I’d wanted to, I couldn’t push them away—it felt like they were the only things holding me up.
“I pulled up to the address he’d once had me send a package to; he’d forgotten his laptop charger in D.C. and didn’t want to buy another. But, I was surprised to see a tree already lit in the window. I remember thinking maybe I had the wrong address, but I didn’t want to call him and ruin the surprise, so I figured I’d just knock.” I couldn’t swallow anymore, my throat only wide enough to let the last bitter words out. “A woman opened the door and, at first, my stomach twisted. But then two kids ran behind her through the hall, and I remember feeling relief.”
His thumbs brushed over my cheeks so I knew tears were falling.
“Relief. Can you imagine?” My eyes shut, leaking more tears, and I forced air into my vacant lungs in one long inhale. “I was about to tell her I was sorry and that I had the wrong address. I remember my mouth was already open to speak when Adam appeared next to her.” A bitter laugh ripped out. “At least he had the decency to look shocked. The decency for all the color to drain from his face when he saw me. But that was about all the decency he had.”
“God, Holly... what a fucking asshole.”
“He put a hand on her shoulder—the one that already had a wedding ring attached.” I shuddered. “I wanted to do a million things in that moment. Some violent. Some definitely illegal. But then their kids ran by again, and I...” I broke off, hating the small cry that escaped. “I couldn’t do it. The betrayal. The humiliation. It was nothing compared to the thought that confronting him would ruin their family on Christmas. I’d learned to live with a ruined holiday a long time ago,” I finished quietly. “I wouldn’t wish that on any child.”
Saint’s warm supports on my cheeks turned my head up when it wanted nothing more to fall in defeat. Even through the distortion of tears, Saint was still the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. “You’re incredible, Holly.”
“So, I apologized... to the man who’d been living two lives.” I laughed bitterly. “I said I had the wrong address and left. Left all the Christmas decorations I bought at the nearest children’s home and caught a red-eye back to DC.”
“What did he say?” Saint demanded. “That can’t be how it ended.”
“Apparently, I was the perfect candidate for mistress and a secret life because I’d grown up a Witness—because why would I be interested in spending holidays with him when I’d never celebrate any holiday?” My whole body felt weak.
“Jesus fucking Christ—” Saint broke off, and though it had only been a joke until now, the anger on his face made him look like a vengeful pirate—a man who’d do anything to get retribution from those who’d hurt me.
“Every time I get close to this holiday, Saint, I get burned,” I told him, hating how pathetic it sounded.
The hurt. The heartbreak. This holiday both tempted and haunted me with equal measure. And I felt like one of those characters in a horror movie—the one who you know for certain is going to die because they willingly go into a locked house or darkened room when it’s beyond obvious the bad guy is waiting. I was horror movie foolish.
I shivered as his thumb ran over my lower lip, the touch like kindling to a fire. But try as I might, I couldn’t tear myself away from his gaze, knowing whatever he was going to say would make my heart ache to believe otherwise.
“I’m sorry that all the people who should’ve loved you and celebrated you for who you are failed so goddamn miserably.”
I wasn’t going to accept his apology because it wasn’t his fault. But I did believe him. How could I not when he spoke with such sincerity? When he looked as though it wasn’t only his job to be responsible for their mistakes, but that he was going to do everything to make up for them?
I forced myself to swallow through the tightness eating away at my throat. ”So, does that mean you’re going to let me continue to avoid you now?” I half-pleaded.
Then they could create a new Christmas carol—a mix of Run, Run Rudolph and Have A Holly Jolly Christmas.
Run, run Holly. Saint ain’t messing around.
Run, run, Holly. Saint’s going to tear your walls