She smiled at him shyly. “Me too.”
The moment stretched between them, sticky as caramel.
“You should call your aunt,” he said abruptly.
“I will. I want to. I just don’t know what to say.”
“Happy Christmas,” he suggested.
She laughed, a little ruefully. “That would be a start, at least. Will you see your family this Christmas?”
“Yes.” And half the neighborhood on Boxing Day. Including Laura.
She tilted her head. “And are you looking forward to it?”
“It will be nice to spend time with my grandfather.” A good nonanswer.
Her gaze rested on him, soft and warm and far too perceptive. “But...?”
Feelings churned inside him. This was what came of talking. The ice broke, and suddenly you were wading through a hot, messy, emotional slush. What should he say? What could he say?
All of it.
No.
“Holidays are meant to be endured, not enjoyed,” he said.
Mischief lit her smile. “That’s very Mr.Darcy of you.”
“Pardon?”
“Standing around brooding at a party,” she explained. “It’s so two centuries ago.”
“You clearly haven’t been to one of my parents’ parties.”
Dee laughed.
He grinned back, rewarded and relieved. “And you? Do you and your sister have plans for the holiday?”
“We’re going to Sam’s. Sam Clery?”
“Ah.”Sam. The long-haired Irishman with the lorry-sized chip on his shoulder. Tim took a step back, into the friend zone where she so clearly intended him to be. “Have fun.”
Sixteen
Dorothy? Is that you?” Em asked.
As if my name didn’t show on caller ID. And maybe it didn’t. I’d called the landline at the farmhouse, not the old Android phone that went with Uncle Henry into the fields.
“Hi, Aunt Em. Merry Christmas,” I said, following Tim’s script.
“It’s not Christmas yet,” Em said. “Have you heard from your sister?”
I took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “That’s why I’m calling. Toni—”
“Is she all right?”
Guilt jabbed me. “She’s fine. We’re both fine. She’s here.”
