Page 60 of Her Christmas Wish
Even if the evening ultimately produced no money, they’d thrown one hell of a party, attracting the attention of respected people, without any snoops getting wind of it. Might be just for the one event, but he felt as though he was alive again. In the world he’d spent so many years building.
He’d gotten some of his confidence back.
And he had her to thank for that.
The wine calmed some of the adrenaline coursing through Sage after the great evening. It relaxed a bit of the excitement generated from signs of early success based on attendee comments and reactions, and Sage hadn’t felt so personally successful in a long while.
Surprised by that, she took the second while Gray was in the restroom to check herself on the thought. Ran through a mental checklist of professional landmarks, happy clients, awards...but couldn’t find a single standout. Nothing that made her feel even half as alive as that night had done.
No, it was thoughts of Leigh that did that. The little girl’s happiness, her development. The odds they’d helped her beat together. Those were her highs.
But...she was more than a mother. Leigh was growing up fast already. Asserting her independence in all kinds of ways. And if Sage’s whole world was just her child, it wouldn’t be good for Leigh. Would it?
Shaking her head as she saw Gray coming back toward her, Sage determined not to ruin the night with her usual ruminations. There’d be time later, when she was herself and not coming off a high with a glass of wine added in, to assess her future success as a mother. And a person.
“You looked like you were having deep thoughts,” he said as he slid back in across from her. His gaze held hers, filled with interest. And...warmth.
She shook her head. Nodded when the waiter passed by and asked if she’d like another glass of wine. She had the whole night to herself. Didn’t need to worry about being responsible for anyone else. And looked back to see Gray still watching her.
Like maybe he was seeing her for the first time. And she wondered, if they’d met in their current lives, if things would have been any different for them.
And had a flash of the story he’d recently told her about growing up. His lack of attachment to things. Wondering what else he might not have shared.
Thinking of her strong desire to be a mother—the elephant that was always in the room between them—a desire partially born from her closeness to her own female parent, she asked, “Did you ever know your father?”
Even as the words slipped out, she braced for his pullback. The way he had of straightening his shoulders, his head rigidly held on top of them...and hadn’t realized until that second that that had been his tell.
And the thing that had stopped her from ever pressing for more. He’d stiffen, pull back and...
But he wasn’t stiffening. “I never even knew for sure who he was,” he told her, slowly moving his stir stick around the full glass of scotch that had just been delivered. “My mother was in high school when she got pregnant with me. All I ever knew was that no one but Grandma stood by her. Mom had a hard time with it all. Working at the restaurant. Raising me. By the time I was old enough to demand answers about my father, she was gone, and Grandma swore she didn’t know.” While Sage’s heart broke, digesting things she’d never guessed, Gray paused, and then said, “I sometimes thought it was a blessing when my mother was killed in the car accident when I was ten. She always seemed so tired...”
Holding back tears, Sage stayed front and center with Gray. Right there, in that moment, she knew real closure. And a strange kind of opening, too.
Not only had he never known his father, he’d also watched others suffer for his father having deserted them. Maybe not the reason Gray didn’t want to be a father. But the fact that he’d never witnessed, firsthand, what being a father was all about—good or bad—brought clarity to something she’d never been able to understand.
Gray’s leaving her—hadn’t been about her.
He’d said that, of course, but everyone usually did in a breakup situation. Or at least did commonly enough that it was understood that it didn’t mean anything.
In his case...maybe it had.
And while it didn’t change their past, or their future, didn’t change the people they were—a man and a woman with very different needs—knowing still made a difference.
Sage’s eyes brimmed with warmth, but no pity, as Gray finished talking. Normalizing what could have quickly turned into a derailing of all they’d been working to build.
“I was super close to my mom,” she told him. “She was lovely, and kind. Always busy doing something for someone. And involving me in it somehow. Teaching me how to live a good, happy, giving life without my even knowing it was happening.” Her gaze took on a faraway look, leaving Gray more alone than he’d been, and wishing he could travel to that place. That he’d known her mother.
And then she was back. Looking him straight in the eye, as though calling him to attention. She’d had his attention from the moment she’d stepped back into his life again.
“I was just starting puberty when she died...” Her voice trailed off. Before he could find any kind of right words, she started up again. “Dad expected me to pick up the reins, and I could. I knew what to do, in some of her volunteer work, and, of course, at home. It’s like I became my own mother. And there was comfort in that...”
The parental relationship she was describing, the mothering...he knew exactly what she was talking about. Recognized it. From her dealings with Leigh. And he settled inside.
Leaning a bit forward, she continued, “It’s like I was keeping the best part of my life, Mom’s warmth, her love, alive, right there, every day...”
Sage blinked. Gave her head a brief shake.
And then with a frown said, “What am I doing? I’m so sorry, Gray. I didn’t mean...”
