Page 90 of The Christmas Trap

He chuckles. "Ah, youth and thinking you have time for everything. You need to seize each moment, make the most of it. Make the most of this opportunity you’ve been given."

"You’re talking about my marriage?" I place the tips of my fingers together.

"I understand, it must seem like a big step forward. A leap into the unknown."

"You think?" I scoff.

"It’s life changing. And it can be daunting. I remember when I got married. Your grandmother was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I pursued her. I beat off my competitors and married her. I couldn’t wait for her to be my wife. All through the ceremony, all I could see was her. We were blissfully happy."

He looks into the distance.

"And then, I threw myself into building an empire so I could keep her in style. Only, that took me further away from her and our children. I realized what was happening but felt powerless to stop it. At some point it became not about the money but the thrill of playing out business gambles and winning." He swallows. "By the time I realized the fallacy of my actions, it was too late. She was gone. So was your father. And I was estranged from my other two sons. You and your brothers were coming into adulthood. That’s when I seized my chance. I wanted to make sure the lot of you were settled in life. It would have made her happy. I went at it the wrong way, though."

I’ve never heard him sound this sincere. That he’s owning up to his mistakes is unexpected. Besides, he’s right. But given his tortured features, I don’t have the heart to tell him so.

Instead, I watch the snowflakes begin to drift down.

We’re sheltered, and the heaters on either side of us provide warmth, but the temperature has dropped considerably.

I hunch into my jacket. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to think about what you’re going to do next."

I slide my finger around the rim of my collar. I needed a little space from her; that’s why I ran.

Because I'm falling for her.It’s why I asked her to marry me. I’m terrified at how vulnerable that makes me feel. In fact, I can barely admit this to myself, let alone have the courage to share my feelings with her.

"It was tough losing first Dad, then Mom so soon afterward. And you’re right, I was too young to process it in a healthy way. Thankfully, I had my brothers. Uncle Quentin, too, filled in as a male role model."

He pales further, then seems to get a hold of himself. "You’re right. I wasn’t there for you boys the way I should have been. I’m asking you not to punish yourself for my faults."

I shoot him a curious glance. "What do you mean?"

"I’m afraid the lack of love and security in your childhood means that you and your brothers have a hard time accepting it in your life. My insisting that the lot of you serve in the military…" He lowers his chin. "What I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t run from your feelings."

I struggle to hide my surprise and fail. This is Arthur. The cantankerous head of the Davenport family who’s spent his life getting all up into the lives of his family. The man who treated his family with the same cutthroat machinations as his group of companies. You could be forgiven for thinking that the man was an automaton. Yet here he is, confessing first, to having been in love with my grandmother, and then, talking to me about feelings, in the breath of a few seconds.

"I see you’re taken aback." He arches an eyebrow.

"Can you blame me? You don’t exactly fit the image of a cuddly ol’ grandpa."

"God forbid," he huffs. "And no, I’m not the kind to talk about my feelings, but then…Imelda happened."

"Oh?" I ask, curious.

"I loved your grandmother. But I was a different person then. I was so lost in power plays and growing the business, I couldn’t find the time to tell her enough that she meant the world to me. Her death broke me. It pushed me further into bitterness. But Imelda’s forthrightness was exactly what I needed to give me a rude wake-up call. She made me realize I couldn’t live the rest of my life hiding from the stuff that really matters."

"Which is?"

"Which is telling you how I really feel. I love you, Brody. I loveallof you. And I want the best for you."

My heart squeezes in my chest. A strange tightness grips my rib cage. Damn, I do believe Gramps is sincere. And somehow hearing him confess his feelings seems to break a dam somewhere inside of me. "I love you, too, Grandad."

He blinks rapidly. Something suspiciously like tears shimmers in his eyes.

Then, he grins. "Good. Then you’ll do exactly as I tell you."

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