Page 67 of Her Christmas Wish
Him or her.
The image brought to mind a slightly larger version of Leigh the first time she’d laid eyes on her daughter. A picture minus the tubes and tapes. Maybe a boy. Or another little girl.
And she sat with it.
Tears dripping down her cheeks.
As she tipped her bottle and swallowed.
Gray wanted to have sex with Sage again.
And again and again and again.
He’d once wanted to surf across the ocean, too.
And he’d wanted his mother to meet a man she loved, who loved her, and get married.
He’d wanted his grandmother to be well enough for him to be able to leave her to go to his junior prom. He’d already asked the girl, and she’d said yes.
He knew how to live with unresolved desire. How to move forward, past it. To focus on things he wanted that were within his ability to achieve. To stay there until the sting of disappointment dissipated. At least for most of his conscious hours. Until pushing aside the need became habit.
He was very proficient at the habit-forming part of it all.
He focused every ounce of his energy in other, more positive endeavors. Like vetting all the applications that poured in formally after the luncheon.
And watching the dollar amounts rise in the investor accounts, too.
He surfed. A lot.
Stayed off the beach, otherwise.
And when all else failed—as it did a week after their night on the beach—he scrounged for immediate diversion. He’d arrived at Sage’s office right on time that next Friday afternoon, completed his business with her—trussed up in one of his most conservative suits and fully knotted tie—and was sitting in the chair with her desk between them. He was mentally preparing himself for the next session that was to include one of her partners, when her phone rang. Said partner had unfortunately been forced to take an emergency call, thought he’d just be a few minutes and asked if they’d wait for him.
It was the first time they’d been alone, with no business to conduct, since the unmentionable occurrence on the beach. The other couple of times he’d seen her that week, he’d left as soon as they were through with whatever had called him up to see her.
He watched her on the phone with her peer, frowning as the conversation progressed. When she’d hung up and dialed a receptionist to let her know about the partner needing not to be disturbed—he couldn’t help but wonder if she seemed a bit edgier than usual. Even more so than she’d been the first day he’d been there in her office.
Or was he just imagining things?
To ask would ensure that she was edgy.
They weren’t bringing up that night. At least not until some of the burrs had been worn down enough for them to do so with a shrug or a chuckle at their immature behavior.
Feeling the tension growing in him, he went over his final eighteen veterinarian applicant choices one last time. Sage would be contacting them all by email to start the paperwork process as soon as her meetings with him were through for the day.
He knew to redirect unproductive thoughts with issues of importance to him. Most particularly with emotional attachment—like him getting his life back a hell of a lot sooner than he’d ever even hoped could be possible.
Life back meant finding a new home.
Which brought him back to the beach. And the possibility of buying the still-dilapidated cabin at the end of the road.
He spiraled down from there. Found himself staring into space—gaze pointed directly at Sage—a fact he noticed only when she said, “Is something wrong?”
Unhinging, he dug deep and blurted, “I couldn’t go to my junior prom.”
Flipping wonderful.Way to save the day.
Sage’s frown was full-blown and filled with confusion. “What?” He wanted to smooth the lines from her forehead. And kiss those lips again. For a long time. As he had the other night.
