He’d tried to show her how he felt about her. Tried to make it clear that he didn’t care about her past, that he wanted her for her heart first, not just her body. Tried to show her respect and kindness…and look where it had gotten him: broken-hearted and alone.
If he’d never known the way it felt for her to smile into his eyes, for her to touch his face, kiss his lips, tell him that she believed in him, it might have been bearable for him to anticipate Christmas Eve and Day all alone. He might have even accepted the Andersons’ invitation to join them for Christmas dinner and just felt grateful to be included. But he didn’t want to be with anyone but Missy, and if he couldn’t be with her, he’d hole up in his dank room and wait it out. Wait out his first Christmas of freedom since beating up Roy, since his incarceration, since Jody’s death. He’d read or listen to music, or heck, maybe he’d just get drunk. Whatever he did, he’d do it alone, and he’d try not to think about Missy Branson.
“Lucas.”
He jumped at the sound of her voice, surprised that she was behind the warming counter and so close to him. Waitresses weren’t supposed to be in the small work area.
“Where’d you come from?”
“I’ve been here all day.”
She still had her cardigan on, modestly buttoned up with just a bit of her neck showing up top. She still had that black ribbon in her light blond hair too—the one she’d worn on Monday night. It made his heart ache to see it. Why couldn’t she see herself the way he saw her? Why couldn’t she see that she was kind and good and had her whole life in front of her? She didn’t think she was someone worth having. Someone worth staying with. Leave her? Hell, he’d never leave her if she belonged to him. He’d build his whole life around her. But she was so convinced she was worthless she wouldn’t even give them a chance.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” she replied softly.
“So?”
“What’re you doing tonight?”
“Nothing,” he answered, turning back to the grill.
“Lucas,” she said again.
“What?” he growled, facing her, angry with her for making him love her only to leave him all alone in it, wanting her, missing her.
She gave him a gentle smile, like his gruff tone didn’t bother her a bit. “Come over at eight.”
Then she turned and walked away.
Chapter 6
Missy wasn’t sure he’d show up. Stu had closed the Blue Moon at three o’clock after the lunch rush, but Lucas had hurried out the back door and she’d missed him. Whether he deliberately tried to avoid her she didn’t know, but she tried not to think about it. She wasn’t able to ask if he was planning to come over or not. But she hoped he would. Lord, how she hoped.
The inside of her house looked like Santa’s Workshop.
She’d spent two paychecks’ worth of savings at Target on Wednesday buying up any and every Christmas decoration that would fit into her small car.
A fully decorated Christmas tree stood in the picture window, which was also roped with multicolored twinkle lights. The mantel over the fireplace was draped with greens, white lights and bright red, blown glass balls that caught the lights and sparkled. Every available table and countertop had a festive music box, Santa or snowman, and a small army of nutcrackers had invaded the china cabinet in the dining room.
She checked her watch: seven-fifty.
After lighting the candles on the coffee table, she pressed play on the CD and DVD players, the latter of which she’d set to mute. The sounds of Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Star Carol” filled her home with gentle music, while on TV, Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney sang soundlessly about snow.
She checked on the small tray she’d laid out on the kitchen table: two cups, a small bottle of rum, a jar of nutmeg and a small plate of homemade Christmas cookies. She’d even put a sprig of holly beside the plate, just for a little extra cheer. The eggnog was chilling in the fridge and she could also offer him—
Ding-dong!
Missy jumped a foot, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself.
He was here. He had come after all.
She smoothed the cream pants she’d worn on Monday night, now coupled with a new red cowl-neck angora sweater she’d bought along with the decorations. She closed her eyes and smiled in relief, opening the front door with a wide smile.
Lucas stood on the doorstep holding a wrapped gift in one hand and a poinsettia in the other. He offered her a tentative smile, as though he wasn’t sure what to expect. She almost sighed aloud, she was so glad to see him, so glad that their quarrel was almost behind them.
“Merry Christmas, Lucas,” she said.
“You got a tree,” he realized, peeking around her. “Can I come in and see it?”
“Yes! Yes, please, come in!” She stepped aside to make room for him in the small front hallway. She was nervous. Goodness gracious, she was so nervous.
He handed her the plant. “It’s for your mom. I didn’t know if she—”
“She’s at church,” said Missy, taking it from him. “She sings in the choir at eight, nine-thirty and midnight on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s a lot of church. None for you?” he asked, grinning as he unwound his scarf from his neck and handed her his jacket.
“I went at four…when the little ones go,” she added, hanging up his coat and trying not to ogle him in new-looking jeans and a pressed white dress shirt. “Make yourself at home.”
When she turned from the closet, he was standing next to the Christmas tree, clutching the wrapped present under his arm.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I love it,” he whispered, staring at the ornaments, reaching out gingerly here and there to touch them.
“That’s good,” she said, standing beside him. “Because it’s yours. It’s all for you.”
“Missy.” He turned slowly, his face pained, his eyes searching, waiting for her to say more.
It would be hard for her to say words she’d never said before. But she had to say them. She had to be sure he knew how she felt about him.
“For Christmas, I wanted to give you, well…Christmas.” She paused a second, hoping that didn’t sound stupid and then deciding it didn’t matter. “Lucas, you’ve said a lot of beautiful things to me, but it’s hard for me to believe you, to really believe that you’d want to be with someone like me…that you could possibly…” Her voice broke and she swallowed again, rubbing her hands together and forcing herself not to look away from him. “Want me. But I’m going to trust you. I promise you I’m going to try. And I just wanted to say…” She blinked back tears. “…for however long you stay, for as long as you’re here in Gardiner, I just want to be with you. Just you, and, I mean, I just wondered if…if you’d let me love you.”
He winced, holding her eyes. His voice was out of breath, strangled. “Let you?”
Missy nodded, taking a step toward him. He placed the present he was holding on the coffee table behind her and pulled her against him, leaning his head into her neck. She could feel his jaw clench and unclench.