The Christmas Proposition (16 page)

T
hree hours later, Rachel and Mickie were still waiting for Derek to arrive. They hadn’t settled on a definite time last night. Rachel had told him to come over sometime in the morning.

“When is he going to be here?” Mickie whined. “I thought you said we could open gifts at ten.”

Keeping the child up last night had been a mistake. There were dark circles under her eyes. And all she’d done since she’d gotten up was complain. The child had never been this cranky, not even when they’d argued over Tom’s pictures.

“Not long.” Rachel finished covering the breakfast casserole with foil, then slid it back in the oven to keep warm. “You look tired.”

Mickie shrugged.

“Fred looks tired, too. Why don’t you take him to
your bedroom and lie down for a few minutes? I know he won’t go without you.”

“But the gifts—”

“I’ll come get you the minute Der—er, Mr. Rossi, arrives.”

To Rachel’s amazement, Mickie didn’t argue but padded back to her bedroom with the dog at her side.

Less than fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded at the front door.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Derek said, the second she opened the door. “I’d already made it to Jackson when I realized I’d forgotten the gifts and had to turn back.”

Flakes of snow dusted his dark hair and she noticed he’d started wearing cowboy boots with his jeans, like most of the men in town.

Rachel stepped aside to let him enter, then quickly shut the door against the frigid north wind while he placed the presents under the tree and hung up his coat.

“I thought you’d be here earlier,” she said when he looked her way.

“I wanted to be, but it took longer than I thought to finalize some…arrangements.”

Rachel remembered Mickie’s disappointed expression. “You could have called.”

“I had so much on my mi—” He stopped himself. “You’re right. I should have called. My apologies.”

He glanced around the room. “Where’s Mick?”

“She was Little Miss Whiny this morning,” Rachel said with a sigh. “I suggested she rest a bit, but promised I’d let her know the second you arrived.” Rachel turned toward the hall. “I better—”

“Wait.” Derek reached out and touched her arm. “There’s a part of your Christmas gift I wanted to give you privately. Let’s take advantage of the opportunity.”

“O-kay.” Rachel’s heart gave a little leap, then settled into an unsteady rhythm against her ribs. She sat on the sofa and he took a seat beside her. If he noticed her diamond ring next to Tom’s picture, he didn’t mention it. Maybe she should just tell him what was in her heart.

Nervous energy rolled off him in waves. He pressed an envelope into her hand. “This is the first part.”

She opened the envelope with shaking hands. Two sheets of paper were nestled inside. Airline itineraries. One for her. One for Mickie.

“Tickets for us to L.A.” Rachel lifted her gaze. “January 9 to 12.”

“I’m receiving an award on the tenth for broadcast excellence,” Derek said. “And I want both of you there with me.”

Rachel heard the pride in his voice. Justifiable pride. The award was a sign, a very visible indication, that he’d successfully made the often-difficult transition from athlete to expert sports commentator.

“Congratulations.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a big kiss. “You’re a rock star.”

He flushed with pleasure. “My mother and Jim, as well as my sister and her family are flying in.” He took her hand. “It will be a great opportunity for you and Mickie to meet them. I thought we could—”

“I can’t go.” Regret made her voice thick.

His smile disappeared. “You can’t? Why not?”

Please God, please. Help him understand.

“The community is dedicating a fallen heroes
memorial at the city park.” Rachel spoke faster as storm clouds began forming in his eyes. “Most of the men and women being honored are fallen military and law enforcement, except for—”

“Tom.”

He practically spat the name and her temper flared. Mickie wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of a late night. But Rachel managed to keep a tight rein on her emotions, reminding herself that Derek was disappointed. But still, couldn’t he see that she was disappointed, too? “If it were any other day, I’d love to—”

“Tom is dead. I’m alive,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’re telling me you’d rather stay here and commemorate the past rather than come with me and celebrate the future?”

“It’s not just me, Derek. Tom’s parents are flying in. The clerk he protected is coming. How can I not be there? I’m his wife and—” Rachel stopped. “I mean, I
was
his wife.”

Derek jumped to his feet. “You got it right the first time.”

Though he stood close enough to touch, she felt him slipping further and further away. A sudden desperation took hold. She rose to her feet. “Please, let me explain.”

His expression gave nothing away. It was as if he was on the mound, bases loaded, no outs, the cool blue eyes saying he was in perfect control of the situation. But the tiny muscle jumping in his jaw told her he wasn’t as composed as he appeared. He cocked his head. “The Friday night that I came over…when you were just getting out of the tub.”

“What about it?”

“If I hadn’t stopped by, would you have called and asked me over?” His penetrating gaze demanded nothing less than total honesty.

She wanted to say yes, but that would be a lie. Her emotions had been in turmoil then. She hadn’t known what she wanted.

“Rachel?” he prompted.

“I don’t know,” she said after a long moment. “I’d like to say yes, but I really can’t say for sure.”

“Because of Tom. Because you knew you’d never love anyone like you loved him.” That
had
been what she’d thought at the time, but even then she’d felt a strong pull toward Derek. Most importantly, it wasn’t how she felt now. “Yes, I thought that once, but—”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He whirled and reached for his coat just as Mickie entered the room.

She was still in her flannel pajamas, her face flushed from sleep. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Rossi.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

The girl’s gaze settled on the coat in his hands. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I can’t stay.” He hesitated for a second and his eyes grew soft. “But I brought your presents.”

Tears welled in Mickie’s eyes and her shoulders drooped. But to Rachel’s surprise the girl didn’t argue. It was as if she’d seen this coming. Or maybe she’d just grown resigned to disappointment. “Can I at least give you a hug before you go?”

“Of course.” Derek dropped his coat to the chair before crossing the few feet that separated them. He
pulled the child into his arms and held her close for several heartbeats.

“I’ll be in touch about you coming to Los Angeles,” he whispered against her hair.

“Okay.”

Derek’s gaze narrowed. He pressed his palms against her cheeks. The furrow in his brow deepened. “Mickie, munchkin, you’re hot. Too hot. How do you feel?”

“Sad.” Mickie’s face scrunched and she sniffed loudly.

“Derek, can’t you at least stay until we open gifts?” Not only did Rachel hate to see Mickie disappointed, but she also desperately needed the time. Time to convince him that Tom was her past. Time to convince Derek that he was her future.

He shook his head and gave Fred a final pat on the neck.

Rachel fought the tears pushing against the back of her lids and turned her face. She couldn’t watch him walk out that door knowing it might be the last time she’d see him. She simply couldn’t. Instead she focused on Mickie and forced a bright tone. “Shall we eat or open gifts first?”

“I don’t feel so good.”

Rachel felt, rather than saw, Derek pause at the door.

For the first time since Mickie had entered the room, Rachel studied the child. Not with the eyes of a foster parent, but the eyes of a mother. Her cheeks were bright red while her skin was unusually pale. Fever dulled her normally bright eyes. Mickie wasn’t tired, like Rachel had thought. She was
sick.

What kind of nurse was she? Worse yet, what kind of mother didn’t notice her child was ill?

Rachel crouched down. She placed her hand on the girl’s forehead, then dropped it to her arm when Mickie began to sway. “Honey, you’re burning up. We need to get you to bed. Can you walk? Or do you want to lie down out here?”

“I don’t feel so good,” Mickie repeated, her voice shaky.

“I’ll carry her to the bedroom.” Derek crossed the room in several long strides.

Rachel stepped to the side just in time for Mickie to throw up…all over Derek.

Derek hopped out of the shower, dried off, then tightened the belt to Rachel’s fuzzy pink bathrobe around him.

After getting Mickie settled in bed, Rachel had confiscated his clothes and put them into the washing machine. He’d almost insisted on driving home to clean up, but the smell of vomit all over his shirt and jeans made him queasy.

He’d stood in the shower for a long time, washing the smell away and doing some hard thinking. Last night, after learning that Mickie had been the one reaching out to him, he’d found himself wanting to confront Rachel so he could get the reassurance he craved. The realization that it could end up ruining the evening for all of them had kept him silent. Still, he’d ended up cutting the night short when temptation threatened his resolve.

Now he had his answer. But it made no sense to be upset with Rachel. The fact that he’d fallen in love with
her was
his
problem, not hers. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. Or a husband.

Friends with benefits. He snorted. What a stupid label. And completely inaccurate. On his part anyway.

Of course she’d want to stay for her husband’s memorial. Of course. Tom might be dead, but he was still the most important person in her life. Derek had been foolish to hope otherwise.

He glanced down at the fuzzy robe. When Rachel looked back on their time together, if she looked back, this would be how she’d picture him.

His lips twisted in a wry smile. Great. Just great.

But what was his choice. Hide out in the bedroom until his clothes were dry? Derek rejected that option immediately. He might be down but he wasn’t out. And Mickie, he had to check on Mickie. He gave a tug on the belt to make sure it was secure and headed for the kitchen.

Rachel was standing by the counter when he strutted into the room looking like a peacock who’d overdosed on Pepto-Bismol.

He held up a hand when her lips twitched. “No jokes, please.”

“But you look so pretty in pink.” Even though she smiled, her eyes remained wary. Gracious to the end. Love for her rose up from the deepest recesses of his heart and spilled over. “How’s Mickie?”

“She’s been cleaned up, had a dose of Tylenol and is now asleep,” Rachel said.

“What do you think is wrong? Stomach flu? Food poisoning? Has her fever dropped?”

“Stomach virus,” Rachel said. “You don’t get a fever
with food poisoning. And yes, thankfully, her temp is going down.”

“She’s lucky to have you.” Derek wondered how he’d do, being both mother and father to Mickie. Better than a group home, he told himself. Better than someone like her aunt and uncle.

“It’ll be another thirty minutes until your clothes are dry.” Rachel gestured to the casserole she’d just pulled out of the oven. “I’m not sure if I should mention food after what you’ve just gone through but…would you like some breakfast? Or at least coffee?”

Though her words were conversational and pleasant, an underlying tension filled the room.

My fault,
he reminded himself.
Not hers.

“Actually I am hungry,” he said.

A relieved smile was his reward. She dished up the food while he poured the coffee.

But once at the table, awkwardness settled over them like a shroud. They ate in silence. Finally Derek had had enough. He had some apologizing to do. And there was no reason to put it off any longer. He placed his napkin on the table and pushed his plate aside. “We need to talk.”

“I agree.” Her voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact. But when her napkin joined his on the table, he noticed her fingers were trembling.

Her very bare fingers. Where was Tom’s ring?

Derek’s heart rose to his throat. He pushed back his chair and stood. “I know you’re probably upset with me after how I acted, but can we start with a hug?”

“I’ll always take a hug from you.”

When she came into his arms, he pretended not to
notice the tears in her eyes. She was warm and soft and the intoxicating scent of vanilla was oh so familiar. He pulled her close and his own eyes filled with moisture.

How can I let her go?

He tightened his hold around her.

“I wish we didn’t have to sit down.” She laid her head against his chest. “I wish we could stand here like this and talk.”

“We’re making the rules.” Derek swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Nothing says we can’t.”

Nothing except he was finding it incredibly hard to keep his emotions under control. He felt raw, vulnerable. He had to apologize. Before he found his voice, Rachel began to talk.

“For seven years I loved Tom with my whole heart. Only Tom. I never thought that I could love anyone that much again.” She cleared her throat. “Then I met you.”

Derek’s heart stopped for a second before resuming an unsteady rhythm.

“I convinced myself that you and I were just friends.” Her voice grew stronger with each word. “But I can’t lie to myself any longer. I love you, Derek.”

Some of the tightness left his shoulders at the declaration. But how much? That was still the question….

“My love for you is different than my love for Tom had been, more mature. Deeper on so many levels.” She hesitated, then met his gaze. “I truly believe you are my soul mate.”

Derek had pitched a no-hitter against the Yankees. At the time he’d been convinced that nothing could top
the high he’d experienced when that game ended. He’d been wrong. This moment defied all description.

She swallowed hard. “I’ll go with you to Los Angeles.”