Page 50 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

Huh?

It was Travis’s turn to frown. Wasn’t that sentiment way too mature for a kid of eight? But he could see from the brave acceptance in her gaze she had come to terms with her loss a long time ago. Then again...

‘So, what’s the deal with the tree, then?’ he asked. Even curiouser now. Surely it had to be something to do with her childhood, because he’d sensed her lack of sentimentality about the season right from the start.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said. But then she shrugged and stared down at her plate, to toy with the last bite of her grilled cheese. ‘It’s silly, really.’

And then he knew it wasn’t nothing—because she wasn’t meeting his eye, and he knew that was the tactic she used when she couldn’t hide her emotions behind the shield of manners.

‘Is it nothing, or is it silly? Because it can’t be both,’ he asked gently, curious now not just about the woman, but also the little girl. Had she covered her grief then too, behind a shield of polite conformity? And duty.

The thought made him sad for her. And angry.

Shouldn’t every kid be allowed to act out, especially at a time like that? She would have been thrust into the public eye even more after her parents’ death. The pressure to be perfect would have been a massive burden. Had they ever even given her a chance to grieve? And how could she not have buckled under the strain?

Her gaze met his at last. ‘Honestly, it’s very silly and also quite self-indulgent. I’m embarrassed to talk about it.’

‘Try me,’ he said, beginning to wonder if she had always thought her feelings, her needs, were less important than her duty to the Androvian throne.

Because it was certainly starting to look that way.

Why else would she have suggested marrying a total stranger? When she’d never even had a proper relationship before now. Never even dated.

Did she have any idea how damn vulnerable she was? Especially to a guy like him.

A man who had spent his whole life taking what he wanted, when he wanted it, without a thought to how it might impact anyone else. Not even his own mom. While she’d subjugated her own desires to assume the burden of a whole country’s expectations when she was only eight. He’d always been proud of how single-minded he was, how he’d always kept his eyes on the prize, his take-no-prisoners approach to everything from his business to his love life. But his drive and ambition were starting to look kind of selfish now, compared with her loyalty and dedication to her subjects and her country and her parents’ legacy.

She gave an impatient huff. ‘Okay, but you must promise you won’t laugh, or think less of me,’ she said.

‘Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,’ he said. But when she sent him a sceptical look, he crossed his little finger over his heart and kissed the tip. ‘Pinkie swear.’

Her gaze strayed back to the decorated tree across the room. ‘Seeing Christmas trees, all lit up like that...’ She gave a wistful sigh. ‘They’re so festive and bright, but they make me feel so lonely. Which is ridiculous, of course.’

Why was it ridiculous? ‘Do you know the reason why they make you feel that way?’

‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation. ‘The reason is even sillier actually. And also very selfish... I used to get terribly upset when I was a child that my parents couldn’t be with me on Christmas Day.’

‘That’s not dumb at all,’ he said, vehemently defending feelings she seemed unable to defend herself. ‘Of course you missed them. I still miss my mom on Christmas Day and she’s been gone for over a decade.’

She turned to him, her cheeks reddening. ‘You misunderstand. This was before they died. Christmas was very important to them as a couple. They loved each other very much and they got so little time to spend together, because they had such busy schedules. My father explained to me the three days over Christmas were very precious—and the only time they could spend together just the two of them—which was why they left me at the palace with the staff on Christmas Eve. But I always cried anyway. He would get annoyed with me, making such an unnecessary scene. And now that’s one of the few memories I have left of him—which is awful really.’

‘You’re not serious?’ he murmured, his voice tight with shock—and anger for that kid who had been gaslighted by her own dad. ‘Who the hell leaves their only kid home alone at Christmas, so he can go off on a three-day booty call with his wife?’

Her eyebrows launched up her forehead, her cheeks darkening, but at least he’d shocked the guilt right out of her eyes.

‘You don’t understand,’ she said, the misplaced loyalty making him hate her father even more. ‘That’s not how it was at all.’

‘The hell it isn’t,’ he said. Because he understood just fine. Not only had her old man left that dumb instruction in his will that had forced her to marry, but he hadn’t even stuck around for Christmas when she was a kid, and he’d taken her mom off with him. Leaving his daughter with nobody but people who were paid to be there. ‘Your father sounds like an even bigger jerk than mine, and that’s saying something.’

‘But you’re wrong,’ she said, although she didn’t sound quite as sure any more. ‘Obviously, he loved me very much,’ she added. ‘And after their death Mel and her mother came into my life and that helped immeasurably. We became such good friends, even though we are quite different. Of course, they couldn’t spend Christmas with me either,’ she added, in that matter-of-fact tone that didn’t dim the sadness in her eyes. ‘Because it was the only time Mel’s mother could take her to visit their family in London. Maybe that is also why Christmas still makes me feel lonely, which is doubly selfish of me.’

‘That’s garbage, Belle,’ he said, getting more annoyed by the second. ‘Maybe Mel and her mom couldn’t stay with you. But your father could have, and so could your mom. What you’re describing isn’t love, it’s neglect. If you love someone, you spend time with them—you make memories that matter with them. My mom worked three jobs, but she never missed a single competition I was in. And we always spent Christmas Day together. Just the two of us.’

The anger twisted in his gut, becoming sour and bitter as it turned inward. And he recalled his mom’s email to him that last Christmas—every word of which he still remembered with crystal clarity.

Travis, honey, will you be able to make it back for the twenty-fifth? I’d love to see you if you can. But don’t sweat it if you can’t. I’ve put the enormous spruce you sent me and all the presents in pride of place in my new lounge. I intend to decorate the tree tomorrow, now I’m finally over the chemo. Knock ’em dead on the half-pipe, that title is already yours.

Love Mom x

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