He stared at the fire for a full minute before his features settled. “What it came down to was she expected a different life as the wife of a football coach. I think, in her mind, she assumed it would be like being an NFL wife, with fame and traveling together.”
“Surely you talked about how different college football is?” I said without thinking.
“Yes, Becca. While Vivian was hard to please, I’m not innocent in this, either. Football is an obsession. Winning is the means to my livelihood, and I couldn’t provide the lifestyle she wanted or give her the attention she deserved. The fights started early on and got worse each season. We were married just under two years before she’d had enough and walked out. We had a big game the following week, so I didn’t stop her. Leaving me was intended to spark me to life. She wanted me to fight for our relationship, and I failed.” He blew out a long breath, deep frown lines covering his handsome face. “We divorced soon after that, and last I checked, she was engaged to some guy who plays for Chicago.”
It was a lot of information to take in, and I weighed my response carefully.
“I’m an asshole,” he continued. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but shit happens.” His shoulders slumped.
So much of what he’d shared bothered me, but I couldn’t describe why. Was it because I understood how he felt since none of my dates understood my passion for my job? Or was it because someone had hurt Harrison?
He looked at me, waiting for my response with a line between his eyebrows.
I set the decorations down and gave him my full attention. “I don’t think you’re an asshole. I’m no relationship expert—hell, I’m the complete opposite of one—but I think it’s safe to say it takes two people for a relationship to work. You each had different expectations and priorities, and they didn’t line up. Your drive for winning and coaching a good team isn’t worse or better than her desire for living the high life. But those individual goals probably should’ve been discussed before getting married. Just saying…”
“No shit.” He laughed.
We worked in silence for the next few minutes until Harrison let out a loud whoop. Holding up two different balls of yarn, he began hanging them over the Snoopy. “Look at me, Christmas-ing up the place.”
“Proud of you,” I said sarcastically, but he missed it.
Harrison’s grin grew the more he dangled the yarn around the living room in his own disorganized hot mess of a way. The green tangled with the red when he moved from the Snoopy to the bookshelf, but I didn’t say a word. This large man getting goofy over yarn, even though it was uneven and chaotic, was endearing and sexy as hell.
“I would hang it over the fireplace, but the last thing we need is to start a fire, huh?”
“Probably a good idea.” I found some tape and helped him secure the yarn in the farthest corner. “Where do you want to put up these measly stockings?”
“I know!” He took the plain red stockings and tucked a corner of each under a heavy book on his bookcase, hanging them at an angle. He puffed out his chest. “Father Christmas over here.”
I snorted. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Harrison.” I placed my hands on my hips and admired the living room and its weird combination of decorations. “Can’t say it doesn’t feel Christmas-y.”
“And wait.” He unzipped the duffel bag and placed the small gifts around our Snoopy. “Look at all the gifts for you. You can’t open them until tomorrow, though.”
He seemed so happy for me with his Cheshire cat–like grin plastered on his face. I’d brought him a secret gift, its contents remaining safely hidden in my bag. “Well, you can’t open your gift, either.”
“My gift?” His voice went up an octave. “I have a gift?”
“Yep.” I pulled the box from my bag. It was a half-assed wrapping job I’d done in a hurry, but it was worth it to see the surprise on his face. “Tomorrow morning you’ll see.”
His expression froze somewhere between bewilderment and fear, and my cheeks burned. Regret and embarrassment flooded my body.What was I thinking?
“It’s not a big deal. Really. I found this… thing. It’s not a big thing, but also not a little thing. It… it reminded me of you, and I thought, what the hell? It’s not even a real present. I mean… it’s like a knickknack, really. It’s stupid.”
I busied myself by picking up the little pieces of dust and debris that had escaped the storage box. Startling me, Harrison placed one large hand on my lower back, making my entire body taut.
“Becca,” he said, his voice low and sexy.
“Hmm?” I didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I focused on the lopsided Snoopy.
He moved his hand up my back, over my shoulder, and then under my chin to force me to face him. “You’re rambling. Why in the hell are you nervous?”
“Uh, because your face got all twisted, and I felt silly for getting you a gift.”
“I’ve woken up alone, without gifts, on Christmas morning for three years. Your thoughtfulness caught my grinch-ass off-guard.”
Lines appeared around his eyes as he offered me a real smile, and my embarrassment drifted away. He cupped my face, his fingers caressing the apples of my cheeks. “I’m stoked to wake up with you tomorrowandto have a gift.”
“It really is stupid,” I mumbled.
