’t have a single memory of them laughing.”

“Or celebrating you. Your mom would bake cakes for the farmhand’s kids, but she never once threw you a birthday party.”

Sometimes, she’d make him a special dinner. A chicken casserole and lemon meringue pie. But no parties. Not even for graduation. “But you did. You celebrated all my victories.”

“Well, sure. I felt sorry for you.” She flashed him a teasing look before picking up a travel mug. “Oh, look. Puffins. How cute is that?”

“Hey, now. No need for pity. I got my mom’s special chicken casserole.”

He could see her try to fight it, but the laugh broke free. “I loved your mom. I really did. But she was the worst cook.” She held his gaze with true compassion. “I’m sorry for your loss. Losing them so close together had to have hit hard.”

“Couldn’t have been more fitting for them though, right?” His dad died of a heart attack, sitting in his tractor, alone in a field, and eating a ham sandwich. His mom passed away less than a month later. She just didn’t wake up one morning.

It was unbearably sad.

Elzy’s arms were loaded with gifts, so he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Let me grab you a basket.” He moved quickly, lowering his head to keep from being noticed. He’d expected to spend his time in cars and kitchens, so he hadn’t bothered with a disguise.

He didn’t see any baskets by the entrance, so he bought several large recyclable totes and a wool beanie. Bumping into Trevor Montgomery in a tourist shop in Iceland was out of context, so he wouldn’t need more than a hat.

After pulling it down over his ears, he held a tote open for her and jammed the others under his arm. “Here.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” She dropped her items into it but kept her gaze on him. “You’re hilarious if you think no one will notice you in that hat. You’re a movie star with one of the most recognizable faces in the world. There’s no disguising it.”

“I’ve been retired three years.”

“Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Stay humble.”

“What? I’m in Iceland. No one would expect to see me here.”

“Are we really going to do this?” She gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Do what?”

“You’re an unusually handsome man. Even if you didn’t star in theClan Warsfranchise, people would still notice you.”

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