Page 20 of Silent Night Temptation

But then I look at Marcus, at the way he’s looking at me, steady and sure, and something glows inside me. A spark, small but undeniable, in the pit of my stomach. It’s faint at first, almost easy to ignore, but the longer I sit here with him, that spark grows.

It’s the best Christmas I could have hoped for, certainly the best one I’ve had in years. There’s no grand celebration, no gathering of loved ones or piles of presents waiting to be opened. There’s just this moment, this man.

And despite the complications, the tangled web of wrongness that surrounds us, and that everything about this should feel like a mistake… it doesn’t. Not right now.

Because that spark… is because of him. Because of Marcus.

I take a bite, even though my stomach feels too knotted to really eat. Marcus sits across from me, and for a few minutes, we eat in silence. The conflict of emotions and thoughts within me makes me nervous, I feel a restlessness creeping up on me, prompting me to speak.

“I’m sorry,” I say suddenly, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

Marcus looks up, his brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For all of this. For… complicating things.”

He sets his fork down and leans back in his chair, studying me for a moment. “Nyree, this isn’t just on you. We both made a choice last night. It’s complicated, sure, but it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

His words settle into my chest. But I still can’t shake the feeling that I’ve crossed a line.

Marcus reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. “You don’t have to handle this alone. I’m here, okay?”

Squeezing his hand back, I nod in gratitude for his steady presence, even as my heart continues to feel tightly constricted.

After we finish breakfast, Marcus looks toward the window. The snow outside has stopped falling, but there are still towering drifts blocking the driveway.

“I should probably go shovel the snow,” he says, pushing back from the table.

“I’ll help,” I offer, standing up.

I need to keep my hands busy, my mind occupied with something other than the war between the conflicting emotions of the undeniable pull I feel for Marcus and the guilt of feeling like I have betrayed Coco.

Marcus looks like he’s about to argue, but he doesn’t. He just gives me a small nod, and together we bundle up in coats and scarves, ready to face the cold outside.

The chill hits me as soon as we step out the door, the icy wind biting at my cheeks and making me shiver. Marcus hands me a shovel, and for the next hour, we work side by side, clearing the driveway.

As we work, I can’t help but feel a deeper connection to Marcus. It’s not just his chiseled features or his effortless confidence that draws me in. It’s the way he cares, the way he shows up, not just for me, but for Coco. His love for her radiates in everything he does, even in the way he clears the driveway without a word of complaint.

There’s a comfort in his presence, a warmth that makes me feel safe. It’s the kind of ease that allows me to open up, to speak on things I usually keep locked away in the corners of my heart, even from those closest to me. I’ve kept my grief and my pain buried for so long, especially around the holidays. But now, here with Marcus, in this quiet moment as the snow falls softly around us, I feel the walls I’ve built up come down.

“So... a while ago, you asked why I don’t like Christmas,” I say, my voice tentative, almost lost in the cold air. Marcus stops shoveling and turns to me, his brow furrowing slightly as heprocesses my words. For a moment, I wonder if I should have kept quiet, if I should have kept my guard up, but his face softens. He nods slowly, sensing that I’m ready to share what I couldn’t before.

“Yeah, I did,” he replies, his voice low and gentle, giving me the space to decide if I truly want to continue.

I take a deep breath, the chill of the winter air filling my lungs as I gather the courage to speak. The memories come flooding back, sharp and overwhelming, but I push through before the familiar ache can swallow me whole.

“I lost my father during Christmas when I was really young...” I say, the words tumbling out like a confession. I pause, feeling the weight of them as they hang in the air between us. “It was... it was traumatic. He was such a sweet man, and it happened so suddenly. Every time the holidays come around, I can’t help but remember how much he loved them. He used to get so excited, like a child… decorating the tree, hanging lights, singing carols...”

I trail off, the knot of grief tightening in my chest as the memories flood my mind. “And now, I don’t know... I just feel guilty. Guilty for enjoying it without him. It’s like I’m betraying his memory somehow. I miss him.”

The last part comes out as a whisper, barely audible, but it carries the weight of years of unresolved sorrow. My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I feel like I might crumble under the weight of it all.

Then, without a word, Marcus steps closer. His arm slips around me, and I don’t resist. I let myself lean into him, letting his warmth seep into me, grounding me, giving me something solid to hold on to.

For what feels like an eternity, we just stand there in silence, letting the quiet stretch between us, letting it say the things we can’t. And then, finally, Marcus speaks.

“I never used to get Christmas,” he begins, his voice rougher now, tinged with something heavier, something personal. “It was just another holiday to me, nothing special... just another day on the calendar.”

He pauses, his eyes distant, lost in the past. “But then Ellie... my late wife... she loved it. She had this way of making everything magical, you know? Christmas was her favorite time of year. She’d get so excited over the smallest things… the presents, the tree, even mistletoe. It drove me crazy, but it was her. She was...”

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