Page 72 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

“That’s a ridiculous statement,” he said, grinning. “Besides…” He lifted his finger and pointed directly up.

I followed the motion with my gaze, heart jumping at the little bundle of mistletoe hanging in the laundry room doorway. “Sean…”

He stepped toward me and wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me close. Then I was pinned to the inside edge of the doorway, the length of my body pressed to the length of his. I let my hands settle on his chest and felt the rioting of his heart beneath his breastbone.

With one hand around my waist, Sean lifted the other to sweep back a sheet of my hair. He stroked my jaw with a calloused palm, his thumb stroking from the corner of my lips to the edge of my cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Lizzie,” he said. “You’ve made this year’s holiday season one of the best of my life.”

My throat was so tight I could barely swallow, and I blinked back moisture from my eyes. “You’ve made me feel like myself again,” I admitted.

“I’m glad we found each other,” he whispered—and he kissed me.

We’d spent entire nights in each other’s arms. We’d kissed countless times now, tenderly and passionately and roughly and everything in between. I’d seen him naked and partially clothed, and I’d explored every inch of his body with my hands and my mouth.

But this felt different. It felt like the ground swelling beneath my feet, like a seismic shift in the very depth of me. This man had crashed into my life, and he kissed me like he wanted to pick up the pieces with me and make something new together.

We weren’t supposed to be kissing here, like this, but the moment got away from me—from both of us. His grip on my jaw tightened as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against mine as he let out a soft moan. I lost myself in the feel of his strong body pressed against mine, the strength of him holding me, the way his hand on my waist stroked me through my shirt like he was wishing he could touch my skin.

My hands skimmed up his shirt and teased the stubble on the sides of his neck as I nibbled his upper lip. I loved the warmth of his skin, the hard press of his muscular frame against my much softer one. I loved the curve of his neck as he bent down to kiss me.

I loved the way he made me feel like I deserved all this and more. In that moment, I realized that I was falling in love with him.

As if he could sense the shift in my emotions, Sean’s grip on me tightened. He deepened the kiss and held me so close all that existed were the points of contact between our bodies. His hands on my face, and my hands on his. His chest against my chest. His legs trapping mine.

I loved him. I loved how he made me feel. I loved how he touched me, how he kissed me, how he made love to me. I loved how he treated my children, and I loved watching him parent his son. I loved how hesawme.

That one kiss under the mistletoe was like pulling the curtains on a darkened room to find a blazingly bright sunny day beyond. Suddenly, I could see every dusty detail of the life I’d been living—and all the ways he could make it better.

I loved him. I was in love with him. Desperately, foolishly, in love.

Then I heard my brother’s voice say, “What the fuck?” and all the heat and magic and love inside me turned to ice.

THIRTY-TWO

SEAN

It tookme a second to realize what had actually happened. I was so consumed by Lizzie, so caught up in the feel of her in my arms, that the sound of her brother’s voice didn’t actually register until she stiffened and pulled away from me.

The feeling of that moment was familiar, but it still caught me by surprise. It was that gut-plunging, rug-pulled-out-from-under-me moment of pure horror that I’d felt when I found out my ex-wife had been unfaithful.

It was the pit in my stomach when I heard my father stumble through the door when I thought this Christmas, finally, would be different.

It was the sound of Christmas music in the hospital lobby moments after my mother had passed.

I turned to see Aaron staring at us with a look of shock and disgust on his face. My arms were still wrapped around his sister and my mind was still on the kiss. The kiss that had made me feel like I was flying. The kiss that made me feel whole for the first time in years.

The kiss I wasn’t supposed to be having with the one woman who was meant to be off-limits.

“Let me say that again,” Aaron said, face going red. “What the fuck?”

“Aaron,” Lizzie answered, voice strangled and breathless.

I cleared my throat and turned to face him. “I?—”

“Don’t tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” Aaron snarled at me, and I deserved it. I deserved his anger. I’d taken his friendship and thrown it back in his face.

If I’d been less of a coward, I would’ve talked to him about this. I would’ve admitted that I was interested in his sister. I would’ve protected the one precious relationship that had lasted through my whole life. The only person who had been there beside me when everything fell apart. The best man at my wedding. My best fucking friend.

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