by Jill Shalvis
Spence shook his head and shrugged out of his jacket, handing it over.
His grandpa pulled it on and smiled. “Warm.”
“I’ve given you a bunch of jackets and other warmer weather gear. Why aren’t you wearing any of it?”
His grandpa shrugged, pulling the hood over his wild hair. “Some of my friends don’t have a you.”
Spence read between the lines on that one. “So you gave it all away to keep them warm.”
Eddie didn’t answer. Instead he worked his way through the pockets of the jacket, locating a candy bar and grinning with happiness over the find.
Spence gave up with the life lectures and stared at the fountain as his grandpa had been doing. He was exhausted. And . . . dammit. Sad.
“You could try to fix it with her, you know.”
Spence let out a low, mirthless laugh. “You’ve got a helluva lot of nerve lecturing me on my life. Look at yours.”
“Exactly,” Eddie said, for once his smile and good nature gone. “You’re just like I was. My mind was always working ten steps ahead of everyone else. I shut everything and everyone out.”
Spence had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the rest of this conversation. “I already know this. Dad and Grandma told me a long time ago.”
“Told you what?”
“That you chose work over family. How after a bunch of grief from both places, you eventually decided you didn’t need either one and just up and left one day.”
His grandpa huffed. “There’s two sides to every story, you know.”
“You have something to say, say it.”
Eddie nodded to the bench next to him for Spence to sit. So Spence sat. For a few minutes they were silent.
“You know I was an inventor like you,” Eddie finally said. “I had the brains for it. But not for the business side of things. I had a partner. Not as good a man as Caleb, I might add. He stole ten patents out from right under my nose and I didn’t even notice. My ability to focus on the work came with thick blinders and everything else fell by the wayside.”
Spence stared at him. “So you just left? Your life wasn’t all about business. You walked away from your family too.”
“I was broke. Broke and humiliated, and had nothing left to offer. I’d lost everything.”
“Your family didn’t care,” Spence said. “All Grandma wanted was you, and she’d have taken whatever part of you she could get. She would’ve been willing to share you with work. Dad too.”
Eddie held his gaze and slowly nodded. “I know that now. Because hindsight is twenty-twenty. What I don’t know is how you’re sitting there judging me but you’re not believing it yourself. Because if you were believing it, you’d be in New York, chasing down the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“You can’t chase love.”
“Wrong,” Eddie said. “You can do whatever you want. Life is short, Spence. Don’t waste it on stuff that doesn’t matter.”
“Are you saying family doesn’t matter?”
“I’m saying that people make mistakes. So forgive. Love. Laugh.”
“Now you sound like a slogan for the Hallmark Channel.”
“Hey,” Eddie said. “I like the Hallmark Channel. It makes me smile, and you know what? You could use a little bit more of that.”
Elle came through the courtyard, holding a box. She looked perfectly put together, the only thing giving away her earlier “meeting” in Archer’s office being her overly flushed cheeks. She stopped in front of Spence.
“No,” he said.
“I didn’t say anything yet,” she said.
“You’re going to tell me another woman sent me yet another present.”
She dropped the box in his lap. “Another woman sent you yet another present.”
“Dammit, Elle.”
“Open it.”
He met her gaze and saw something there that had him sighing and taking the box. In it was a duffle bag much like his old one but not battered and abused—filled with all his favorite candy bars. The jumbo sizes.
His throat tightened but it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest.
“Wow,” Elle said. “The perfect gift for you. I’ve been trying to get you to replace your piece-of-shit duffle bag for a year.”
Eddie reached into the box and took a candy bar in each hand. “You’re not nearly as smart as you pretend to be if you don’t go after that girl.”
“That might just be the first thing you and I agree on,” Elle told Eddie.
He beamed at her. “See, I’ve finally worn you down with my charm.” He clapped a hand on Spence’s shoulder. “Time to use yours, boy, and go get our girl.”
Spence rose to his feet. “I need some air.”
“We’re already outside,” Eddie said, but Spence kept walking, heading toward the street and his truck. He pulled out his phone and called Colbie. He missed her. He loved her. And dammit, he wasn’t just going to let her go. At least not until he told her.
She didn’t answer.
He was still holding his phone when it vibrated with an incoming call. His heart leapt but it was just Finn.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” his friend opened with.
“Yeah?” Spence said, not feeling the spirit in the least. “So?”
“So . . . you’re supposed to be at the pub.”
“Why?” Spence asked.
“Because that’s what we do on Christmas Eve. We all hang out together. Hurry. I need you for something first.”
“What?”
Finn sighed. “Just get your ass over here.”
Spence blew out a breath. “Fine.”
“Now, right?”
“Jesus, you’re out of control, but yeah, whatever.”
He was nearly to the pub when his phone rang again and he answered without looking at the screen. “I said I’m coming, I’m fucking coming.”
“Spence.”
He nearly tripped over his own feet at the sound of Colbie’s voice in his ear. Which reminded him that he was a complete dumbass who wasn’t supposed to answer his phone without looking at the screen first.
But in this case, he was glad, so very glad he had. Just the sound of her had him in knots, in the very best of ways. “Hey,” he said, softening his voice. “Sorry, I thought it was Finn.”
“And I’m sorry I missed your call.” She paused. “It’s good to hear you, Spence.”
He stopped at the door of the pub, stilled by a rush of love and heat and hunger. He closed his eyes. “Same.”
“Where are you?”
He walked into the pub, his phone still up to his ear as he took in the room.
The place was lit up for the holiday, with soft white twinkling lights strung from the rafters and in and around the hanging lanterns, giving off a warm holiday glow that might have reached Spence if his heart wasn’t shrunk to the size of the Grinch’s.
Finn and Sean always closed on Christmas Eve. It was their gang only. They always had dinner and drinks together and toasted the holiday in their own way. Usually with a vicious, high-stakes dart tournament and then a round of pool.
“I’m in the pub,” he said to Colbie. And I wish you were here . . . And it was like the wanting conjured her up. He could feel her.
“Me too,” she said in surround sound, both in his ear and from behind him.
He whipped around and, phone still at his ear, saw her about twenty steps away, at the bar. Their eyes locked and it was all he could do to breathe. She started toward him and he could feel his entire face lighting up. She was in a little black dress and some serious black boots and his heart wasn’t the only thing that took notice.
A warm smile curved her lips as her green gaze ate him up much the same way his was doing to her. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present in person.”
“You already sent me one,” he said inanely, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.
“That one was a decoy. This one’s bigger.” She grin
ned. “And hopefully better.”
“What is it?” he asked.
She pulled her phone from her ear, tossed it to the bar, and pointed to herself.
Chapter 30
#FudgeNuggets
Colbie’s heart was thundering in her chest, ricocheting off her ribs. She was going on fumes at this point and grateful that going from east to west had given her three extra hours of Christmas Eve. It’d allowed her to zip her way back here in time for this. For what would hopefully be the best night of her life.
Their life. Spence stood before her looking like the sexiest geek she’d ever seen, all tall, dark, and as rumpled and exhausted as she.
And clearly shocked to see her.
Having no idea what he could possibly be thinking, she stepped closer and put a hand on his chest to ground herself to his calm energy. But beneath her palm, his heart was beating like hers, which boosted her confidence some. “I missed you, Spence.”
His hands went on her arms, one gliding up her shoulder to stroke her throat before he tucked a lock of her hair behind an ear. “Thought you didn’t see visiting each other working out that well,” he said.
“I was wrong.” She turned her face into his palm, planting a kiss in the center of it, over his rough calluses. “I was very wrong, about a lot of things actually.” When she met his gaze again, his had grown warm with so many things her throat clogged. It seemed like forever since he’d looked at her like that and she melted as he pulled her to him and kissed her long and hard.
“Missed that,” he said, voice rough. “Missed you, Colbie. So much.”
She tugged him down for another kiss and then another, after which they were both breathing heavily. She had her hands fisted in his jacket, every cell in her body alive and singing as he nuzzled her temple, then placed a kiss at her jaw. “You going to tell me what else you were wrong about?” he asked.
“You already know.”
“Sometimes it’s nice to hear.” His mouth brushed her earlobe as he spoke and she clutched his arms to get a grip.
“I have a terrible habit of running away,” she admitted. “And apparently I come by it naturally.” She shook her head. “I thought it was my brothers who needed to grow up. Turns out it was me too. I left you because what I felt for you scared me.”
“And . . . you’re not scared anymore?”
“No, I’m still scared. Terrified,” she conceded. “But I’m more terrified of losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You mean writing in San Francisco?”
She choked out a laugh. “You. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Spence.”
He cupped her face and pressed his forehead to hers. “Right back at you,” he said with quiet steel.
She gripped his wrists. “Tell me I didn’t screw up so badly with you that you’re not willing to give me another try.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked in disbelief. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes too, especially when it came to you. So let me show you how willing I really am.” He let go of her to fish in his pocket for his phone, bringing up his boarding pass. To New York.
She stared at it. “You were coming to me?”
“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “It was the first flight I could get. I’d forgotten to tell you something.”
“What?”
His thumb swiped over a few tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “That I love you,” he said with no hesitancy. “I told you, Colbie, I’m playing for keeps. I know that this thing between us scared you and I can give you whatever you need: time, space, patience . . . I can give you all of that and more, but what I can’t do is let you walk away.”
“I love you too,” she said, and at the words she didn’t know she had in her, butterflies took flight in her belly.
“For how long?” he asked.
She stared at him, confused by the question. “How long am I going to love you? Seriously?” Unable to find the words for that, she shook her head, marveled, boggled, because somehow, in spite of themselves, they hadn’t managed to screw everything up. “So to be clear, we just decided to be together . . . right?”
“Right.”
Could it really be that easy? “And about living three thousand miles apart?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I like New York.”
She blinked. “But you own this building here in San Francisco.”
“I could buy another.”
“But you love this building,” she said. “You built yourself an entire community and made it home.”
“Funny thing about that,” he said with quiet intensity. “I thought I needed to create a physical home for myself. I thought that’s what home meant. Turns out it’s not a physical space at all.”
“No?” she asked, hope filling her chest.
“No. See, home is wherever you are.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, that’s good. I need to write that down—”
He laughed while she fumbled through her big bag for one of the note cards he’d sent. She scribbled down the words and then stilled, looking up into his face, realizing he was waiting out her special brand of crazy. Quickly, she shoved the note back into her purse. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” she asked softly.
He smiled. “Thanks for saying so in front of our audience.”
She looked around. They were alone, just as Finn had told her they would be. “What audience?”
Heads silently popped up from behind the bar. Finn. Pru. Sean. Willa and Keane. Elle. Archer. Joe. Molly. Kylie. Haley. Caleb . . . They all waved.
“Carry on,” Sean said. “Don’t mind us.”
Colbie laughed and turned back to Spence. “So . . . a few months in San Francisco and then a few in New York? Or vice versa?”
“I can go either way,” Spence said. “What I can’t go either way on is being without you.”
This was met by a thundering applause and accompanying cat whistles. They were all sitting on the bar now, sharing bottles of champagne, starting without them.
Spence bowed and then grabbed Colbie’s hand and pulled her in close.
She stared up at him, needing to know. “Are we really doing this?”
“Yes.” He kissed her jaw, her cheek. The tip of her nose. There was a smile in his voice, but his eyes were serious. “So let me ask you again,” he said. “For how long?”
She closed her eyes for a beat, savoring the feel of him against her. How long? Was he kidding? Forever and ever would maybe do it. “I guess until you get tired of me.”
He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “I determined on day one that I was never going to get tired of you.”
“Never ever?”
“Never ever,” he repeated, sliding a hand through her hair to tip her face up. “Think you can handle that?”
“Oh yeah.” She kissed him, knowing she was never going to get tired of him either. Never ever.
Epilogue