Take Me Home for Christmas (Whiskey Creek #5)(69)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Not entirely,” he grumbled, but it did. He was just hesitant to acknowledge the legitimacy of her concerns. He wasn’t sure that, in the past four weeks, he’d been able to come very close to the target she’d painted for him.

Was he falling in love with her? It didn’t feel like it. He kept telling himself that he had to give their relationship more time, try harder, be more dedicated, stop thinking of Sophia. But he couldn’t order his heart to love one person instead of another. Despite the hurt she’d caused him, it was still Sophia who took his breath away.

“When it comes to me, to us, I don’t want you to rely on some…checklist that has more to do with your head than your heart,” Eve explained. “No girl wants to be a consolation prize.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying,” he told her, but he feared her expectations were set too high. If she hoped to own his heart the way Sophia once had—he couldn’t deliver that.

“You appreciate it?” she said. “That’s your response?”

She’d given him an opportunity to reassure her, and he’d blown it. They’d been sleeping together for a month. He could see how, after that much time, she might be curious as to where he stood on the relationship. But how could he convince her they were heading toward marriage when he felt no closer to it today than the morning after they’d first made love? Just a few minutes ago, it had been all he could do not to carry Sophia to his bed. If she hadn’t been drunk, there was even a chance he might have succumbed…. “I care about you—”

“You cared about me a month ago, Ted.” She paused and he waited, tense, for her to continue. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Think how easy your life will be if you stick with Eve. Don’t be Rhett Butler! “I don’t know what to say.” He scratched his head, hard, as if that would somehow set his brain straight. “I want to feel the way you want me to.”

“But it’s not there. That’s the rest of the sentence, isn’t it?”

Shit. He could hear the disappointment in her voice. He was hurting her even though he’d promised himself he’d never do that. “Maybe not yet, but…that doesn’t mean what we have can’t develop into whatever we want it to be. I won’t give up. Not as long as you’re interested in trying.”

“How flattering. You’re asking me to rely on the power of your will. Your determination.”

He’d said the wrong thing, been too honest. “It’s not just determination. It’s knowing that you’re…that you’re everything I should want in a wife.”

“So I get a better score on your checklist.”

“I don’t have a checklist!”

“Never mind. I think a month of giving it all we’ve got is enough, don’t you?”

“A month isn’t that long, Eve. We’ve barely gotten started. And we have a…a good relationship. We never fight. We enjoy each other. We trust each other.”

“There we go. That’s it. You trust me, but you don’t trust Sophia.”

Could anyone trust Sophia? Maybe she wouldn’t be able to beat her addiction. Maybe what she’d been through had scarred her too deeply. Or maybe she’d get back on her feet but move away. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with basing a relationship on trust, nothing wrong with what we’ve got.”

“Except that we’re trying to make it into something it’s not!”

He said nothing, could say nothing.

She was the one who eventually broke the silence. “That night in the hot tub…”

He fell back on his pillows. Remembering that night should’ve brought him pleasure. But it didn’t, not any more than the encounters he’d had with various other women along the way. Only Sophia stood out. “What about it?”

“Why did you make it sexual?”

“I couldn’t see why we shouldn’t be together. I thought it would fulfill both our needs.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say it was because you were drunk.”

“Come on, we’ve discussed this.”

“Except that there’s more to it than what you’ve admitted. You wanted to protect yourself from getting back with Sophia, right? You needed to insert someone between you and her to feel safe.”

This conversation was moving into dangerous territory, but he had no clue how to turn it around. “If you know that now, you knew it then. So why’d you go along with it?”

“Because I wanted to believe. I wanted to delude myself as much as you did.”

At least she was taking some responsibility for the situation.

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Eve. My brain has never functioned properly when it comes to her.”

She laughed without mirth. “Hello! Then stop pretending you don’t know what love is!”

“I feel sorry for her and, yes, I’m attracted to her. I’m not sure that’s love,” he said. “Anyway, love doesn’t necessarily make a relationship successful.”

“No, but it gives you a hell of a lot more to fight for—and it makes life far more rewarding when you win. In any case, I’m stepping out of the picture. That means you’ll have to figure out what you feel for her and deal with it one way or another,” she said and hung up.

Ted stayed on his bed for…he didn’t know how long. He just lay there, wrestling with himself and staring at the ceiling. He wanted to give Sophia a chance. She seemed to have changed in all the important areas. But her life was in shambles. After coming out of such a bad marriage, after going through what she’d endured for fourteen years, was she even in a position to know what she wanted?

And what if she couldn’t overcome her addiction?

* * *

As soon as she heard Cheyenne’s voice, Eve almost hung up—but it was too late. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t spoken yet; she’d placed the call so her name would’ve come up on Chey’s screen.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Cheyenne said cheerfully.

That confirmed it. There was recognition in that greeting. “Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”

Normally, Eve loved this time of year. They were heading into December, which was her favorite month. It was a tradition that she and Cheyenne decorate the B and B for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. Once they came back from coffee, they’d drag the wreaths and garlands out of the attic and, by Sunday night, Little Mary’s would look like the subject of a Norman Rockwell painting, with a fire burning in the hearth and the old-fashioned Victorian Christmas tree in front of the window. The competing B and B at the other end of town spent a lot of money when they remodeled a couple of years ago, but Eve didn’t think they came close to the quaint charm of her place—not during the holidays. Even the cemetery next door, with its lovely iron filigree fence and century-old tombstones, added to the ambience. And if they were lucky, there’d be snow….