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Tristan rested his chin on her head. Quinn had no idea what she was asking of him. When Calista made her mind up about something, that was it. It was do-or-die for her. Unless it came to socks and Pottery Barn, apparently. But she had looked at him. Maybe there was a shred of hope they could at least be friends, for Quinn’s sake. This was insane thinking. It would take a miracle for Calista to even acknowledge his existence. But … it was Christmas—the season of miracles. And if anyone deserved her Christmas wish, it was Quinn. For her, he had to try.
“What time did you say I should come over tonight to help you and your aunt plan Christmas?”
CALISTA
AFTER A LONG FIRST DAY IN the ER, which included a close call of being vomited on and one marriage proposal from a kindly old man with dementia, I drove up Stella’s lengthy drive. I wanted nothing more than to sink into a hot bath before indulging in a Cary Grant marathon with Quinn, but she’d already texted me that the uncle was there. Ugh. Seriously, why did I ever date him? Okay, I knew why. It was the way he would look at me with those pale-blue eyes of his. They didn’t undress me. No, they said, I’ll wait for you to show me what you want, when you want. It was the sexiest thing ever for him to just let me be me. To let me come to him when I was good and ready. That was, until he didn’t want me. But until then, I’d never felt so loved and admired.
Come to find out, it was just a lie.
Man, was he a good liar. He sure had me fooled. Idiot.
It was fine. I had been ignoring him for thirteen years, except for my very tiny recent slipup at the funeral, but that would never happen again. It was going to be a little harder now to pretend he didn’t exist, considering we lived in the same zip code and we both loved Quinn more than anything. But I liked a challenge. What could be harder than working twenty-hour shifts in the ER? Or removing a superglued toilet seat off some poor college kid’s butt? That was not the weirdest thing I had seen in the ER. Poor mortified guy. I bet he never drank again or went to another frat party.
The point was, I could do this. No problem. Tristan was nothing to me other than a lapse of judgment. I should have known better than to date him. Or worse, swear to him I was going to marry him and have at least four babies with him. I would daydream out loud with him about a little cozy cabin with a wraparound deck. He would be a ski instructor during the winter, and in the summer months we would lead wilderness excursions. We would take our babies with us, strapped on our backs like we were the Swiss Family Robinson or something. It was simple and perfect. Or at least I used to think so.
I cringed, thinking of it now. Especially knowing he was probably laughing behind my back about it the entire time we were together. I was just his bad habit, after all. How could I have been so foolish to think it would ever work out? His parents and friends all looked down on me because of where I came from. And unlike Stella, I wouldn’t pretend to be someone I’m not. I was proud of my side of the lake. My parents were the best people. They always helped others and gave what they could, even though we never had a lot. My dad gave his life trying to save a family that got caught out on the lake during a terrible thunderstorm. I wanted to be just like them. You know, except the dying young part. All I knew was I didn’t need Tristan to accomplish that. Never did, never will.
I parked my car in front of the four-car detached garage that looked more like a fancy guest house. I didn’t think Stella wanted me to park my old Honda next to her nice, shiny luxury vehicles. She had offered to let me drive Jonathon’s Mercedes G-Class SUV since it was getting snowier and snowier. I’d refused on principle, and because I’m pretty sure the G stood for gaudy. Someday, I would buy a used Jeep or something. It seemed to be the vehicle of choice for ER doctors. Not sure why, but it was true. It was probably a good idea to get four-wheel drive, seeing as I had to live in this forsaken town until Quinn graduated and decided what to do with her life. Then I would follow her to college or something.
I got out of the car slowly, not looking forward to another awkward situation. Admittedly, I felt juvenile for blatantly ignoring someone, but I’d made a solemn vow. And I knew if I broke it, something bad would happen. Like the world would stop turning. At least my world would, and that I couldn’t have. Tristan had made my world stop once before, and I would never feel so vulnerable again.
With several deep breaths in and out, I trudged my way over to the steps leading up to the kitchen entrance. I passed Tristan’s old black Ford truck. I had to stop and catch my breath. It shocked me he still had the thing. I remember picking it up from the dealership with him like it was yesterday. He’d bought the beast with big four-wheel drive wheels to haul his horse trailer. I couldn’t help but peek at the tailgate to see if the dent I’d put in it the first time I drove it was still there. With squinty eyes, I scanned the back of the worn truck, hoping he’d fixed it. I felt awful the day it’d happened. Although he was partly to blame. I was backing out of my drive, and he put his hand on my thigh at just the wrong moment. I hit the mailbox, bending the post clear over.
He wasn’t mad at all, even though the truck was all of a week old. I’d offered to get it fixed, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He’d said it added character to it and was proof I wasn’t entirely perfect.
When I opened my eyes fully, there the dent was on the same tailgate that had seen a lot of heated kisses. The best kisses of my life. I shook my head, trying not to think about how Tristan would start off by being agonizingly chaste about it, a taste here and there, driving me mad with his teasing. From there, the kiss would become more intimate, yet still sweet, while he would gently sweep my mouth with his tongue. Then when we were breathing the same breaths, the kiss would turn deep and ravenous while his hands ran through my hair, decimating my ponytail or braid. The best part was how he always kissed his way over to my ear, his stubble brushing my cheek as he went. He would whisper the most beautiful things in my ear. Mostly how much he loved me and couldn’t imagine his life without me in it.
Like I said, he was a good liar.
This wasn’t a good start to the night. I shouldn’t reminisce about the time we’d shared that was better than good. Something like magic. But just like magic, it was an illusion.
Rattled, I marched up the wooden stairs, only to find Stella walking out the kitchen entrance. She was dressed to the nines in a party dress and a long black silk coat, her hair in an updo. My brow raised. “Wow. Are you hitting the club?” I asked sarcastically, a bit miffed she was leaving Quinn.
She tittered nervously. “No. I’m meeting some friends at the country club.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. It was still weird to think my sister belonged to a country club. “Quinn really wants an old-fashioned Christmas this year. Why don’t you stay and help us plan it?”
She waved her perfectly manicured hand around. “You and Tristan are much better at that sort of thing. I’ll leave you to it.” She rushed past me.
I turned to watch her hustle down the stairs in her stilettos. “Stella, you can’t run from this. From Quinn.”
Even in the dark of night, I could see her eyes well up with tears. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand what?”
Stella stood there for a moment, at a loss for words. “I’m not strong like you, okay? Please, just take care of Quinn. I’ll be back later.” She ran like her life depended on it.
I watched her go, not sure what to make of the situation.
“There you are,” Quinn cheerfully called from the door.
I put on a fake smile before turning around, making sure it was only Quinn at the door. I couldn’t have any accidental looks at the uncle. Thankfully, it was just my perfect niece in a hoodie and pajama pants.
“Hi, Quinny. How was your day?” I walked up the remaining steps.
She rubbed her arms from the cold. “Good. Uncle Tristan and I went horseback riding,” she sang to a devious tune.
“That sounds nice,” I said without grimacing, knowing full well she was setting a trap.
