A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,73

still smiling as he walked around and helped her slide from the truck. “How about a nice bottle of wine, maybe a fire in the fireplace. And we’ll see where we end up later.”

“I think Goldilocks never had it so good.”

11

Holly leaned back against the couch from her spot on the living room floor and watched Sean add more logs to the fire. He’d done nice things with the old house. Gleaming hardwood floors, fresh paint on the walls in earthy tones, leather couch and big overstuffed chair, thick woven rugs everywhere…and lots of bookcases. It was warm, decidedly masculine, but cozy and inviting. Just like the owner.

“When do you have time to read?”

He poked at bit at the embers. “My hours are a little crazy and sometimes I don’t get home until the wee hours. Reading helps me switch gears from all the things I have to worry about with the restaurant.”

“I do the same thing, actually. There are these wonderful antiques and used bookstores in London. Picadilly, Notting Hill, Portobello Road. When I was particularly stressed out over a client or an account, I’d escape the office for an hour or so and head out to one or the other.”

Finished, with the flames popping again, Sean shifted back to sit next to Holly, stretching his arm out along the seat cushions behind her. “And painting?”

“You know, I didn’t do much of that in London itself. I saved that for my trips away. Not that there isn’t plenty of inspiration there, but—”

“You needed to escape completely, to really indulge yourself and revel in it.”

She looked at him, surprised. “Exactly. I always said I should start sketching, just give myself the pleasure, make room for it in my day-to-day life, but it wasn’t really the right fit there, the right balance, with the hours I work and the pressures. You’re right, I needed to block out time entirely to really enjoy it.”

He stroked the back of her neck, her shoulder, and she knew it wasn’t really the wine that was making her feel so warm and tended to.

“Do you miss it?” he asked. “I mean, the work, the city, browsing the shops, all of it?”

“Yes. It’s what I know; it’s my life. Has been for a long time now. I honestly didn’t think coming back here would have any influence on how I felt about it. It’s home to me now, that’s just how it is. And I’m okay with that. If anything, I thought coming back would strengthen that feeling.”

“Did it? You don’t miss living here? Not homesick?”

She looked at him. “It’s not home, really. Not anymore. My folks are gone; the house is no longer ours; the shop is dark; my life, my old life anyway, really doesn’t exist.”

“You want to go back to London, then?”

She held his gaze for a long time and was thankful that he said nothing else, didn’t try any further to influence her thoughts. She knew, could see, the trepidation in his eyes, his face. She knew what he wanted. He was asking her, very honestly, what it was that she wanted.

“A few days ago, I would have said yes. There really wouldn’t have been any other response to give. There is nothing for me here.” She covered his hand with her own. “Or there wasn’t anyway.”

He wove his fingers through hers, but let her find her words. But the hope was there again, the spark of it, and it was amazing what it did to her. Every single time.

“I came here wondering how I was going to handle what was my mother’s entire world in a way that would satisfy us both, and I honestly had no idea what that was going to be. But I can’t sit here and say that I’m dying with homesickness for London, or my job there…I do miss my friends. More important, I think, is that I miss the comfort and security of knowing who I am there, what my purpose is. I don’t know who I am here anymore and I had major doubts on knowing how to handle the decisions I had to make here.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m more secure about that part. I know what I want to do with the store. I’m confident it’s the right thing. I just have to work through the steps of figuring out how to make it work the best way possible, that is the best for me.”

“And?”

She squeezed his hand. “And then there’s you. Complicating the hell