Three more days. Three more days until the tree-lighting ceremony and then…And then what? This was where Bree always reached a dead end.
After their breakup talk in August—which was supposed to be a relationship conversation and ended up taking a disappointing turn—she’d only dared to think she and Simon might ever find a way back to each other. The flowers…a major error in judgment, and one she hoped would never be referenced again. But time. Yes, maybe time was what Simon had needed. She’d given him his space. She’d let him miss her. And now…now there were only three more days until the tree lighting.
She could always skip it. Let him have a taste of his own medicine. But that wasn’t her style—never had been. She would go, expecting nothing, wanting (hopefully) even less, and use this as an opportunity for some much-needed closure.
Either way, one thing was certain: She’d be looking her damn best. Let him see what he’d been missing.
She shivered as she walked down Harbor Street, her cousin Kate at her side. Caroline was manning the shop. The extra deliveries and holiday orders made it impossible to cover alone, but one of the true perks of seasonal help was that she could step out for a long lunch break without having to worry about the sign being turned. Today she was accompanying her cousin to the bridal salon to check out some of the final touches that had been made to Kate’s dress.
“Is Charlotte joining us today?” Bree asked.
Kate shook her head as she reached for the door handle of the shop. “She’s covering the office so I can be here at all. I need to bring her by, soon, though. We need to decide on Audrey’s flower girl dress. I thought she could come in on a wagon edged in greenery.” She cut her a sharp glance. “You can do that, right?”
Bree laughed. “Of course. And it’s a sweet idea. Any more thoughts on the bridesmaids?”
“Honestly, I’ve been so busy with work that I let that slide. Hopefully this weekend Alec and I can put together the wedding party list and let everyone know.” She grinned at Bree. “Of course you’re a bridesmaid. I assumed you knew that.”
“But of course! I am, after all, your only female cousin. And I look ravishing in tulle.”
“Oh, I’m not going for tulle,” Kate said to Bree’s extreme relief. She crossed the room and held up a stunning A-line strapless gown in a thick taffeta. “I had my eye on this. And luckily, it’s one of the ones they can get on short notice.” She clucked her tongue. “I don’t know how I let this go for so long.”
“I love it!” Bree exclaimed, gently touching the material. But as happy as she was not to be sporting some one-shoulder pouffy affair, another part of her couldn’t help thinking what a shame it would be that she would be without a date.
Unless…She knew she shouldn’t tempt fate, but the wedding wasn’t until after Christmas, and who knew, maybe she and Simon would get back together over the holidays.
Flick, flick. The poor rubber band was about to snap.
Kate started chatting with Sofia, the owner of the shop. It was the only bridal salon in town, and Bree knew that most brides came to Sofia for their dresses. She’d probably do the same someday.
My, wasn’t she feeling optimistic today! She walked to the rack where the veils were kept, all so frothy and delicate, like some sort of candy confection. Her fingers were just itching to take one from the hook, place it on her head, and imagine what it would be like…
She backed away from the rack carefully and took a seat in the center of the room on the tufted sofa she’d sat on last time she was here. And the time before, when Kate was planning her wedding to Jake. They never talked about it anymore, but Bree knew from firsthand experience how hard it could be to let go.
“You okay?” she asked Kate as Sofia slipped into the back room.
Kate nodded. “It used to be hard for me to come here with my brides, but now that I have Alec, it’s different. Everything happened for a reason. Besides, it’s Charlotte I’m worried about. Have you heard that Jake is getting married?”
This was news to Bree, and she wondered why Charlotte hadn’t mentioned it. “Is Charlotte upset?”
“I can’t be sure,” Kate said. “But unlike me, she can’t just move on. They have a child together.”
Bree had been wondering whether to broach the topic of her recent suspicions to Kate, and now she couldn’t resist. She shifted on the sofa, until she was looking right at her cousin. “I wouldn’t be so concerned about her moving on. I have a feeling she’s met someone.”
Kate’s eyes were round. “Really? But…she never said anything.” She looked a little wounded.
“She never told me, either,” Bree said quickly. “But I saw her with a very handsome man the other night, and something tells me they were more than just friends.” Or clients, as Charlotte would wish her to believe.
Kate gave a little smile. “I wonder who the mystery man is.”
* * *
Greg poured himself a whiskey from the decanter that Marlene had kept refreshed on the bar cart since back when his grandfather was still alive and sank onto the couch. The Christmas tree blazed before him. Charlotte must have put up the lights today, he realized. No doubt his mother’s observations on its lack of decorations had prompted some action.
He sat forward, noticing another addition to the room. The leather-bound photo albums he’d given to Charlotte her first day here were stacked on the center. He reached forward, turning the cover on one, feeling all at once sad and happy at the image staring back. It was taken on his grandfather’s boat, when he was only four or five. He was holding a fishing pole, smiling proudly at the camera. His grandfather had one hand shielding his eyes from the sun, the other draped over Greg’s shoulder. It was one of their favorite pastimes. The two of them, on the water, or just tinkering down at the dock. There would be fresh lemonade when he came back to the house. He could picture his mother sitting on the back veranda with his grandmother, smiling.
Smiling. He frowned, wondering if time had distorted his memory. But, no, he was certain of it. Those were happy times. The happiest ever, perhaps.
“Mind if I come in?” a soft voice behind him asked. Charlotte stood in the doorway holding a small speaker in her hand. “Baby monitor,” she explained, setting it on the coffee table as she sat down at the opposite end of the couch.
“I owe you an apology for last night,” Greg said, closing the photo album.
Her grin was rueful. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to blow our cover.”
Greg settled his head back against a cushion and looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe I should have,” he said.
“Don’t say that!” Charlotte snapped, jarring his attention.
He turned to her. “You really want to pull this off, don’t you?” When she didn’t reply, he pressed, “Why?”
Charlotte stared at the tree. “I told you,” she said. “When I set my mind to something, I don’t back down.”
“Ever?”
She slanted him a look. “Not easily.”
“I like that quality in a woman,” he said, and then sat upright, quickly draining the rest of his whiskey. He’d overstepped with that comment. Even if he meant it. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why did you even agree to this?” He’d seen the way she’d wavered that first day in his office, the way she’d hesitated when he’d called her bluff. “Is it because of the party? Does your company really need the business that badly?”
“No!” Charlotte insisted hotly. She settled back against a throw pillow. “My sister owns the company, and she does quite well. If you must know, this is the first account she’s let me handle on my own. I didn’t want to let her down.”
Her first account. Greg inwardly groaned, hoping his expression didn’t betray his true feelings. “So you’d rather go along with pretending to be my fiancée than lose out on the opportunity to plan my party,” he summarized.
Charlotte hesitated. “More or less.” She tucked her feet under her and adjusted a pile of pillows behind her back. “My sister and I aren’t on the best of terms. We’ve…been through some things. Personally, not professionally. I…I just don’t want to let her down again.”
“Again?”
“It’s complicated,” Charlotte said.
Greg stood and crossed to the bar cart, allowing himself a refill. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, but Charlotte shook her head.
“Audrey will probably wake up in a few hours.”
Of course. Greg measured himself a generous pour and placed the cap back on the etched glass decanter. “So you really don’t mind doing this on your own, then? Raising Audrey, I mean.”
He walked slowly back to the couch and resumed his seat, perhaps an inch or two closer to her than he had been. If she cared, she didn’t show it either way. He swallowed back his disappointment and then quickly snuffed it out completely when he realized what it was. She was a pretty woman sitting on his couch in a tight blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants. And he was a man. A normal, healthy man who would of course react to such a thing.
But it didn’t mean anything more than that.
As discreetly as he could, he inched back to the side of the couch, setting his elbow on the armrest.
“She’s my daughter. Of course I don’t mind raising her,” Charlotte said, and for a moment, Greg felt like a jerk for asking such a thing, until she continued. “But I won’t deny that it’s hard. Harder than I could have expected. Still, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
Greg lowered his eyes to his glass and heaved a long breath. He set it to the side, unfinished. It didn’t help. It couldn’t dull the pain that always came after he saw his mother. Nothing could.
“You’re still upset about your mother,” she observed.
“That obvious?”
“Is she always like that? I mean—”
He felt his mouth pull to a thin line as he replayed the dinner. “You know, the thing is that she actually thought you were my fiancée. It was her first time meeting the woman I’m supposedly marrying, and she didn’t ask you a thing about yourself.”
Charlotte gave a small smile. “It sort of took the pressure off. We don’t have to worry about her poking holes in our story.”
Fair enough. He was losing focus, something he rarely did, especially when it came to the business. His grandfather’s business. The thought of it going to Drew…He took a sip of his drink, feeling it burn all the way down his throat. “I’m too old to be getting upset over it, I suppose.”
“I don’t think so,” Charlotte said. “You want her approval. Everyone wants that from the people they love. It’s why you’re doing so much to succeed in the company.”
“Frost Greeting Cards is all I have ever known. It was as big a part of my life as my own parent.” He gave a bitter laugh. “It was like the sibling I was always competing with. At a certain point, I couldn’t imagine my life without it.”
“That’s why this party is so important to you,” Charlotte said, nodding.
“It’s more than that.” Greg hated even thinking about this. “If things don’t go well with Burke, my mother threatened to give the company to my cousin Drew when she retires. My distant cousin.”
He couldn’t imagine sitting back and watching his distant cousin take control of the company. Drew hadn’t lived and breathed Frost the way he had. He hadn’t been invested in it, lived it, or breathed it. It wasn’t a part of his daily life. It was just a job he took when he graduated college. An easy transition into the family company.
“Could she really do that?” Charlotte frowned.
“She could.”
Charlotte hesitated. “Well, could and would are two very different things. She’s anxious.”
He wished he could believe that, but he wasn’t so sure.
“Don’t worry,” Charlotte said, patting his hand. “The party will be great. Just the thing you need to land that account.” She smiled at him, letting him almost relax, when a cry crackled through the monitor, startling them both. Charlotte leaned across the couch, closing the distance between their bodies until he could smell the faint sweetness of her shampoo. Catching his stare, she locked eyes with him, and for a moment, everything around them went still. Her lips were parted in expectation, her green irises soft and warm. There was a dusting of freckles on her nose he hadn’t noticed before. He could lean in, just an inch, maybe two, and see if she’d do the same.
Quickly, he stood up, ignoring the startled expression that passed over Charlotte’s face. “I should probably let you tend to Audrey,” he said, noticing that the crying had increased in volume. Had it been going on that entire time? Somehow he hadn’t even noticed.
Charlotte flicked off the speaker and the noise stopped. She stood up, a small smile playing at her lips.
He wondered if she had felt it, too. The connection. Or possibly just chemistry. Just before he could get lost in the fantasy he had created, she turned to him and said, “Speaking of the party. I really need your decision about the menu by the morning, or I’ll have to place the order myself.”
He frowned. “Oh. Of course. Yes.”
“Both of us need this event to be a success, Greg. We’re a team in this.” Charlotte held up the monitor and began backing out of the room, her smile the last thing he saw as she disappeared from the room. “See you tomorrow, then.”
He nodded, just once. Tomorrow.
* * *
Charlotte woke to Audrey’s familiar cry, as she did every night. She had it down pat by now—the middle of the night wake-up was just for a change, not a feeding. She glanced at the bedside clock, noting that it was only midnight; she’d felt like she’d been asleep for hours somehow.
She changed Audrey quickly and rocked her in her arms as she softly sang the same lullaby her father had once sung to her, nestled in his arms in the big old rocking chair that was still in her childhood room. She tried not to think about the fact that Audrey would never have a memory like that to cherish. She told herself that no father at all was better than a lousy one, but when she dared to wish, dared to dream, she knew she wanted her child to have two parents who loved her.
“I’ll just have to give you double the love,” she said as she set Audrey back in the crib and backed away slowly.
She walked through the dark room and sat on the edge of the bed, knowing that she wouldn’t fall asleep again soon. She had no books with her, and there was no television in the room, not that she could turn it on anyway with Audrey sleeping soundly nearby.
The way she saw it, she could stare at the ceiling until Audrey woke again, or she could venture downstairs to that cozy study Greg had shown her last night. With its soft leather couch and built-in bookshelves full of movies, she was bound to find something that would hold her interest. And it was tucked far enough away that she didn’t see how she could disturb anyone, either.
She tossed a sweater over her T-shirt and grabbed the baby monitor. Soon she was closing the French doors behind her, alone in the study. She turned on a table lamp and studied her choices, grinning when she saw one of her old favorites: a holiday movie she hadn’t watched in years.
She was just snuggling up with a thick chenille blanket when the door creaked open, causing her to jump.
Greg stared at her in amusement, one eyebrow lifted in silent surprise as he stared at her from the doorway. He’d changed since she’d left him a few hours ago, but only into jeans and a sweater. From the looks of it, he hadn’t gone to bed yet.
She looked down at her flannel pajama pants, suddenly wondering if she’d overstepped.
“I’m sorry. I thought I wouldn’t bother anyone here. I couldn’t sleep.”
He shrugged. “That makes two of us. And it’s no bother. I’m usually awake at this hour.”
“Oh.” Charlotte glanced at the television, where the opening credits were starting to play.
“So, what are we watching?” Greg walked casually into the room and dropped onto the sofa next to Charlotte.
She moved over an inch, even though she could have stayed exactly where she was, just close enough to feel the heat of his skin.
She moved over another inch. No good would come from thinking that way.
“A Christmas movie,” she told him.
He curled his lip. “A Christmas movie?”
She balked at him. “You don’t even like Christmas movies?”
He shrugged, but his grin was rueful. “Overexposure.”
She considered this. Being surrounded by Christmas cards and decorations for the better part of a year might be a bit too much of a good thing, she supposed. Still, she wasn’t about to back down, not now that she had her heart set on watching it.
She pointed out the double set of French doors against the far wall, where a view of a snow-covered stone terrace shone in the moonlight. “Look at that. It’s a winter wonderland out there. It’s the perfect night for a holiday movie.”
He didn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”
“I do.” Charlotte settled back against a pillow. “Besides, this one is really terrific—”
“Wait. You’ve seen it before?”
“At least a dozen times! We watch it every Christmas. It’s sort of a family tradition.”
Greg’s brow furrowed. “That sounds nice.”
Charlotte grinned, imagining how wonderful it would be when Audrey was old enough to partake in the event. “Usually we make a big bowl of popcorn, have some hot chocolate. We can recite all the lines, of course, but that’s just part of the fun. Whenever I think of this movie, well, it just feels like coming home.”
Greg glanced at her. “I can make some popcorn if you’d like.”
Charlotte considered the holiday dress she’d hoped to squeeze herself into for the party, and then decided the diet could wait. She grinned. “I’ll pause it. You don’t want to miss the opening scene.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to do that,” Greg teased, but she could sense that he was pleased.
Charlotte couldn’t wipe the smile from her face as she snuggled deeper under the chenille blanket and waited for Greg to return with the popcorn. Despite the size of the house, she could soon make out the sound of popping—she glanced sharply at the baby monitor, silently willing Audrey to be unaware of the noise. She was enjoying herself, maybe more than she should, and she wasn’t ready to be on mom duty again just yet. For a few moments she wanted to just be Charlotte.
And somehow, with Greg, she was. Greg, who didn’t know her past. Greg, who had no hold on her future. Greg, who knew her just as she was. Today. Present moment only. No mistakes. No slipups.
She stared at the frozen television screen. A year ago she had watched this movie alone, with tears streaming down her face as she worked her way through a family-sized bag of potato chips, wondering if her sister and parents were watching it together, if they were happy she wasn’t with them.
Little did she know at the time just how different this year would be. Better. Or at least on the up-and-up.
Greg came into the room with a bowl of popcorn, his grin sheepish. “I won’t lie. It’s microwaved.”
“The best kind,” Charlotte remarked. Her eyes widened slightly as he slid onto the couch beside her again. Was it just her imagination, or was he coming a little closer this time?
She looked to her right. There wasn’t much more space left for her to move. “Ready to start the movie?” she asked, gripping the remote.
He passed her the bowl of popcorn, and she helped herself to a few kernels. “This isn’t one of those feel-good movies, is it?”
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s a holiday movie. What do you think?”
He shook his head, but she could tell by his faint smile that he liked her response. “Oh, boy. Let’s get it over with then.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy it. Trust me.”
He gave her a strange look. “I do trust you.”
She rearranged herself on the couch, unsure of what to make of that remark, and fighting back the strange feeling that she just might be able to trust him, too. If she let herself.
The fell into silence as the movie started, and a few glances at Greg told her that he was fully engrossed within minutes. She smiled in satisfaction and decided to enjoy herself and put her troubles from her mind for a bit. But the next thing she knew the television screen was quiet. There was popcorn sprinkled all over the leather couch, and the baby monitor crackled somewhere behind her.
She tried to remember the last scene in the movie she’d watched and realized with a sinking feeling that she’d fallen asleep well over an hour ago. Her eyes sprang open. She wasn’t in her bedroom, and the pillow under her cheek wasn’t a pillow at all. It was a chest. A very hard, very sturdy, very manly chest. She blinked in panic. Staying as still as she could under the tense circumstances, she listened to the steady drum of Greg’s heartbeat through his sweater, felt the rhythm of his breath as his chest moved softly up and down, moving her with it, almost lulling her into a state of tranquility.
He was asleep. And so help her, she intended for him to remain that way.
Inch by inch, she eased herself off the couch, grabbed the baby monitor by the handle, and made her way to the half-open French doors.
“Hey.”
She winced, and closed her eyes before turning to face the owner of the smooth, groggy voice that was much too deep and husky for her own good. “I think we fell asleep.”
She didn’t bother mentioning just what position they’d ended up in, or how that might have happened. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks when she considered that while she had dozed off somewhere around the scene where the young boy goes to the mall with his wish list, meaning somewhere in the first third of the movie, it was entirely possible that Greg hadn’t nodded off until a few minutes ago.
“Too bad. That was a pretty good movie.”
She nudged him with her elbow. “Told you so.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Rain check then?”
That sounded an awful lot like an invitation she should probably resist, but with that friendly grin and those warm eyes, really, what was a girl to do? “Can’t wait.”
And she realized as she turned from the room and hurried back upstairs that she couldn’t wait. And that was really quite a problem.