Page 39 of Her Christmas Wish
“You do?”
Her gaze at him was steadfast. “Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re Uncle Scott’s friend and Uncle Scott loves me.” The little one’s tone of voice sounded as though she was talking to a child who didn’t understand. The answer was clearly obvious to her.
And not one of the twelve or so he’d come up with. A lot of them dealing with her mother. But Leigh’s version was also true. And worked just fine.
As the little girl ran off, Scott took a long sip of beer. And digested the fact that Sage, and/or Scott, had chosen not to mention that Gray had also, once, a long time before, been friends with her mother, too.
Chapter Twelve
Leigh ran up to Sage as she was coming back from gathering up dessert supplies and tools. “Mommy, Mommy... Mr...” The child stopped, saw the bag hanging over Sage’s wrist and the tools in her hand. “It’s s’mores time! Yay!” Leigh ran off—to tell any number of people that it was time for dessert, Sage was sure, when suddenly the child turned back around.
“Mr. Buzzing Bee isn’t mad at me!” she announced gleefully and headed back to the crowd.
Not everyone wanted the toasty snack. On the contrary, most didn’t. But people pitched in to help create Leigh’s favorite treat, and Sage caught several smiles in Leigh’s direction from the residents settling down to their lawn chairs, as conversations broke up to twos and threes, and quieted.
That was when Sage noticed Gray, sitting in the chair Scott had loaned him, a bit closer to the beach than anyone else. Sipping his beer.
Having clearly pulled his chair back after everyone else had settled.
Iris jumped up from the chair next to Scott’s empty one. “I’ve got this,” she said to Sage, nodding toward the marshmallow Scott was grilling, and Leigh, who, with chocolate on her face and sticky fingers, was waiting to carry a plate with the beloved treat to Dale, who’d asked for one.
The photographer nodded toward Gray and said, “Go.”
She couldn’t go.
Didn’t want to go.
Iris nodded toward Leigh’s empty chair. And back toward Gray. As if to say, scoot.
Leaving Sage the choice to make enough of a scene that someone, worst of all Leigh, would catch on that something was going on. And included in that choice, leading Iris to believe that Sage couldn’t handle a few minutes alone with their new neighbor.
Or, pick up her chair and join Gray for a couple of minutes of casual beach chat.
With a mental promise to verbally decimate her twin for telling anyone about her past with Grayson Bartholomew, Sage picked up her chair.
Gray saw her coming. He could have prevented a quiet conversation in the dark, with nice people gathered in front of them, and the ocean flowing in steady, soft waves behind them.
But it was time to man up. To realize that the love he’d felt for Sage in the past had been the real thing. Ill-fated, yes. But not going to die.
He hadn’t left her because he hadn’t loved her. He’d left her because he couldn’t be the man she’d needed.
And still couldn’t.
It was time to come face-to-face with that fact. Put it right there between them—a solid, unbreakable wall.
She didn’t ask if she could join him. Just unfolded her chair and set it next to his.
He took a sip of his beer. To appear nonchalant. And for liquid bravery. It was only his second. He’d never been all that big of a drinker.
“Where’s your wine cooler?” he asked, building up to making the wall. Wine and wine coolers were all he’d ever known her to drink. And neither any more heavily than he’d ever imbibed.
“I left it in the house when I went for the s’mores,” she told him. “I only ever have the one, and rarely finish that anymore. Being a parent...changes things.”
Bingo. Bullet to the target.
