Just One Kiss - J. Saman Page 0,52
myself last night that regardless of what Miles does, I wasn’t going to let my hurt and nerves over a guy ruin my Christmas with my family. I’ll drive down later today. He said he has no plans for Christmas and while part of me is beyond excited and exhilarated over the idea of what I plan to do, the other part of me is scared out of my mind.
His incredible picture is still sitting on the bed, re-rolled into the packaging it came in. The stunning ornament too because I didn’t have it in me to look at them anymore. I have no idea what to do with them now.
Do I want that ornament on our family tree?
Um. Kinda yes, because it’s too pretty and special to be left out, but also no because every time I look at it, it’ll just be a reminder of the man I’m trying really hard not to think about until later.
Dragging my ass out of bed, I head into my bathroom, running a washcloth under cold water and pressing it to my face until some of the redness and puffiness dissipates. I rub in some face cream so at least I have a bit of healthy-looking glow, brush out the tangles from my hair, brush my teeth and then get into my Christmas pajamas because it’s fucking Christmas and I’m going to celebrate that.
But I also re-pack my bags.
I stuff everything inside, including his presents to me. I lay out an outfit I want to wear when I go to him and that makes me smile and squeal just a little because I happen to know for a fact, I look sensational in this sweater that has pretty sparkly beads on it in green, red, and white against the thin black cashmere.
Miles will drool over it.
Because Miles wants me. He’s just too afraid to take the step.
The house is still quiet as I walk through the dining room and the great room. Sounds in the kitchen draw my attention as does the smell of baking muffins. The moment I step into the kitchen, I find my father sitting at the counter, hovering over his cup of barely steaming coffee, his eyes dark and tired.
“Daddy?”
He raises his head, and I catch the glimmer lurking beneath the fatigue.
“Come and sit down, London. Tell me all about this Miles guy.”
I blow out a breath, followed by a roll of my eyes. “Merry Christmas to you too. What do you need to know about Miles?”
“If he’s a good man or not. If he’s worthy of my little girl. He rescued my daughter from a blizzard and brought her into his home. You went to high school with him, but I have no recollection of him, and I thought I knew all your friends. But most of all, you showed up last night and it looked like someone had stolen all the light from your eyes, but this morning it seems to be back despite the nice cut you have on your forehead.”
I bluster out a sigh, sinking down against the large island counter. I can smell the muffins and before Greta, our chef, has a heart attack, I go over to the oven, slip on her mitts and remove the muffins, setting them on the cooling rack.
“She’s going to cut you in your sleep. Christmas be damned.”
My father looks unconcerned. “I never liked blueberry.”
I shake my head. “Daddy!”
“Talking to my daughter one on one is worth burned muffins.”
“You say that until your pregnant daughter comes down.”
My father blanches and then meets my eyes with an indifferent shrug. “I’ve got at least twenty minutes before that happens. Talk to me, London. Tell me about this man.”
“Daddy…” I sag onto a stool, ripping off the oven mittens and throwing them onto the counter one at a time. “He found me. I told you all this already. I passed out and he brought me back to his house.”
“And…” He trails off with the cock of an eyebrow that says he knows I’m withholding.
“And he’s amazing. Kind and sweet and considerate. He’s an artist. Makes beautiful pieces out of glass. I knew him back in high school and I just… Daddy, after Christmas breakfast and we open all our presents, I’m going to borrow a car and drive back down to him.”
My father takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes on mine. “Because you want to be with him?”
I nod. I smile with teeth and everything.
“He was good to