Page 39 of A Newport Christmess

“What are those?” Landon asked, and it wasn’t until his thumb brushed across my bare fingers that I realized he was talking about the small scabs that dotted my fingers. “They aren’t hives.”

I stood perfectly still, hoping my quickened breath wasn’t noticeable this close. “They’re from the sugar-glue I use to build the gingerbread houses. You have to melt the sugar until it’s no longer granulated. In its liquid state, it’s scalding hot.”

Concern lingered on his brow. “I have a first-aid kit at the house if you need it.”

“The cold makes them look worse than they are. They usually heal up in a few days.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.” A couple started up the stairs behind us, and Landon put his hand on my waist and pressed against me to allow them room to pass. My breath hitched, and all I could think about was the pressure of his touch and how his body leaned against mine. I glanced up at him to find his inviting copper eyes on me. “Sorry,” he whispered, but he didn’t move. And I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.

“Landon?” A female voice pulled both of our attention to it, and we turned. An older gentleman stood next to a rail-thin woman with perfectly sharp features and long, brown curls that defied the sea breeze.

Landon’s jaw clenched, and his hand that clung to my waist went rigid. “Eliza.”

ELEVEN

LANDON

I stared at Eliza, my heart drumming in my ears from the unexpected encounter. Or maybe it was from Quinn’s proximity. Either way, what was Eliza doing here in Newport? Didn’t she live in one of the Carolinas now? My gaze flicked to her new husband. He stood a little way off with his hands stuffed into his pockets like he was just as leery about the upcoming conversation as I was. For as much as I’d heard he was worth, it surprised me to see he looked like an ordinary man. An old one—easily twice her age—but an ordinary one.

“Landon, how are you?” she asked, her voice full of artificial sincerity. “It’s been a long time.”

I gave a stiff nod. I hadn’t seen Eliza since the divorce, and her sudden appearance had blindsided me. Quinn watched me with an expectant look, but I couldn’t think how to introduce her to my ex-wife and her sugar daddy. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to.

“Hello. I’m Quinn.” Quinn glanced between Eliza and her husband, a casual smile on her lips. Apparently, she’d introduce herself.

“Mark,” Eliza’s husband said, holding out a hand for Quinn to shake. She accepted it without hesitation.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Her gaze shifted to Eliza. “And you’re Eliza?”

Eliza dipped her chin, her gaze doing a once-over of Quinn. “I am.”

“I’m Quinn,” she said again. “I already said that, though, so ...” She released a quick breath. “Are you from Newport, then?”

“Originally, but we live in South Carolina now. We just came to visit my dad for Christmas.”

Quinn aimed her smile at Mark. “I bet that’s nice, having your daughter home for the holidays.”

To Mark’s credit, he chuckled, but Eliza’s face flashed with annoyance.

Quinn glanced at me, obviously confused, and I suddenly found myself repressing a laugh for her sake. “Mark is Eliza’s husband.”

Quinn’s hand shot to her mouth, her eyes rounding. “I’m so sorry. I just assumed with the age difference ...” She forced her lips together, like she was trying to stop herself from talking. “But that’s great. My uncle married a woman thirteen years younger than him, so ... not quite as big of an age gap as between you two ...” She winced at her own comment. “But ... they seem happy. Like I’m sure you are.” She glanced up at me with an apologetic look, and I gave her a smile. Despite what she likely thought, I was glad Quinn was here, filling the silence with her wonderfully awkward comments.

Eliza wore a forced smile. “We are very happy.” Her gaze shifted to me with intention, and she set her hand on her stomach. “We actually will be welcoming our second child this summer.”

Her revelation was a direct hit, and I placed my hand on Quinn’s back as though her small frame could compensate for the blow. I could feel Quinn’s gaze on me, but I couldn’t meet it. All I could think about was the video Eliza had made before leaving me. A mix of lies with partial truths she’d posted for anyone to see. Instantly, my old, festering wounds seemed to rise to the surface, and I shifted uncomfortably, not knowing how to respond.

“Congratulations.” Quinn’s arm wrapped around my back, and she placed her hand on my chest, pulling me from my stupor. She looked at me with intention, and the depths of her blue eyes instantly calmed me. “It’s crazy to think that could be us in a year or two—having a baby. Can you imagine? You’re going to be the best father.” She smiled at me like she meant it before turning her attention back to them. “Like Mark must be to your children.”

I stared at her, not only because of the impromptu charade but how unprepared I was for the force her comment had on me. The sincerity of her smile. And how, even when she could have chosen the lower road and implied Mark wasn’t a good father by her silence, she chose the higher one. Quinn was nothing like Eliza.

Eliza didn’t acknowledge her comment. “So the two of you are together?”

It took me a moment to pull my gaze from Quinn. “It’s still pretty new.” I took Quinn’s hand in mine, intertwining our fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it kind of felt like it. “But with how fast it’s been moving, it’s only a matter of time before we have some big announcements.”

“Wow. That’s great.” Eliza’s tone was falsely upbeat. “Who would have thought we’d both be so lucky in love?”

“And yet, here we all are, living proof of that luck.” Quinn’s amused expression flitted to me, and something inside me shifted. Was I lucky? I suppose I was, but maybe I’d been too swallowed up in the pain to realize it. Eliza had moved on, and I clearly hadn’t. Not that I was still in love with her by any stretch of the imagination. But the last two years since our divorce, all I’d wanted was to prove her wrong. To prove to everyone else she had been wrong about me. That I was everything she’d said I wasn’t. But for what purpose? Eliza didn’t care, and most people that had believed her lies likely hadn’t given me a second thought. I would never be enough for her, but I didn’t want to be. I just wanted to be enough for someone.