Page 35 of All in for Christmas

Dean and I sit on the sofa holding hands by the light of the Christmas tree.

Orange and purple coils of flame circle the logs in the fireplace and soft holiday music plays.

A stubby pine-scented Christmas candle burns on the mantel, its short flame flitting back and forth and casting shadows along the walls.

Between the scent of the candle and our natural Christmas tree, this part of the house smells like a lush pine forest. So holiday cheery.

After we got home, I changed out of my sexy dress and the Spanx— thank goodness —so I could breathe, and into some comfy sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

Dean did the same, shedding his nice clothes for sweatpants and a T-shirt.

I’ve still got my flirty underwear on, and it makes me feel daring, like I’m guarding a secret from Dean.

I hope we’ll wind up in bed together again like we did last night, because Dean was amazing, and sweet, and sexy. My pulse hums. It was like no time had gone by between the two of us. Like we’re meant to be together, and that’s how it’s always been.

“I’m really sorry I got emotional at dinner.” I can’t have him thinking I’m a basket case, falling apart at every kind gesture. Although, in fact, I am. He makes me feel so cherished, like I’m his fated one. It’s a feeling that I’ll never take for granted anymore.

“Don’t even think about it.” His eyes shimmer in the firelight. “I get emotional myself.”

“Do not .”

Caring? Thoughtful? Yes.

Direct with your emotions? Absolutely.

Overly gushy? No.

His mouth pulls into a lopsided grin. “Okay, fine. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel things, too.”

Maybe when we were younger, I didn’t understand what we had. Maybe neither of us did completely. Now that our relationship has matured, it’s only gotten better, it seems. He undoes me with his kindness, and the way he kisses me sends me to the moon.

“I know you do.” My fingers tighten around his. There’s so much I want to know. So many gaps I want filled in. He’s poured us each a scotch and our glasses sit on the coffee table, ice cubes melting in the heat from the fire and turning the straw-colored liquid a paler gold.

He’s such a wonderful dad to Eleanor and Henry, and I believe him when he says he wouldn’t take any of this back. If I could remember this version of my past, I’m sure I wouldn’t have regrets, either. Still. I want him to have more. Everything he needs.

“Dean?” I lean my shoulder against his arm and lay my head on his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“I know you say Puerto Rico doesn’t matter, but I’m still sorry you missed the opportunity. It doesn’t seem right that I can go back to school and recoup my teaching dream when you’ve lost yours.”

He dips his head to peer in my eyes. “I haven’t lost mine.”

I’ve been thinking about this ever since we left the restaurant. I want to be able to support Dean the way he supports me. Assuming I’m allowed to stay here, and I intend to leave no stone unturned in making that happen.

“Maybe there’s still a way for you, too?” I say. “A fellowship or something, like Wendy—?”

“Who’s Wendy?” He wrinkles up his face. “Wait. Didn’t you mention her before?”

I purse my lips. “Er. Did I? Hmm. Funny. I’m not sure? I thought you’d said she was a colleague of some sort. Someone who’d gotten a physics grant?”

He considers this and shakes his head. “No. Don’t think so.” He reaches for our drinks, handing me my short tumbler and picking his up. “Maybe I’m remembering wrong,” he says, leaning back on the sofa.

But I’m the one with the memory issues, not him.

I want him to know everything. How my life has changed, and how much being here matters.

How I’ve fallen head over heels for him, and our kids, and our dog, but that sounds so wrong.

He’ll be crushed that I can’t recall their births and the intricate details of every birthday, the holidays and anniversaries we’ve shared, and the memories of the family we’ve created together.

What I can do is encourage him to make the most of this life, like he’s been encouraging me.

Part of me is dying to tell him about my other world, the place that I’ve come from, but my heart aches because I know he won’t understand.

He’s already reasoned it out to believe my crisis was about giving up teaching, and now he’s trying to help me reach that dream.

I can’t bring the alternate reality up again at this point, because that will only make him believe I’m unhappy in our marriage again, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

I’m happier now than I’ve ever been. Giving Dean any indication to the contrary would be a lie. I also can’t hurt him. I won’t. And if that makes our being together in some ways tougher on me, so be it. I want to make things easier for him.

I rest my glass of scotch on my sweatpants leg, and the tumbler’s weighty, a bit chilly. “What I’m trying to say is, maybe you should look into it? There could be research or work opportunities for high school science teachers. Summer programs? Fellowships?”

The dimple in his cheek deepens. “What about you and the kids?”

“We’d come with you! Make it an adventure! Eleanor hasn’t started kindergarten yet and will be out during the summer anyway.”

“And Scout?” He stares at our sleeping pup by the fire.

I sigh. “Maybe your folks wouldn’t mind watching him for a short while?”

“You’re right. They really love that dog; they’d probably take him in.”

“So?” I ask. “You’ll think about it?”

He winks and happiness grows inside me. “Sure.”

I can’t wait to get to the consignment stop tomorrow and purchase that telescope.

I’m even more determined about speaking with Mary Christmas, too.

If anyone can help me, it’s got to be her.

Could the Christmas candle on the table at the restaurant really have been a coincidence?

I know it’s a nice Italian place and candles on the table are typical there, but not that kind of candle in such a specific-looking holder.

Enjoy , Mary Christmas said. I am enjoying being here—so much.

But I’m wrecked that I can’t know the building blocks of this life.

I wish I could remember the many moments that brought us here from that night on my apartment stoop when I was twenty years old and saying goodbye.

Curiosity niggles at me about our past. “What made you come back?” I ask Dean, hoping he won’t mind sharing. “That morning when you were going to the airport?”

He takes a sip of scotch and sighs. This seems like a story he’s shared with me before, but it’s a bittersweet memory. I can tell he doesn’t mind repeating it, as part of our history that helped shape where we are.

“I was already at my gate after having gotten through security,” he says. “Then they started boarding the plane. People needing assistance and those with young children first.”

He turns to look at me, and the fond recollection plays out on his face.

“There was this cute young family. A mom and dad with a toddler girl in a stroller. They seemed to be juggling all sorts of baby paraphernalia, including a large diaper bag. They appeared somewhat disheveled, and very harried. And yet. Their love was so clear. For each other. For their family.”

He sets down his glass and takes mine, placing it beside his on the coffee table. He turns toward me on the sofa, speaking gently. “That’s when I knew,” he whispers, “I wanted that kind of life with you.”

A lump forms in my throat.

“I couldn’t lose you, Paige.” His hand cups my cheek, his face so near. “You were the love of my life.” A tender smile. “Still are.”

“Oh, Dean.”

He sweeps back my hair with his fingers, centers his palm at the base of my neck. “I knew I couldn’t go,” he mutters hoarsely. Electric tingles course through me, making me feel so alive, so cared for. Adored.

I lick my lips. “So you came back.”

“You were so surprised when I knocked on the door and you saw me standing there with my duffel bag. But you didn’t hesitate, not even for a second.

You leapt right into my arms and started crying, saying how badly you hadn’t wanted me to go.

Holding on so tightly my heart exploded with happiness, because I knew I’d made the right choice.

“That’s when I said I’d never leave you.

” He leans closer, his breath raking over my lips.

“And I meant that.” He gently brings his lips to mine in a kiss so silky smooth, my insides melt like butter.

I don’t know what I was thinking. How could I ever have believed that our breaking up was the best thing for the two of us?

What’s best for me and Dean is the two of us together.

He wraps his arms around me, and I hold on to him, never wanting to let him go.

I let him go that one time, but I shouldn’t have.

If he hadn’t come back for me, maybe I should have gone after him.

But no, I couldn’t do that, because I didn’t want to destroy his dream.

Rob him of his future. The future I believed he’d wanted until now.

He kisses me again, and I sigh into his kisses as they become stronger, deeper.

A different sort of future becoming clear.

I’m overcome with emotion, love, and longing.

“I love you, Dean,” I murmur between kisses.

“I love you, too.” He holds me closer. “So, so much.” He tugs my sweatshirt over my head and my bra straps slip on my shoulders. “Nice,” he growls softly. “Sexy.” His finger trails down my cleavage and the bra’s fabric dips.

“Just wait till you see the thong.”

His laugh is gravelly, low. “Can’t wait.” I lean back on the sofa, and he helps tug off my sweatpants. Flames leap through me like brittle twigs catching fire, spreading heat across my breasts and down my torso and thighs.

In an instant he’s out of his T-shirt and sweatpants too and wearing only his briefs. I cast a glance at the hall. “Should we go back to the—”