Page 29 of My eX-MAS Emergency

He could be plenty romantic, but he knew it wasn’t the tactic he should employ. Calista didn’t like being wooed. She loved thoughtful gestures and just being present. “You know, kiddo, I hate to break this to you, but this is probably pointless. She hates me.”

She held up Coco, who had more black in her fur than butterscotch like Poppy, and rubbed her soft fur against her cheek. “I know, but she must secretly love you if she kept your skis all these years.”

He’d told her he’d given Calista those skis. Quinn was positively giddy about it. Tristan held out very little hope Calista was secretly in love with him. Maybe she had been a long time ago, but that ship had sailed—and crashed and burned.

“Quinnster,” he sighed, “I really screwed up.”

“What did you do to her?” she asked, afraid to know.

Tristan didn’t have the heart or the guts to repeat what he’d said that day. “I made her believe she was nothing to me. A mistake, even.”

Quinn scrunched her face, glowering at him.

He never thought Quinn would look at him with such loathing. It felt like a slap against his cheek. “I know, kiddo. Believe me, I know.”

“Why would you do that?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Because I’m an idiot.”

“You better fix it,” she demanded. “You and Aunt Calista are all I’ve got. So don’t screw it up this time!” she shouted.

Tristan blinked, taken aback. He’d never seen Quinn so fiery. She wasn’t crying or sad, but, boy, was she determined.

He scooted closer to her, although it made his back throb. He wanted to tell her she had her mom and even her grandparents, but he couldn’t. Stella was once again not around, doing who knows what, leaving Quinn in his care. Maybe Quinn was right. Tristan and Calista were all she had in the parent department right now. At the very least, they needed to get along to be good “coparents.” “Kiddo, I’ll do my best, but you have to understand that—”

“I know Aunt Calista is stubborn, but maybe if you really tried, she would see you still love her. Don’t be like my dad.” Her voice hitched. “All he could do was tell me how sorry he was he wasn’t a better father and talk about all the things he wished we would have done together. You have to make Aunt Calista know she’s somebody in your life.”

Tristan sat, dazed. His fifteen-year-old niece just owned him. He looked around at all the old photos of his brother on the wall. The last thing he wanted was to end up like Jonathon. Quinn was right. If he wanted any chance of some sort of relationship with Calista, he needed to put her first this time. Calista was going to hate it, but he couldn’t stand the thought of living and dying with such a regret, despite it being a long shot. It was the Hail Mary of all Hail Marys.

“Okay, kid. What do you say to making your aunt dinner tonight?” It was about time he started thinking of others more than himself.

Quinn lit up. “Now you’re talking.”

“How about spaghetti and meatballs?” he suggested.

“That’s her favorite.”

He smiled, remembering how Calista would make spaghetti and insist they recreate the Lady and the Tramp scene, where they shared a noodle between them, ending in a kiss. It made spaghetti his favorite too. She had this way of turning ordinary events like eating dinner into memorable moments. All the cheesy things she liked to do that he thought he would hate—it turned out he loved them too. Much like he loved her.

“We better get to work. She’ll be home soon,” Tristan said.

Quinn nodded. “You can do this. I believe in you.”

Tristan reached over and ruffled her hair, chuckling. “Ouch.” He felt his stitches tug.

Quinn jumped off the couch, cuddling her kittens to her. “You should probably have Aunt Calista check on your cut,” she said deviously.

As much as he loved the thought of that, he knew it was out of the question. He was going to have to approach this situation with extreme caution. That would mean first mustering up the courage to tell Calista the truth—that he’d turned his back on her because he was a coward.

No longer would he be that man. He refused to end up like his brother. From now on, he was going to face the woman he loved, no matter how much she hated it.

CALISTA

I GROANED WHEN I SAW Tristan’s truck in the driveway again. Did the man ever go home? I’d seen enough of him today—too much of him. There should be some law against ex-boyfriends looking so good. Or having to treat them in the ER. His tattoo and his apology were still wigging me out.

I parked my car and leaned my head on the steering wheel. Part of me wanted to leave, but I was exhausted, and it was snowing. My car had barely made it up the drive, slipping and sliding all over the place. I really needed to get a new car, but I hated spending the money, and it wasn’t like I had a lot of free time on my hands to shop for one.

Why couldn’t Tristan stick to the rule? There was only one freaking rule: ignore each other for eternity. The jerk had made me break my solemn vow today. Why apologize now? He’d had thirteen years to do so. Not once had he approached me during all that time. He’d gotten married and moved on. Although, I knew the marriage wasn’t going to last. His ex-wife, Rachel, had train wreck written all over her gorgeous face. At first glance she’d appeared put together, and like another perfect little protégée for Cordelia, like my sister. But underneath brewed a conniving gold digger. I only had to talk to her for five minutes to know that. Evilly, I was glad he’d married her. I knew eventually Rachel would break his heart the way he’d broken mine. And the fact that Quinn hated Rachel told me all I needed to know about the woman. Kids and pets don’t lie when it comes to people.

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