TYLER

I’m not sure exactly what I’d expected, showing up like this—on a holiday no less—while Maggie is surrounded by her team of moral support, but I know what I’d hoped. I’d hoped she’d throw her arms around me, pepper my face with kisses, and draw me into the bedroom while confessing her love for me.

That’s what I’d dreamed of happening.

Not what I expected. I halfway expected Maggie would send Emily outside to greet me, then kick my ass to the curb. I’d probably known Margaret wouldn’t do that—if not for my sake, then for Jess’s. I’d thought Maggie might feign politeness for the crowd, and then dismiss me with the cold shoulder as darkness fell on the inn.

I hadn’t let myself wish—truly wish—for this. The soft little touches, the hand-holding. The shared hot chocolate by the fire as Margaret kicks her legs into my lap and my fingers run along her calves, gently massaging, just like we’d done before our unfortunate break.

Margaret is a woman of her word. When she promised me outside, under the first snowfall of the year, that she’d try—she meant it. I can see that with every one of the warm looks she sends my way, and the way her hand brushes against mine as we ease decorations onto the Christmas tree.

“I can’t believe you still have that one,” I say, when the night is sleepily drawing to a close. I point to the hot dog.

“The first one I ever owned,” she admits. “I have a fondness for that little weiner.”

We laugh, curling into one another and stealing a last kiss before the lights of the Christmas tree. Mila and Jess are off brushing the sugar cookies they’ve been inhaling from their teeth in preparation for bedtime.

I hold out a hand to Margaret. “I hate to break the moment, but there are going to be some annoyed little girls if we don’t get reading to them.”

“I promised them a movie,” she says, wincing. “Sorry. That was before...er, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

I pull her close, brush a kiss to her forehead. “Tell me you’ll share a blanket with me, and I won’t mind in the slightest.”

She crooks an eyebrow up. “You planning to finish that foot rub? If so, I think we can reach a deal, Mr. Daniels.”

“At your service,” I tell her, swooping her cheesily off her feet. “Let’s get moving.”

The girls decide on The Grinch, and before I know it, we’re halfway through the film and three girls’ heads are bobbing with dreams of sugar plum fairies and snores that have no business coming from such little bodies. Mila snores like a bear, and Jess has fallen asleep on her arm, somehow drowning out the racket with her own sleep talking.

Only Margaret sleeps quietly, her face a smooth, stunning picture of raw beauty. She showered before the movie, and her face is makeup-less and natural—my favorite. I’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes before finally realizing I should start moving some bodies to bed.

I begin with Jess, and then Mila, moving them to their pre-prepared sleeping quarters in Mila’s room. They’d opted to set up a tent on the floor tonight, and it’s a bitch trying to wiggle them in there, but eventually I succeed with only a few fluttering eyelashes in the process.

Next, I look to Margaret and try to decide what my next course of action should be. We’re in her apartment, so I don’t feel right taking the bed while she takes the couch. But there’s definitely no room on the other couch for me to curl up and rest—I’m a tall man, and that thing is a love seat.

I’m absolutely not leaving, not unless Margaret expressly asks me to go, so I opt for the same option as I had with the girls—bringing her to bed. She’s lighter than I remember, smaller, and I feel a hit of guilt as I realize all I’ve been putting her through these last few weeks. The stress—wondering what’ll happen to her job, her life, her family.

I shudder, resolving to never put her through anything like that again. Next time, from here on out—forever—I’ll be by her side. I’ll diffuse the obstacles where I can, steal the stress for myself, hold her close when there’s nothing I can do and the world throws us a curveball.

At least we’ll be together.

I get Margaret to the bed and cover her with the sheet, brushing some stray hairs away from her face. Outside the window, snow continues to fall and the branches of trees have begun to bend underneath the weight of it. I’ve never seen anything like it—the first snow, on Thanksgiving, brightening the world with an ethereal glow.

But today of all days, I’m convinced miracles exist.

Especially when Margaret’s voice calls to me. “Stay.”

I’m halfway out the door, my hand resting on the knob as I prepare to shut it. “Margaret? Are you awake?”

She rolls over, her eyes unmistakably glistening, reflecting the moonlight back at me. “Please, stay.”

I close and lock the door behind me, sliding out of my sweater and jeans as I climb into bed next to her. I freeze halfway under the covers. “I didn’t mean to get undressed, I just—”

“Tyler.” Her hand reaches for me, lands on my bare stomach, and her skin burns against mine. “I meant it. I want to try. I want to go all in this time.”

She’s the oxygen that fuels my fire, and this is the spark that sets me off. “I want you more than anything, Margaret. But if you’re not ready—”

She leans up on her elbow and plants a hot, hard kiss on my mouth that draws my primal nature forward. My hand reaches for her face, pulling her to me, savoring the taste of her.

“I’ve missed you,” I murmur against her. “God, I’ve missed you, Margaret.”

“Me too,” she says. “Don’t you ever leave me again, Tyler Daniels, do you understand me?”

I roll on top, cradling her beneath me. “I swear on my life, Margaret. I’m here to stay.”

“Make love to me, Tyler,” she whispers, her eyes blinking closed as her hands reach for me. “Please.”

I’m wild with need for her, and it’s everything I can do to undress her slowly, with painstaking caution, kissing every inch of her body en route. I taste the softness of her stomach, the curves of her hips. My tongue runs up her inner thigh, finally landing on her core. I bask in pleasure as her breath comes in gasps while I lick and tease, driving her toward a climax that she needs.

“Tyler,” she gasps. “I’m close, please, I need you—”

“You’ll have me,” I growl, locking my fingers through hers. “Patience, sweetheart.”

“Tyler!” She burns through her climax, the orgasm rocking her body with shudders. Her breath comes in gulps and her legs tremble.

I hold her through it all, savoring the sweet smile on her face as her eyes close and her trembles quiet to stillness.

“That’s just the beginning, honey,” I tell her. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“You don’t have to make up for anything.” Her hands reach for my boxers and pull me closer. “I just want you.”

I shed my boxers and, out of habit, pick up my jeans for my wallet. At the last second, I drop them to the floor.

“What are you doing?” she asks, then understanding dawns on her eyes. “Oh, right—condom. Go ahead.”

“No.” I return to her, holding over her, my arousal nudging against her entrance. “I am not going anywhere, Margaret. I’m here for good.”

“I thought you were worried—”

“The only thing I’m worried about is you not trusting me,” I tell her, grinning as her mouth parts in desire as I press into her, ever so slightly. “I’m not opposed to more kids. Say the word—I’ll put a ring on your finger, and we can get down to business.”

“Damn it, Tyler.” Maggie’s hips pulse upward, her back arching as her fingernails dig into the sheets. “Stop procrastinating!”

With a devilish grin, I ease inside slowly, fighting back Maggie’s breathless pants. My fingers dig into her hips, holding her back, forcing her to feel every slow and tender movement. Every moment, every second.

And then, once I’m inside of her, my own breath crushes out in a gasp, and I can’t handle the anticipation anymore. I thrust faster, matching Maggie’s beats with my own, driving the pair of us upward, wild—the snowstorm outside gaining fury as the heat inside burns bright, brighter still.

The frenzy builds until Maggie’s eyes grow wide and her nails scratch across my back. Her fingers dig into my back as she pulls me close, and as I empty into her, she cries my name against my shoulder.

I hold her to me as she lets out a short breath, halfway between a sob and a laugh.

“I didn’t expect that sort of reunion,” I say, holding her to my chest. “But damn am I glad to be home.”

“Me too,” she says. “I guess I really missed you.”

“I love you, Margaret,” I whisper against her ear. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Tyler. I love you.”

I press a kiss to her temple, thinking I hadn’t understood the meaning of grateful until I’d unwittingly stumbled back into Margaret Marshall’s life.

“It’s the weiner, isn’t it?” I whisper against her ear.

“What?”

“The hot dog ornament,” I say. “That’s what won you over, back in the day. That’s what started this whole thing off.”

She barks a laugh, then covers her mouth with her hand. “Yes, Tyler. It was the weiner that did the trick.”

“Good,” I tell her, curling close against her. “There’s more where that came from.”

“Are we talking about ornaments?”

“Goodnight, Margaret.”

She laughs softly. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

Outside the snowstorm continues through the night, sending white flakes spiraling against the window. The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the bed, and finally, finally, I know where I belong.

“Tyler,” Margaret murmurs, sometime later, her voice sleepy.

“Mmm?”

“Before, I told you Mila and I didn’t need anything more,” she says, her voice hesitant. “And I suppose that’s true; but, I want more. So badly.”

The pain in my heart eases, ever so slightly. “Me too, Margaret,” I promise her. “Me, too.”