“You know I love seeing you, dear. Especially around the holidays. But I think you’d better tell me why you called to say ‘Merry Christmas’ and fourteen hours later you’re here in Italy.”

My mother and I were sitting side by side in the spa at the CastaDiva Resort on Lake Como. My body was wrapped in a white plush robe and my feet were getting an elaborate pedicure.

Yesterday morning I had been home in Montana. Today I was in Italy for an unplanned but necessary vacation.

“It’s a long story, Mom,” I said.

“Then we’d best get a bottle of wine while you tell me what is going on.”

“You’d better make it two.”

An hour later, she was caught up on my complicated love life and we were both tipsy.

“What happened after Logan left?” she asked.

“I drove to the grocery store and loaded up on junk food. Then I camped out on the couch for the rest of the weekend, binge-watching old episodes of Friends for four days.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“Logan? No. I sent him a text saying Merry Christmas but that was it.” I left out the part where he had responded by asking me not to text him again because he needed to put some distance between us. Apparently, two thousand miles weren’t enough.

“And Nick?” she asked.

“He came to my school the Monday after Thanksgiving. I said I wasn’t ready to see him yet and asked him to stop pushing. He agreed, but I think it was only because I told him Logan and I had broken up.”

The look of relief on Nick’s face was burned into my brain. I’d wanted to slap him for being so glad that I had been heartbroken. But at the same time, that look had been honest and pure. Everything that he had been telling me had been true.

He wasn’t playing a game. He wanted another chance and he had been genuinely scared that I would choose Logan.

“I haven’t seen him, but he sends me text messages every day,” I said. “Usually just says hello. Tells me what he’s up to. They’re thoughtful.”

“Hmm. And why did you come here?” she asked.

“I was lonely,” I confessed. “I poured myself into work after Thanksgiving. There is this boy in my class that I’ve been trying to get to open up to me, so I spent a lot of extra time creating special activities he would like. But school is on break right now and I was sitting at home, alone, and needed to get out of there. The whole town of Prescott was decked out in Christmas. I didn’t even have a tree. It was depressing.”

“Sounds like you are running away to pout.”

“I am n—” I started but clamped my mouth shut. “I know,” I sighed.

“What do you want to do about Nick?”

“I don’t know. What would you do?”

“It’s not my decision, Emmeline. But in my opinion, there’s a reason why you didn’t get divorced. And it has nothing to do with your father’s absurd logic or pride. It’s the same reason why you turned Logan down when he asked you to marry him. The fact that you moved to the same town where Nick lived is . . . unbelievable. It’s fate. If it were me? I would see where it goes. You two might not make it. But at least you finally have that chance to try.”

“What if I can’t ever get over it, forgive him for leaving me?” I asked.

“Darling, your heart already has,” she said. “You just need to give your brain a chance to catch up.”

The society rags loved to portray my mother as snobbish and shallow. In many ways, she was. Her affairs had always made Page Six and she had never tried to hide her wealth.

But she had a softer side, one she mostly reserved for her children and loved ones. One she kept hidden from the public eye as a means to keep the vultures at bay.

Collette Austin was incredibly smart and kind. And when it came to me, she had the uncanny ability to read my suppressed emotions. Mom often knew how I was feeling even before I did. For a New York socialite turned permanent Italian tourist, she was incredibly wise.

“Thanks, Mom. And thanks for letting me barge in on your holiday plans. Is Alesso going to be put out?” I asked.

“I love to have you here any time. Pouting or not.” She smiled. “And Alesso’s fine. He loves you. I think he was relieved, actually, when I told him we were going to spend the whole day at the spa. His family is visiting, and whenever they’re around, he has to interpret for me. They talk too fast for me to keep up.”

“You know, you could learn his language.”

“Ridiculous.” She waved her hand in the air to dismiss the idea. “How long are you staying?”

“Through New Year’s. I need to get back a few days before school starts again to prepare.”

“Excellent! I want to go on a lake tour to see all of the Christmas lights but Alesso is scared of boats. You can go with me.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I said.

Cruising around the Lake Como coast would be frigid but taking in the gorgeous, snow-covered Italian buildings trimmed with sparkling Christmas lights was worth braving the cold.

“I’ve missed you, dear,” she said. “We’re going to plan a trip to Montana. I need to see what the fuss is all about.”

“I’ve missed you too. Visit anytime before summer.”

I didn’t expand on my timing request. Instead, I relaxed into my seat and closed my eyes. While one technician manicured my fingernails, another started a facial.

If I decided to move away from Prescott this summer, Lake Como, Italy, was quickly climbing up my list for potential new hometowns.

Nick

 

Fuck space.

I’d tried to respect Emmy’s wishes and give her time to herself, but that shit wasn’t working for me anymore. Now that she was back from wherever she’d gone for the holidays, her space was as good as gone.

It had been over a month since I’d seen her, and though I’d kept in touch, sending a text message every day wasn’t the same as looking at her beautiful face.

I needed to touch her. To smell the coconut in her hair. To look into her eyes.

So, fuck space. I was switching tactics.

I had pushed her hard in Vegas with my dares and challenges. And since I’d had much better results then, I would try that again now.

Raising my fist, I pounded on her front door.

I watched her march my way through one of the five rectangular windows that filled the front door, rolling her eyes when she realized I was at her house.

Christ, I loved that eye roll.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. I just bent down to pick up the bags resting at my feet and pushed past her into the house, walking straight to the kitchen.

“Nick!” she called but I ignored her again. I deposited the groceries on the island while she scowled at me from the kitchen doorway. My teeth clenched together and I fought back a curse. She’d lost weight and there were dark purple rings under her eyes.

“Come on, Emmy. We’re making dinner. From the looks of it, you could use a decent meal.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you look like shit. When’s the last time you ate? Those clothes are hanging off of you.” The black dress she wore looked more like a rectangular bag than a fitted dress. Though, her legs still looked smoking hot in those tall-ass shoes.

Her eyes got wide and her mouth fell open an inch. “Excuse me? Insulting me is not doing you any favors.”

“Emmy, even exhausted and miserable, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world so don’t get too bent out of shape. Now get in here so we can start cooking.”

Her face flushed and I turned away to start un-bagging groceries, smiling to myself.

I gave her a few moments and then ordered, “Emmy. Get in here. Find a cutting board and a knife.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

I spun around to look her directly in the eyes. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

“Oh for the love . . .” she muttered and stomped into the kitchen.

“Get out a frying pan too. And a big wooden spoon.”

She opened cupboard after cupboard to get my tools. Coffee mugs were in every one. She must have a hundred of them tucked away.

“What are you making?” she asked.

“Fajitas,” I said. “And you’re making them.”

“I assume you’ll be helping me?”

I smiled.

Her eyes moved to my mouth and her breath hitched. She was just as affected by me as I was by her. I just needed to get her to admit it so we could move forward.

Five minutes later, she was at the island attempting to chop a green bell pepper.

Holy fuck, she was bad at this. “You’re doing great.”

Her slices were six times too wide, nothing like the example I’d shown her. Not only were her cuts uneven, making them took forever. If I didn’t step in to help, we wouldn’t eat until midnight.

“I’ll just do a few of these too,” I said, reaching for an onion. I wanted to tease her but decided to save it for a different day when we were on better terms.

When she’d finally finished with one pepper, I’d sliced the other three, the onion and the chicken.

“Spices next. Sprinkle a teaspoon of all three over the meat and vegetables,” I said, handing her three small jars.

After finishing her task, she hopped up on the counter to drink the glass of wine I had handed her.

I took a deep breath and summoned all of my willpower to keep from walking into the space between her legs and taking her mouth. Someday soon I was going to have her again. She would be right here in the kitchen, in that exact position, moaning my name.

“Where did you learn to cook?” she asked.

“Mostly from experimenting on my own. After Mom died, Dad tried to cook for my brother and me but his food was shit. He gave up and would just take us to McDonald’s or Taco Bell. I got sick of eating fast food so I started to mess around in the kitchen. I wasn’t good at it at first but then I started to get the hang of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Other than Mom not being there, I enjoyed it.” I went to the fridge and grabbed one of the beers I’d brought over. “Where’d you run off to?”

“I decided to go see my mom last minute,” she said. “Wait. How did you know I was gone?”

“I came by to give you your Christmas present and saw you’d left. I checked on the house a couple of times while you were gone.”

“Oh. You didn’t need to do that, but thank you. You really got me a Christmas gift?” she asked.

“Isn’t it customary to buy your spouse a present? Does that mean you didn’t get me anything?” I feigned surprise.

“You are not funny.”

I smiled. “You say that now, but just wait until you get my present.”

I’d gotten her a coffee mug for her collection. I thought it was hilarious and hoped she’d like it too. But now, after seeing the insides of her kitchen cabinets, I was concerned that she already had it.

“I thought you said your mom lived in Italy. Is that where you went?”

“She does. And yes, they live in Milan but usually spend the holidays at a resort on Lake Como. I spent a couple weeks with her and Alesso there.”

“I’m glad you could go see her.”

“Me too. What did you do?”

“Nothing much. Took a few days off work. Spent some time chopping firewood. Read a book.”

“You didn’t go anywhere for Christmas?” she asked.

“I did. I came here.”

Her shoulders fell. “Sorry. I just needed some time away.”

I walked from the island to stand at her side and leaned down into her face, gently taking hold of her chin. “I get that, Emmy. But no more running away. I told you I’m not letting you go, so you need to get used to having me in your life. Every day. No more space.”

“I am not ready. I just ended a five-year relationship.”

“Get ready,” I said. “I thought about you every day for nine years, wondered what you were doing. I had questions I wanted to ask but couldn’t. Those nine years are on me. It was my mistake to walk away from you but I’m not doing it again. And I won’t let you do it either. All I’m asking for is time. I’ll prove to you that you can trust me again.”

“I can’t promise to forgive you, Nick. It still hurts.”

The pain behind her words was like a punch to the gut.

I was such a fucking asshole.

“I don’t need a promise. Just a chance to erase that pain,” I said and leaned all the way down to brush my lips across hers. She was frozen stiff but that didn’t stop me from keeping my lips against hers for a few perfect seconds.

When I leaned back, tears glistened in her eyes.

“Don’t cry, my sweet Emmy.”

She sniffled and blinked away the tears. “Can we change the subject?”

“Yeah. What to?”

“Which book did you read over Christmas?”

I walked to the stove. “The Count of Monte Cristo. It’s a favorite.”

For the next hour, we talked about books and ate dinner. Emmy relaxed and we were able to enjoy each other’s company without drama or stress. It was the best meal I’d had in years. Because I was finally with my Emmy.

Emmeline

 

“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.

“Nothing,” I lied, erasing the scowl on my face.

Nick had just sidestepped the stream of children rushing out the door. He smiled at each of them, but when Rowen Cleary had run up to him, he had picked her up and tossed her in the air, calling her “princess” and asking about her day.

Nick would make a great dad.

It was happening again. Spontaneous Nick thoughts.

That one had come out of nowhere and caused my face to scrunch up. My bat-shit craziness was getting worse.

“What are you doing here?”

“Picking you up for dinner,” he said.

“It’s only three thirty. I prefer to put at least six hours between meals and I ate lunch at noon.”

“I’m not here to take you now, Emmy. But I’m giving you a heads-up that I’ll be back at five thirty. Don’t drive home.”

“You could have texted me all of this,” I said.

“Yeah. But then I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

He crossed the space between us in a millisecond and captured my mouth, wrapping his arms around my waist. His lips pressed roughly against mine as his tongue swept my lower lip. Over and over he stroked until my mouth fell open. When his tongue found mine, I melted. Heat erupted throughout my body and my knees gave out.

When I started to sink to the floor, he stopped kissing me but tightened his grip on my waist.

“I’ve got you.” A crooked grin formed on his lips.

I took a moment to steady my legs and stand tall before stepping back a foot. The skin around my mouth was surely pink from the contact with his beard. But at least it would match my flushed cheeks.

“Five thirty,” he said and walked out the door.

Shit.

Thinking clearly was not an option after a Nick kiss but I really needed to pull myself together. I’d spent last night tossing and turning, replaying all the things Nick had told me these last few months.

You’ve always had my heart, Emmy.

We’re it for each other.

I thought about you every day for nine years.

And I thought about what my mother had said. That my heart had already forgiven him and I just needed to get my head straight with that concept.

Sinking into my chair, I let my head fall into my hands. “What am I going to do?”

I tried to picture what our life could be like. Me happy. Nick and I living a normal life. But every time that image popped in my head, it was immediately followed by the vision of me waking up alone to a note that said he was sorry.

Time was ticking away and I needed to make some decisions. My attorney had emailed me while I was in Italy to say he’d have my divorce papers drafted by the end of the month. Nick was not going to stop inserting himself into my life unless I made it clear we were over.

Were we over?

For nine years, I’d thought we were. But so much was different now. He was everything that I remembered. Kind. Affectionate. Intelligent.

And stubborn. Every time I tried to push him away, he just pushed back harder. But honestly, I really hadn’t put up much of a fight against his advances.

“Ten seconds ago, you let him stick his tongue down your throat with no fight at all, Emmeline,” I mumbled into my hands.

“Ms. Austin?”

My head flew up. Mason Carpenter was standing in front of my desk. “Mason. I’m sorry. I thought all of you kids had gone home. Are you okay?” I asked, standing up, then kneeling by his feet.

Ever since I had bought the children shoes, Mason had started opening up to me. He still wasn’t speaking to any of his fellow students, with the exception of Rowen, but now he would talk to me as long as I was kneeling down with him and no other students were listening.

“I was wondering if I could eat lunch inside tomorrow with you,” he whispered.

“Sure,” I said. “Can you tell me why you don’t want to go outside with the other kids?”

“It’s really cold outside. And today Rowen gave me her extra coat but the other kids were making fun of me because it was pink.”

How had I not noticed Rowen bringing him another coat? Or that he hadn’t been wearing one when he’d arrived at school? I made a mental note to email Rich again, hoping this would be enough to start digging further into Mason’s home situation.

“You know? This will work out perfectly. I was just going to ask if you wouldn’t mind helping me over lunch. I’m really having a hard time getting all of my work done and the classroom set up for our afternoon activities. Maybe you could help me?”

He nodded and gave me a small smile.

“Maybe we can check to see if Rowen wants to help out too.”

This time, I got the dimple.

“Where are we going?”

“The fire station,” Nick said, driving along the highway.

Past two gas stations, Main Street merged with the highway that led out of town. Other than my trips to the grocery store, I hadn’t explored the businesses in this area, so I stared out the window, taking them all in.

We had almost reached the hospital when Nick turned left and followed a side street to a tall, narrow building made of gray concrete blocks. In its center was a large white garage door. A Prescott Fire Department sign arched above it.

Nick parked alongside the building and climbed out to open my door. He captured my hand and tugged me behind him as he unlocked a tinted glass door and walked inside the station.

“Wow.” My eyes traveled around the large, concrete room. “It’s much bigger on the inside than I would have guessed.”

“The tour’s pretty easy since you can see everything from this spot. But that’s the fire truck,” he said, pointing out the obvious. The red truck occupied half of the long building, other than some tools mounted on the walls.

“That far wall has all the volunteer lockers where we stow the gear. My office is over there,” he said, indicating a room made mostly of glass panels in the back corner. “Behind it is the bathroom. And over here is the on-call pit.” He pulled me toward a lounge area at our left.

The space was filled with two old couches and three beat-up recliners, all of which were pointed at a huge TV. Under the television was a cabinet filled with every gaming console imaginable and a pile of action films.

“What’s an on-call pit?”

“A place for the on-call volunteers to hang out. This time of year, we don’t have the volunteers stay at the station. Whoever is on-call just has to make sure they’re in town and can be reached on their pagers. But during forest fire season, we have them stay here. I take the day shifts since most of them have regular jobs, but they come in and spot me at night.”

“Do they get paid? Or are they truly volunteers?” I asked.

“They get paid. It’s not enough to make a living but it makes their time hanging out here worth it. And we all make serious cake if we get pulled in on a fire.”

“Interesting. So what are we doing here? Are you on-call or something?”

“No. Thought I’d show you the station and make you dinner.”

“Here?” There was a kitchen behind the lounge area but it was tiny.

“Yeah. Spaghetti okay?” he asked.

“Sure. Though, I shouldn’t have worn a white top today.” Somehow I always managed to spill red sauces on myself.

He smiled. “You can borrow a sweatshirt.”

I climbed up on a stool by the kitchen and visited with him while he did his cooking, admiring the way he moved in the small space. For a man with such muscle and size, Nick was graceful, and in the kitchen, it made him sexy as hell.

Thankfully, he asked me about my day, so rather than sit and ogle his body, I launched into my whole story about Mason.

“Have you talked to Jess?” he asked.

“Jess? No. Why?”

“I’m sure he’d look into it for you.”

“I would but I don’t want to go around Rich. I don’t know if that would be professional. Though, I’d love to move this along a little quicker. It’s really cold out right now. What if Mason doesn’t have heat at home? Or food?” The thought of cute little Mason Carpenter freezing or starving to death made my stomach ache.

“Just ask the kid, Emmy. If you think he’s at risk, then talk to Garcia again. If he still delays getting Jess involved, go around him. The last thing you want is for something horrible to happen to this kid because you were hesitant to push.”

“You’re right.” I frowned. I didn’t want to alienate Rich or worse, risk my job, but if that’s what it would take to get Mason through the winter, that’s just what I would have to do.

“I’ll cheer you up,” Nick said after putting a handful of noodles into a pot of boiling water.

I gave him a sideways glance and raised my eyebrows.

He smiled and pulled a square box from a bag on the counter. It was wrapped in green foil with a red and white ribbon on top.

“My present?”

“I hope you don’t have it already.”

Carefully opening the paper, I unfolded the top of the box and lifted out a white ceramic coffee mug. In swirly black script, the cup read Sorry I’m late . . . I didn’t want to come.

My nose started to burn and I rapidly blinked the tears away.

It was perfect.

Logan had always made fun of me for my coffee cup obsession and discouraged me from buying such “witless trinkets.” He would have never bought me one.

Nick frowned. “You don’t like it.”

“No! It’s wonderful,” I said. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t much. But I saw it and it made me think of you.”

“It’s just the type of mug I would have bought myself. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“I only need you, Emmy,” he said and went back to the stove.

Wow, that felt good.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting on one of the on-call pit’s leather couches, wearing a huge red Prescott Fire Department sweatshirt and scarfing down the best spaghetti I had ever tasted.

If being married to Nick means I get to eat meals like this on a regular basis, I might have to call Fred Andrews and cancel those divorce papers.

Another spontaneous Nick thought.