“And I will be there for them until the day I die.”
She almost ended the call, but instead sucked in a deep breath and carried on in a civil tone. “You are always welcome to join us at Christmas, as is Sophia. You don’t need an invitation. But know that I will always be there at Christmas. That is my home. That is my family. And nobody can convince me there is a better place for me to be.”
Then she hit the End Call button with a flourish, but her earlier joy had vanished.
Clint held the door to Katie’s Kitchen, a restaurant on Bayview with a Caribbean-themed decor, and ushered Maria in. Once they were settled with glasses of wine, he took her hand across the table. Maria inhaled, absorbing the ambience. Christmas songs played softly in the background, kettle drums being incorporated into the tunes to give a Caribbean feel.
Clint’s phone rang, and he silenced it. “How was the rest of your day after we played hooky?”
“You can answer that if you’d like.” She pointed toward his cell.
“Nobody’s more important than you are right now.”
“Sweet talker.”
He smiled in agreement. “So? The rest of your day was good?”
Maria thought back. They’d been cramming so much into each day, maximizing their time away. They’d go off to do their own thing for an hour or two before meeting up again.
It had been only that afternoon that Kit had left her outside the craft store. And only a few hours ago that she’d decided that yes, she wanted to date Clint once they returned to Sweetheart Creek.
One more day together. What would it bring?
Maria squeezed Clint’s hand, a sense of anticipation building inside her.
“Did you start painting?”
She shook her head. Not much had happened since they’d seen each other a few hours ago. She grimaced, thinking about Roy’s call, and Clint shifted forward, catching her brief switch in moods. He raised his chin as an invitation to discuss what was on her mind.
“Roy called to ask about Christmas,” she revealed.
“Sharing Christmas isn’t easy.”
“How do you and Kay-Lynn manage the holidays?” Clint had two grown kids of his own. They lived in San Antonio now and had families themselves, Kay-Lynn having moved to the city with their preteens after the divorce.
Clint leaned back in his chair, his hand sliding out of her grip. He looked uncomfortable as he ran his palms down his thighs, exhaling slowly, his eyes on a dancing Santa wearing a Rastafarian hat complete with fake dreadlocks.
“It’s that bad?” Maria asked.
“No, not anymore,” he said quickly, though pain was evident in his eyes. “It was when the kids were younger.”
“So how did you get to where you are now—not so bad?”
He gave a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The kids grew up.”
“Well, mine already are, so I suppose that’s a plus.” It still didn’t make it easy, though.
“Christmas Day doesn’t mean as much as it once did.”
Maria felt the muscles in her face slacken.
“No, I meant that sometimes the kids and I celebrate on the day, or before, or after. I learned that it’s just as special, whenever we get together. Christmas is about time with the kids.”
“I’m still at the greedy stage, where I want to spend all of Christmas with my boys.”
He didn’t laugh, as she expected. “I think a mom always will.” His words were carefully chosen. “And I also think with you living on the ranch with several of them, it feels natural to wake up and spend Christmas morning together. Then the rest of the day.”
“I told Roy that he and Sophia are welcome to join us. He feels he needs an invitation because he’s become a guest in his childhood home.” Maria studied the tablecloth, a blend of Christmas and beach patterns. Her heart felt heavy. She hadn’t ousted Roy, and she knew it wasn’t her fault he felt that way about the ranch.
“He left the place, didn’t he?” Clint asked.
“Yeah, but now I live there again. I don’t think he saw that one coming.”
“I don’t see Sophia as the ranching type.”
“Oh, she’s not,” Maria said quickly. That was the key reason Roy had moved to town.
“Then I think this is a Roy problem, not a Maria problem.”
“I know.”
“But you still feel responsible, don’t you?”
She nodded and took a sip of her wine.
“I have faith the two of you will work it out. And it gets easier with each passing year.”
“Does it?”
“You know, after Kay-Lynn left me—”
“Why did she?”
Clint inhaled breath between his teeth, then blew it out. “You would think after all these years I would understand it a bit better.”
“You don’t know?”
“Apparently I was never her true love.” He had reached for Maria’s hand, but then withdrew his own, studying her.
“What?”
He shook his head, looking away. “Nothing.”
She wondered if he feared he might be moving too fast, repeating old mistakes. Thinking she was the new Kay-Lynn. Just like she sometimes caught herself thinking he might leave her, like Roy had.
But Clint hadn’t left his wife.
He had followed Maria to a different state for a vacation, in fact. Was he thinking it was love? Or was it simply an opportunity to get to know her better?
If they’d stayed in Sweetheart Creek, how long would it have taken them to reach this level of trust and affection? Years? Here, it had taken only a few days.
“I’m glad you came to Indigo Bay,” she said.
“Are you?”
“I am.” She smiled. Friendship, laughter, joy. That’s how she’d sum up this vacation. And kisses. Lots of wonderful kisses.
“I’m glad, too.”
They were silent for a moment.
“So? Tell me about these bags you needed to race out and buy paint for. They’re for the gala’s gold-level sponsors? Or did you just say you wanted to paint them in order to escape a man who was getting all serious on you?” He rested his arms on the table, leaning forward.
She laughed. “As embarrassing as it is, both.”
“Well, I guess whatever gets you back into the groove of painting again is worth it.”
“Really, I am so sorry for running out on you.”
Their appetizer arrived, interrupting her apology.
“I tend to move fast,” Clint said, dunking a pita chip in the shared bowl of cheese dip.
They both moaned as the rich food hit the spot. They were starting to make a dent in it when Maria’s phone rang, the sound causing a few people to glance her way. She reached into her jacket pocket, hitting the silence button, then glanced at the screen, noting it was Levi. She put the phone back in her pocket.
When she glanced up, Clint was watching her. “Answer it.”
She shook her head. “It’s Levi. I’m sure it’s not important.”
Clint looked thoughtful for a moment. “You should call him back.”
“Why?” He had silenced his phone, but she should answer hers? What was that about? Or was it a way to prove to her that her boys were important and it was okay if they intruded?