Mistletoe in Paradise (Wildstone #5.5) - Jill Shalvis Page 0,29

person. And I know you’re not too stubborn for love because you’re a Webber.”

“Aw,” his mom murmured, “that’s so sweet.”

James stared at his dad.

His dad gave a half-smile. “I can’t actually tell if you’re stunned by my brilliance or your own stupidity.”

“I think it might be a little of both,” James admitted. “When did you get so wise?”

“It’s called old age, and don’t go there, it’s a trick. James, do you love her?”

That was easy. “Yes.”

“Then what are you doing sitting here? Go after her.”

“I’ve done that.”

“Yeah? How did it go?”

James opened his mouth, but then shut it again and sat back, realizing he’d never gone after Hannah. Not once. He’d always expected her to be there on his terms, never returning the favor. He’d expected her to give up everything and go away with him, then blamed her for their demise when she wouldn’t do it. That was on him, for not bringing her all the way in on why he needed to go, what he’d promised Jason. Instead, he’d assumed she’d follow him on blind faith, without understanding what it meant to him.

What a hypocritical dick.

But he was tired of running. Jason was gone and nobody could bring him back, so maybe it was time to actually live by the motto his brother had pushed. He needed to get his own happy—which happened to be one imperfectly perfect brunette with warm brown eyes and a sweet smile. He stood up and looked down at his parents.

His mom waved him off. “Don’t worry about us. I’m defrosting for the first time in a month. We’ll be fine.”

“Go,” his dad said.

So he went. He ran the length of the passerelle to the dock while pulling out his phone to get a ride to the airport, only to stop short ten feet from the ship because Hannah was running toward him, looking like she was both laughing and crying. He pulled her into him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes. No,” she corrected, shaking her head, gasping for air. “I need to hit the gym more.”

As stunned as he was, he couldn’t find the humor in that statement to save his life. “Hannah, what are you doing?”

“I was leaving, but I made the cab turn around,” she said. “I needed to see you.”

He shook his head, dizzy with relief to see her, but afraid to hope. “But the case—your dad told me about the affidavits you need—”

“I’ve developed working relationships with most of the medical staff at my hospital. I called the surgeon’s office and begged to talk to him. His office is doing the paperwork as I speak, and Cynthia will personally go get them. It should be okay.”

He was boggled. “Why aren’t you going?”

She took a deep breath. “Because I forgot to tell you something.”

Okay, this could be really bad or really good, and since luck hadn’t been on his side lately, he braced himself. “That’s funny,” he said as lightly as he could. “I need to tell you something, too.”

“Can I go first?” she asked very seriously. “Because I’m going to disintegrate into a million pieces unless I say this to you.” She let her purse and duffel hit the deck and cupped his face. “You’re more important to me than a job, and I’m sorry I didn’t show you that. I was . . .”—she shook her head—“scared. I’ve buried myself in work for so long . . . I’ve forgotten how to leave space for the people I care about.”

He opened his mouth, but she put a finger to his lips. “Because of that, I’ve never let a guy all the way in. I mean, how could I when it involved stuff like . . . being home for dinner and pretending not to care if the other person refuses to put the toilet seat down.” She swallowed. “And then there’s the biggest problem of all.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve used up every single inch of my closet. And all of the shelves in the whole apartment.”

The hope he’d been attempting to keep reined in broke free and a rough laugh escaped him. His knees nearly buckled in relief as he spoke around Hannah’s fingers still against his mouth. “Okay, but those aren’t actual problems. We will find time to have meals together, and I live out of a duffel bag for long stretches of time, so I’ll never care about closet space. Also, I can go either way on the toilet seat. What I can’t go either way on