Page 59 of Gotta Have Mistletoe
Glen flinches, but I remember Glen hates flying.
“Okay.” Glen goes to the door, then turns to look at me. “You know, your population loves you. They only want you to be happy. I hope you can be.”
GLEN
The music is stronger in the hallway, and I march toward my room. My eyes blur, and the glittering flames on dozens of candles blur. A footman appears, and I nod, but I quicken my pace in case he wants to offer me a sympathetic smile or something.
How could I do this? How could I fall for a king? I know better than that. This was always supposed to be seven days of make-believe. Well, I got six. I’ll be on a flight on December 25thnow, not December 26th.
It’s all fine. I’m a cowboy contractor. I’m not supposed to escort a king around a ballroom. Cowboys don’t date royalty.
I push open the door to my bedroom, then reach for my cufflinks. I remove them carefully, even though I want to yank them off and throw them against the wall.
I pack my clothes. The holiday is over. How could I have believed the lie?
Erik didn’t say goodbye. He was silent and still, like the statues of his ancestors in the Painting Gallery.
“Dad?” Max knocks on the door, and I run forward and swoop him into my arms.
I hug him tightly to my chest, and this time, tears burn my eyes. Am I turning into a sap in my middle age?
I give an awkward laugh.
“Is everything okay?” Max asks.
“Yup.” I put him down. His eyes turn to the suitcase on the chair. “What are you doing?”
“I’m packing.”
“The ball is still happening.”
“Reckon it is.”
He stares at me. “Why aren’t you there?”
I sigh, then glue on a cheerful smile. It’s a bit wobbly, but how can I tell Max that I allowed myself to feel things I’ve never felt for another man except his Papa? That I’d forgotten that my memories of life with Dean were enough? That I’d hoped for more?
“Because I got to pack,” I say. “We got an earlier flight to Nevada! We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Oh.” He blinks up at me.
“You better pack too,” I tell him.
He’s silent, then he gives me a curt nod. “Okay, Dad.” He chews on his bottom lip. “I’m going to miss it here.”
I want to tell him he doesn’t need to miss Solberg, that Nevada is far superior, and yes, Nevada definitely has its strong points. But I know this is about missing Anders and Erik.
“Sometimes life is sad,” I say. “I’ll miss it too.” My voice cracks when I say the last word.
Max’s eyes widen.
“Give me a hug,” I say. “Then you go off to pack.”
Max pulls me in tightly, then leaves.
When tears burn my eyes, I shake my head. “Idiot.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
