#FishAndChips

Spence tried to bury himself in work but there was a heaviness to his daily grind that he knew from experience was grief.

Only on a whole new level.

He’d finally learned how to balance his life and then half of that life had walked away, leaving him out of whack all over again.

The gang tried to cheer him up, inviting him places, bringing him his favorite junk food . . . The guys even took him fishing, and though it’d been fucking freezing and Joe had gone accidentally swimming and nearly lost his nuts, it hadn’t distracted Spence.

When they got back, Spence holed up and gave work what he could, and a few days later, he texted Caleb:

An hour later, Spence stood at the top of Marin Headlands, Caleb a few feet away, the two of them braced against the heavy gusts as they watched the drone fight its way through the wind like it wasn’t even there.

Another heavy gust sent them both back a step and Caleb’s baseball cap off toward Kansas as he looked down at his phone. “That one was seventy-five miles per hour.”

They both went back to concentrating on the drone until it was out of sight over the water. They switched their gazes to the tablet on the controls, watching as the drone, several miles out now, kept going without draining the battery. Twenty miles out and it still sent back both clear visuals and clear sound as it executed a hold-your-breath maneuver beneath the bridge, landing on a buoy being battered from all sides by the white-capped, frothy, unforgiving bay.

“Go farther,” Caleb said.

Spence did.

“Forty miles,” Caleb said some time later. “Battery?” The drone, still relaying back a picture-perfect visual and sound, came to the bridge again, hovered, dropped down onto a buoy, and . . . stayed there, perfectly balanced.

“Hold it there,” Caleb said, the two of them glued to the screen. “Wait for that incoming surge of waves—do you see them?”

Yeah. Spence saw them. They waited. Watched while the buoy was hit by wave after wave. Twice the drone did as it’d been programmed to do when things got too rough. It ascended, hovered in place, and then lowered back down, once again maintaining its position.

“Not even a wobble,” Spence said in marvel. They both looked at the tablet. “And the satellite reception held through the wind and water interference.”

Meaning if there’d been a doctor on this end trying to see and speak to a patient on the other end, they would’ve been able to maintain their connection.

“Make the drop,” Caleb said.

Spence executed the command and the drone rolled out a weatherproof, impact-protected box that was perfectly set on the tip of the buoy. The landing zone that was maybe six inches by six inches.

And the box landed right in the center, precisely weighted so that even with the swells hitting the buoy, making it rise and fall, the box didn’t shift.

Spence worked the controls and had the drone reverse the process, setting down and scooping the box back up.

“Still won’t stop someone from stealing the meds,” Caleb said. “Or snatching the drone.”

“We only make the drop after confirming by satellite that there’s an authorized receiver on site.” Spence shook his head. “That’s the best we’ve got. Patented long-use battery and unfailing connection through our app.”

Caleb nodded and turned to Spence, triumph gleaming through his smile. “You did it, man. Amazing.”

Yeah, and satisfaction burned through him at the triumph. Satisfaction, but not elation.

The last time he’d felt a surge of a positive emotion had been when he’d been buried deep inside Colbie, feeling like he’d found himself in her fathomless gaze, in her warm arms, buried in her body.

“Storm moving in,” Caleb said, tilting his face to the sky. “It’s a good night to cozy up to a woman with some good brandy and catch a sappy movie on TV.”

Spence arched a brow.

“Hey, women like sappy,” Caleb said.

Colbie liked sappy. The thought of cozying up to her in front of a blazing fire, wrapping her up close as a movie made her tear up, comforting her, making those tears vanish . . . “You ever been dumped?” he asked.

Caleb laughed ruefully. “Oh yeah.”

“Did you chase after them?”

“The hot ones,” Caleb said.

Spence sighed.

“Listen,” Caleb said on a laugh. “Honestly? I can make a woman happy. Keeping her that way is another thing entirely and definitely not one of my superpowers. So I’m the wrong one to give advice.”

Spence got that. He knew he’d made Colbie happy. Hanging out with her had been effortless. So was making her laugh. And when he got her in bed, she’d absolutely communicated how he’d made her feel there . . . In fact, he could still feel the indentions of her nails in his ass.

“You could talk to Archer,” Caleb suggested. “He’s managed to snag the most difficult woman who ever walked this earth. I mean, Elle actually smiles now. Get him to tell you the secret to that and bottle it.”

Spence wasn’t any good at asking for help but when they got back to his building, he found himself at Archer’s office.

Molly, Archer’s receptionist, shook her head. “He’s in, but he’s . . . busy.”

“Client meeting?”

“An Elle ‘meeting.’ ” She put meeting in air quotes.

“She went in there half an hour ago and no one’s seen hide nor hair of them since.”

There was a muted sound, a sort of thunk, like something—or a bunch of somethings—falling off a desk.

Joe stuck his head out his office door and glared at his younger sister Molly. “I thought he ordered corkboard for the walls to add insulation so I don’t have to hear what’s going on in there.”

Molly, who could hold her own with the kind of guys she worked for—which was to say completely badass—narrowed her eyes at his tone. “Hasn’t come in yet,” she said, her own tone cool, with an added watch it implied.

“Shit.” Joe vanished back into his office and then they heard him crank up some music to window-rattling levels.

Spence left and hit the elevator. When the doors opened to Willa and Keane locked in an embrace, apparently checking each other’s tonsils, he pivoted on a heel and took the stairs.

This sucked. He’d just made an incredible work breakthrough and he had no one to share it with. It felt . . . empty. He’d been alone before, plenty of times. In fact, he’d been alone for most of his life, but he’d never felt this hollow.

He strode through the courtyard, hell-bent on key lime pie, which surely would ease the gnawing pain in his gut.

Except it wasn’t hunger and he knew it—it was something he hadn’t seen coming. Heartache.

Halfway to the coffee shop he caught sight of his grandpa sitting on a bench staring into the fountain like it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

Spence had a short argument with himself, which he lost. Changing directions, he headed to the old man’s side.

Eddie didn’t look over at him, just kept staring into the water. “Hear you screwed things up pretty good, boy genius.”

“Who told you that?”

“I hear all. I know all,” Eddie said sagely. The guy’s white hair was standing straight up in his best Christopher Lloyd imitation and in spite of the cold, he wore only a Deadhead T-shirt and tie-dyed Bermuda shorts.

Spence shook his head and shrugged out of his jacket, handing it over.

His grandpa pulled it on and smiled. “Warm.”

“I’ve given you a bunch of jackets and other warmer weather gear. Why aren’t you wearing any of it?”

His grandpa shrugged, pulling the hood over his wild hair. “Some of my friends don’t have a you.”

Spence read between the lines on that one. “So you gave it all away to keep them warm.”

Eddie didn’t answer. Instead he worked his way through the pockets of the jacket, locating a candy bar and grinning with happiness over the find.

Spence gave up with the life lectures and stared at the fountain as his grandpa had been doing. He was exhausted. And . . . dammit. Sad.

“You could try to fix it with her, you know.”

Spence let out a low, mirthless laugh. “You’ve got a helluva lot of nerve lecturing me on my life. Look at yours.”

“Exactly,” Eddie said, for once his smile and good nature gone. “You’re just like I was. My mind was always working ten steps ahead of everyone else. I shut everything and everyone out.”

Spence had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the rest of this conversation. “I already know this. Dad and Grandma told me a long time ago.”

“Told you what?”

“That you chose work over family. How after a bunch of grief from both places, you eventually decided you didn’t need either one and just up and left one day.”

His grandpa huffed. “There’s two sides to every story, you know.”

“You have something to say, say it.”

Eddie nodded to the bench next to him for Spence to sit. So Spence sat. For a few minutes they were silent.

“You know I was an inventor like you,” Eddie finally said. “I had the brains for it. But not for the business side of things. I had a partner. Not as good a man as Caleb, I might add. He stole ten patents out from right under my nose and I didn’t even notice. My ability to focus on the work came with thick blinders and everything else fell by the wayside.”

Spence stared at him. “So you just left? Your life wasn’t all about business. You walked away from your family too.”

“I was broke. Broke and humiliated, and had nothing left to offer. I’d lost everything.”

“Your family didn’t care,” Spence said. “All Grandma wanted was you, and she’d have taken whatever part of you she could get. She would’ve been willing to share you with work. Dad too.”

Eddie held his gaze and slowly nodded. “I know that now. Because hindsight is twenty-twenty. What I don’t know is how you’re sitting there judging me but you’re not believing it yourself. Because if you were believing it, you’d be in New York, chasing down the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“You can’t chase love.”

“Wrong,” Eddie said. “You can do whatever you want. Life is short, Spence. Don’t waste it on stuff that doesn’t matter.”

“Are you saying family doesn’t matter?”

“I’m saying that people make mistakes. So forgive. Love. Laugh.”

“Now you sound like a slogan for the Hallmark Channel.”

“Hey,” Eddie said. “I like the Hallmark Channel. It makes me smile, and you know what? You could use a little bit more of that.”

Elle came through the courtyard, holding a box. She looked perfectly put together, the only thing giving away her earlier “meeting” in Archer’s office being her overly flushed cheeks. She stopped in front of Spence.

“No,” he said.

“I didn’t say anything yet,” she said.

“You’re going to tell me another woman sent me yet another present.”

She dropped the box in his lap. “Another woman sent you yet another present.”

“Dammit, Elle.”

“Open it.”

He met her gaze and saw something there that had him sighing and taking the box. In it was a duffle bag much like his old one but not battered and abused—filled with all his favorite candy bars. The jumbo sizes.

His throat tightened but it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest.

“Wow,” Elle said. “The perfect gift for you. I’ve been trying to get you to replace your piece-of-shit duffle bag for a year.”

Eddie reached into the box and took a candy bar in each hand. “You’re not nearly as smart as you pretend to be if you don’t go after that girl.”

“That might just be the first thing you and I agree on,” Elle told Eddie.

He beamed at her. “See, I’ve finally worn you down with my charm.” He clapped a hand on Spence’s shoulder. “Time to use yours, boy, and go get our girl.”

Spence rose to his feet. “I need some air.”

“We’re already outside,” Eddie said, but Spence kept walking, heading toward the street and his truck. He pulled out his phone and called Colbie. He missed her. He loved her. And dammit, he wasn’t just going to let her go. At least not until he told her.

She didn’t answer.

He was still holding his phone when it vibrated with an incoming call. His heart leapt but it was just Finn.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” his friend opened with.

“Yeah?” Spence said, not feeling the spirit in the least. “So?”

“So . . . you’re supposed to be at the pub.”

“Why?” Spence asked.

“Because that’s what we do on Christmas Eve. We all hang out together. Hurry. I need you for something first.”

“What?”

Finn sighed. “Just get your ass over here.”

Spence blew out a breath. “Fine.”

“Now, right?”

“Jesus, you’re out of control, but yeah, whatever.”

He was nearly to the pub when his phone rang again and he answered without looking at the screen. “I said I’m coming, I’m fucking coming.”

“Spence.”

He nearly tripped over his own feet at the sound of Colbie’s voice in his ear. Which reminded him that he was a complete dumbass who wasn’t supposed to answer his phone without looking at the screen first.

But in this case, he was glad, so very glad he had. Just the sound of her had him in knots, in the very best of ways. “Hey,” he said, softening his voice. “Sorry, I thought it was Finn.”

“And I’m sorry I missed your call.” She paused. “It’s good to hear you, Spence.”

He stopped at the door of the pub, stilled by a rush of love and heat and hunger. He closed his eyes. “Same.”

“Where are you?”

He walked into the pub, his phone still up to his ear as he took in the room.

The place was lit up for the holiday, with soft white twinkling lights strung from the rafters and in and around the hanging lanterns, giving off a warm holiday glow that might have reached Spence if his heart wasn’t shrunk to the size of the Grinch’s.

Finn and Sean always closed on Christmas Eve. It was their gang only. They always had dinner and drinks together and toasted the holiday in their own way. Usually with a vicious, high-stakes dart tournament and then a round of pool.

“I’m in the pub,” he said to Colbie. And I wish you were here . . . And it was like the wanting conjured her up. He could feel her.

“Me too,” she said in surround sound, both in his ear and from behind him.

He whipped around and, phone still at his ear, saw her about twenty steps away, at the bar. Their eyes locked and it was all he could do to breathe. She started toward him and he could feel his entire face lighting up. She was in a little black dress and some serious black boots and his heart wasn’t the only thing that took notice.

A warm smile curved her lips as her green gaze ate him up much the same way his was doing to her. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present in person.”

“You already sent me one,” he said inanely, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

“That one was a decoy. This one’s bigger.” She grinned. “And hopefully better.”

“What is it?” he asked.

She pulled her phone from her ear, tossed it to the bar, and pointed to herself.