Page 93 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

I hold it up. “I brought you a gift.”

“Do you want to come in?” he asks.

Yes, I think. Yes, I want to come in and take off my coat and drink tea and talk and sink into your body while we promise never to leave each other.

I want it all from him.

A burst of laughter echoes from inside the house. It’s not just Eira inside. All his friends are probably in there, too. Squealing brakes sound behind me and a white truck parks at the curb.Three people in smart gray uniforms carry covered platters up the steps.

He’s having a party. Or maybe he’s hosting Christmas lunch tomorrow. Whatever he’s doing, his plans don’t include me. “You’ve got a lot of people in there already. Another time, maybe,” I suggest. I want him to offer a specific date. Maybe the day after tomorrow. Or he could call me? But I don’t want to push, because I don’t need Worth to save me. I just want him to love me.

I hang the gift on the door handle and turn to leave. “Merry Christmas Eve, Worth.”

I practically run down the stairs.

I hadn’t dared to hope what might happen when I turned up on his doorstep, but I can’t help feeling the weight of disappointment in every atom of my body.

Being so close to him and not being able to touch him was like torture. It would have been better not to come, because watching the way he moves, seeing his face, almost being able to take in his scent—it’s just made me realize what a complete fool I was for ever thinking I wanted to walk away from him.

I pick up my speed, desperate to get to the corner of his street so I can let go and… miss him.

I scrub my hands over my face and start to run toward the park. I need space. The tears are threatening to fall, and I just need to be far enough away so I don’t crumble where he might see me.

“Sophia!”

I stop and swallow, not daring to turn around.

“Sophia,” Worth says, quieter now that he’s only a few feet away.

I press my gloved hands over my face, willing myself not to cry.Deep breath in, deep breath out.I lower my arms and turn to face him. “Hi.” I’m trying to sound breezy, but I know myvoice sounds like splintered glass. I’m about to fall apart and I don’t want him to witness it because I know he’ll feel bad. That’s the last thing I want.

He looks panicked. “Sophia,” he says again. His voice is ragged and desperate. “Why did you come?”

“I… I… I… To wish you merry Christmas Eve.”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t.” His gaze locks on to mine and I’m helpless. I can’t run from him anymore. I don’t want to.

“I wanted to see you,” I confess.

He nods, encouraging me to say more.

“Who was the woman at the door?” I ask. I have no right to expect Worth to be alone, but that doesn’t stop me hoping.

He frowns and I hold my breath, steeling myself for his reply. “Who? Eira?”

Something in my expression—maybe the jealousy oozing out of my pores—must give me away, because he continues, “The one asking whether you were a graffiti artist was Efa’s sister. She’s over for the holidays. With her husband, Dax. They’re both here. Efa wanted to throw a Christmas Eve dinner at the brownstone.” He takes a step toward me. “Of course there’s no other woman, Sophia.”

Relief washes over me.

“There’ll never be anyone but you for me.”

My eyes flutter shut as I take in his words.

“You never have to concern yourself with that. I’m yours. Forever.”

I swallow past the lump of hope and exhaustion gathered in my throat. “Worth,” I say. I try and blink away the tears in my eyes. “I know you’re not my father. I know I can trust you.”

He groans out a sigh. “Yes,” he says. “Always.”

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