Page 21 of Silent Night Temptation

His voice catches for a moment, and I feel my heart ache for him. I can hear the love in his voice, the love for a woman who’s no longer here. It stirs something empathetic within me, a kind of kinship that connects our shared loss.

“When she died,” he continues, quieter now, “I couldn’t move on. I was angry. Broken. I felt cheated…by the world, by life... by everything. For her, for me... for Coco. I shut down. I didn’t think I could care about anyone like that again. It just hurt too much.”

He exhales, the cold air turning his breath to mist. “But it got better. I got better. Slowly. I think it’s what Ellie would’ve wanted. And now... now Christmas isn’t so bad. It reminds me of the good times, the happy moments we had. And Coco... she’s a lot like her mom. She brings some of that magic back.”

He turns to me then, his eyes locking onto mine, soft yet full of meaning. “I’m sorry about your father, Nyree. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. But I think... I think he’d want you to be happy. I think he’d want you to find joy again, even if it’s hard.”

His words hit me like a gentle wave washing over me and sinking deep into my heart. And as he steps back, resuming his task of shoveling the snow, I stare at him, overwhelmed by a feeling I hadn’t expected. His kindness, his understanding, his quiet strength. It all adds another layer to him.

This isn’t just about the physical pull I feel toward him. It’s the chemistry that’s crackled between us since the moment we set eyes on each other. No, this is something more. Something deeper. My heart yearns for him, craves his presence in a way that goes beyond desire. It’s a need to be close to him, to share more moments like this one. Moments of raw honesty, vulnerability, and connection.

But even as I feel my heart falling for him, I know that the path ahead is tangled and fraught with complications. Coco. My best friend. His daughter.

How do I explain this to her? How do I tell her that I’m falling for her father? How can I make her understand when I can’t even make sense of it myself?

***

Marcus

The storm has passed, leaving behind a stillness in the air that feels like a breath held too long, finally exhaled. The wind no longer howls against the windows, but moves with a gentler touch. The sun, however, once obscured, now shines faintly through the scattered clouds. The world feels refreshed, lighter, as though the elements themselves are in harmony with the quiet warmth that stirs within me.

We stand side by side, and my thoughts inevitably wander back to the previous night. The memory plays out in vivid detail; how her body felt beneath my hands, soft and yielding, and the way she moved, responding to every touch. A simple recollection of her arched back, the way she surrendered to me, ignites a familiar flame. For a brief second, I struggle to maintain focus. The physical closeness almost spikes that raw need for her again.

Yet, as I glance at her now, bundled in her winter coat, it isn’t lust that lingers in my chest, but something far deeper. The conversation we shared and the vulnerability in her voice asshe spoke of her father, still resonates with me. I recognize the trust she placed in me, opening a door to her past that few have likely seen. It strikes me then that I, too, allowed myself to be vulnerable, to speak of my late wife… Coco’s mother. Somewhere between the raw intimacy and the tender conversations, I’ve realized I’m falling for her. Not just in desire, but in a way that roots itself quietly in my heart, deeper and more enduring than I expected.

With a final heave, I clear away the last patches of snow, letting out a sigh of contentment as I admire the pristine path we’ve carved. The simple task has left a pleasing ache in my muscles. It’s a small but satisfying exertion, made all the better by having done it with Nyree by my side.

I stride over to her, offering my hand for the shovel, and she passes it to me with a bright smile. There's something infectious in the warmth of her expression.

“That felt... oddly satisfying,” she says, her breath misting in the cold air.

“Yeah, it did,” I reply, echoing the sentiment as a new idea sparks in my mind, a smidgen of anticipation building. It’s a quiet, crisp afternoon. Perfect, in fact, for something more.

I look at her, already feeling a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. "Hey, I know something else we can do before Coco gets here."

Her curiosity is immediate, her lips curving upward as she meets my gaze. “Oh? And what might that be?” There's a playful glint in her eyes, as if she's already intrigued by whatever I’m about to suggest.

“Christmas dinner,” I say, the excitement unmistakable in my voice. "I've got everything ready in the kitchen. We could get it all prepped before Coco arrives; a big, nice holiday meal together.”

Nyree’s eyes brighten as she contemplates the idea. I can almost see the thoughts flitting across her mind, weighing the pleasant effort of it all. After a moment, she smiles with that same playful energy.

“Sure,” she says, her voice light with enthusiasm. “But there’s just one little thing.”

I arch an eyebrow, already amused by her tone. “What’s that?”

She leans in slightly, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Last one to the kitchen washes the dishes after,” she announces with a burst of excitement. Before I can even process it, she lets out a joyful laugh and takes off, sprinting through the freshly cleared path toward the front door.

I just stand there, watching her run with an infectious joy that fills the crisp air. The way she moves, so full of life and freedom, ignites something warm and steady within me. It’s as if, in that moment, everything feels lighter, more vivid.

“Hey… wait up!” I call, grinning as I break into a run after her, the sound of her laughter leading me forward.

We reach the kitchen, breathless from the playful race, and the next few hours unfold like a blissful dream. It’s as if time itself slows, allowing the moments to linger. We move easily around each other; no longer strangers sharing a space, but partners in a joyful, unspoken rhythm. There’s laughter as we take turns mixing batter for the pie. As we stuff the turkey together, I feel a quiet sense of connection, our hands brushing briefly before sliding it into the oven. It’s a world away from the tentative, awkward moments we shared here just the day before. Now, it feels as if we’ve known each other for years. The barriers between us gently dissolving into the warmth of the kitchen.

Our conversation flows as effortlessly as we work. With each word, I feel as though I’m uncovering more of her, a glimpse into the quiet corners of her life… her likes, thoughts, and her small joys. She speaks, and I find myself drawn in deeper withevery little detail. The way her eyes light up when she mentions her favorite book, the soft laugh that escapes when she recalls a childhood memory. I listen, captivated. I realize how much I’ve come to care about those small revelations, how much I’ve come to care about her.

The kitchen fills with the rich, comforting aromas of everything we’ve prepared. The sweet scent of pie mingles with the savory notes of turkey and spice. Hours slip by, marked only by the shifting light outside and the deepening sense of contentment inside.

Now, as I stand at the sink, washing the last of the pots and pans, I glance over at Nyree. She’s perched on the counter, legs crossed, sipping a glass of wine. Her expression is serene. There’s a peace in her that feels contagious, and she smiles at me with a quiet satisfaction. She’s earned her rest. After all, she did beat me to the kitchen in our race earlier, and now she’s enjoying the reward.

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