“God, Mindy, I’m so sorry.” Jane pressed her trembling fingers over her mouth. “See? I’m even rude to you, my own flesh and blood. Maybe I should spend Christmas completely alone. It’s what I deserve.”
“No, you definitely don’t have to spend this holiday alone. I think you need us more than ever.” Mindy went to her and enveloped her in a hug. “See? If I can forgive you for that callous remark, certainly Chris can forgive you for stomping all over his heart.”
“Yeah, but you’re my sister. We offend each other constantly.” Jane held onto Mindy tight and closed her eyes. “I’m really sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“You’re forgiven. And unfortunately, you’re not too far off the mark. Marty seems to have forgotten we were together for almost twelve years.” Mindy moved away from her and grabbed a piece of fudge from the plate. “I love fudge.”
“My butt loves your fudge, too.” Jane gave it a light slap. “I swear I’ve gained five pounds with all the goodies you send our way.”
“Good, you need it. I, on the other hand, am turning into a fat pig. New Year’s resolution number one—go on a diet and start exercising.” Mindy made a checkmark in the air.
Jane didn’t believe in New Year’s resolutions—she never followed through with them anyway—but she wasn’t about to rain on her sister’s parade. Instead, she took a small piece of fudge and popped it into her mouth, letting the rich chocolate melt on her tongue.
“I saw Chloe earlier at the store. Said you gave her one of your aprons as an early Christmas present and she loved it,” Mindy said, her voice deceptively casual.
Jane shrugged. “I’ve made a few.” In truth, she’d been sweating over them late into the night, yet pleased with the results. All the women in her family were getting one as a present.
“That’s great, Jane. You should consider opening an Etsy page or offering them to the gift shops to sell,” Mindy suggested. “I remember the ones you used to make. They were amazing. You’re really talented.”
Her sister’s words meant more to her than she could say. And she did need a focus besides cleaning the house and taking care of the kids. Maybe…
The doorbell chimed again, its annoying rendition of “Jingle Bells” clanging away, and Jane brushed her hands together, heading toward the front door.
“Who’s that?” Mindy asked.
“Probably Patrick and Lyssa,” Jane called over her shoulder. She walked by the living room, saw that the kids were congregated once more around the television. Watching yet another Christmas movie, this one involving Disney characters. She absolutely could not wait for December twenty-sixth.
Opening the door, she sing-songed, “Merry Christmas!” as loud as possible to her brother and sister-in-law in greeting.
But it wasn’t Patrick and his wife standing on her doorstep.
It was Christian, so gorgeous it was hard to look at him. She drank him in greedily, her gaze doing a quick sweep. The bandage around his head was gone, though she caught sight of a healing gash across his forehead, and his left wrist was in a cast.
He had something slung over his shoulder—a giant red velvet bag. And such a serious expression on his face, though his eyes glowed with appreciation when they lit upon her.
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Jane.” His husky voice wrapped all around her, making her shiver, and she blinked once, twice.
Yep, he was real. And still standing on her doorstep.
“Christian.” She hesitated. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Gotta wear this cast for a couple of weeks but I’m doing a lot better.” He waved his left hand at her, showing off the plaster.
“I…I’m so glad.” She didn’t know what to do or say next. Beg his forgiveness, throw herself at his feet, and ask for mercy? Send him away?
No. He had come to her, which must mean he wanted to see her. Maybe talk to her. And maybe he’d become consumed with the Christmas spirit. He was, after all, carrying a sack that rivaled Santa’s.
“Can I come in? I’m letting in all the cold air.”
“Oh. Yes.” She opened the door wider and he walked inside, his rich, masculine scent making her nose twitch, her body yearn for his.
Chris turned to face her, watching as she slowly shut the door. “How are you, Jane?”
She decided to be honest. “I’m…not so good.”
His eyes flickered, the golden color darkening to a warm honey, and he pressed his lips together. “Me neither.”
“Christian, I—”