Take Me Home for Christmas

Settling beneath the goose-down comforter on the bed, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She wished she could hide out here forever. But before she could drift off, she made herself get up. She couldn’t show her gratitude to Ted by falling asleep when she was supposed to be cleaning his house.

Dragging her tired body from the bed, she patted her cheeks to try to revive herself and hurried downstairs. She was going to like the cozy guesthouse. Sheltered from the road by Ted’s much larger house—not that many people came out this way—it was new and smelled of the pine planks that’d been used for the ceilings. And the scenery! On one side she had a magnificent view of the river, on the other a more than decent view of his yard, pool and Jacuzzi.

Sophia entered his house via a small walkway of stone steps. That wasn’t the main back door. The main back door led into the living room off an expansive deck one floor above. But this allowed her quick and easy access to the kitchen.

She could see that Ted had set his soup bowl in the sink, noticed he’d left out a bag of chips and felt her stomach growl. She needed to eat. She wasn’t getting enough nourishment these days.

She made herself a sandwich and sat down to flip through the cookbook she’d used before, hoping to find a good recipe for pasta. Ted had said he wanted that for dinner today. She’d made spaghetti and fettuccine for Skip many times, but she felt like a completely different person now than she had a month ago and didn’t want to return to the past, even to create a meal she was familiar with.

Noise in the hall caused her to glance up. Ted appeared, carrying his coffee cup. “I need another jolt of caffeine,” he explained.

She put her sandwich on her plate and got to her feet. “I’ll make it.”

He waved her aside. “Eat. That’s the first thing I’ve seen you put in your mouth since you started here. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“But I feel responsible for the fact that you’re so tired, and it makes me feel bad when you’ve been so...kind to me.”

He turned to look at her as if she’d surprised him somehow, and she wished she’d consulted a mirror before hurrying over to the main house. She’d seen the dark circles under her eyes this morning. Hopefully, they were less noticeable in this light.

“What?” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Nothing. It was my decision to stay last night. Don’t worry about it.”

“But you wouldn’t have done it if you’d thought you could leave.”

“I’ll survive.”

She went back to the table but was suddenly too nervous to eat her sandwich. She didn’t want to be a burden on him, didn’t want him to regret the kindness that had saddled him with an ex he’d rather not even see.

“How’s the book coming?”

“Not so good.”

He’d probably be getting more done if he didn’t have so many distractions—like taking in a woman and child who might’ve been homeless without him. “I’ll be careful not to interrupt you this afternoon.”

He didn’t say anything.

“While I have you here, what do you think of this for dinner?” She showed him a picture of bowtie pasta with prosciutto, onions and peas in a Parmesan cream sauce. “Does this look like an entree you might like?”

His eyebrows slid up. “Definitely.”

“I’ll make that tonight, then.”

Having started the coffeemaker, he turned around to face her. “I was going to talk to you about tonight.”

The gravity in his voice put her on high alert. “You’d rather have something else?”

“No, that’s fine. Could you make enough for Eve, too?”

She managed to maintain her smile. “Of course. Is this a—a date? Would you like me to do something special?”

“You don’t have to go to too much trouble. Just add a bottle of wine, a salad and maybe some dessert.”

She’d already been planning to serve a salad and bread with the main meal. “I can do that. I’ll set it up in the dining room.”

“That’d be great.”

She pointed to the coffeemaker. “You don’t have to wait. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s ready, if that’ll help.”

“I’d appreciate it.” He walked away but turned back at the last second. “Why’d you do it?” he asked. “Why’d you sleep with Skip?”

This was the first time he’d ever given her the opportunity to explain. But now that he had, she didn’t know where to begin. What did it matter, anyway? What could she hope to achieve? She could tell by his tone that, all these years later, he was still speaking out of condemnation and anger. And after the kindness Eve had shown her, Sophia wouldn’t interfere in their relationship even if she had the chance. “I made a mistake.”

“One you made worse by marrying him.”

It wasn’t easy to tolerate the accusation in his eyes, not without launching a few accusations of her own. She wasn’t the only one who’d been egocentric at that age. He’d been so preoccupied with all his projects and classes that he hadn’t paid much attention to what was happening—or not happening—in her world. He’d taken it for granted that when he finished setting the world on fire she’d be waiting for him in Whiskey Creek. “I was pregnant. I didn’t have any other choice.”

“Your parents would’ve helped you. They did everything for you.”

Not after he went to college. And especially not in that last year when he’d been so busy they’d barely talked. Once her mother could no longer hang on to reality, her father hadn’t been able to cope with the grief. He’d stepped down from his position as mayor and promptly fallen apart, and without any new money coming in, their savings had dwindled. They managed to get her mother into a facility where the state would pick up the bill, but almost as soon as they did that, her father received news of his own diagnosis. Although they’d been too proud to let anyone know the extent of their problems—it hurt to be humbled in one fell swoop—she couldn’t have afforded the chemo or anything else, not without Skip. “I panicked.”

“You mean Skip had the money you wanted.”

The money she’d desperately needed. There was a difference. And Skip was the father of her child. Was Ted saying he would’ve accepted Alexa? She couldn’t imagine that—couldn’t imagine him forgiving her for what she’d done. “If that’s how you want to look at it,” she said.

“There isn’t any other way,” he retorted.

* * *

When the doorbell sounded signifying Eve’s arrival, Ted wasn’t sure where Sophia was. She didn’t answer the door, so he assumed she’d left for the day. She was probably in the guesthouse, unpacking. The last time he’d seen her was when she’d slipped into his office, put a cup of coffee at his elbow, along with some sliced fruit, and slipped out.

It had been a quiet afternoon, which he’d needed to get some pages written. But as he passed the living room on his way to the door, he saw that she’d been busy. Every room in the house was immaculate. He could smell several delectable scents drifting from the kitchen, and she’d set a beautiful table. He paused when he saw it because he didn’t recognize the pretty crystal vase that served as a centerpiece or the fresh flowers inside it. Neither had he ever seen the matching candleholders. And he knew for a fact that he didn’t own those elegant dinner candles.

She’d gone to extra trouble to make this romantic—but he wasn’t sure that made him happy. He had such mixed reactions when it came to her.

The doorbell sounded again.

“Coming,” he called.

As soon as he opened the door, Eve gestured toward Sophia’s black Mercedes. “Looks like your houseguest will be spending her first night here.”

He wondered how things had gone for Alexa at school today. When Sophia picked her up, she must’ve had