His-And-Hers Family by Helen Lacey

Author:Helen Lacey [Helen Lacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460300725
Publisher: Mills Boon
Published: 2012-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Family.

That’s what this feels like.

A mother, a father, a cheerful teenager plonked between them downing popcorn and laughing at a silly movie. Fiona knew it was a fantasy. But in that moment, it was real. And it was hers.

Wyatt’s touch was mesmerizing. His hand stayed at her shoulder for a while, and he drew tiny circles with his thumb. She knew she shouldn’t allow it. But it seemed right, somehow. When she moved to take her drink off the table, he pulled back.

Once the movie was over, Cecily insisted on opening a gift. Just one, she said, to tide them over until the following day. Her daughter’s insistence that they follow the traditional Christmas protocol made her smile. Fiona sat on the love seat and summoned the heart to enjoy the celebration. Wyatt took a spot on an old chair next to the tree, and her daughter dropped onto the floor. Cecily opened one of the gifts Fiona gave her—a silver pendant in the shape of a dazzling unicorn. She adored it, thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“It’s one of a kind,” Fiona explained. “My friend Mary-Jayne is a silversmith.”

“A talented lady,” Wyatt said and admired the piece.

“She’s Evie’s little sister. I’ll get her to craft a pair of matching earrings,” she told Cecily. “For your birthday.”

Cecily groaned. “But that’s ages away.”

Fiona looked at Wyatt. “I know the date,” she said and quickly changed the subject. “So, who’s next?”

Cecily grabbed a gift from beneath the tree and tossed it toward her uncle. He squeezed the package. “Socks?”

Cecily laughed. “Nope. Fiona said they were off the list this year.”

He mouthed a silent thank-you and tore open the gift. Not socks but a soft blue T-shirt she knew would look great on him.

“Now you,” Cecily insisted and dragged the square package that was leaning against the wall.

Fiona rested the gift against her knees. They were both watching her—the child she loved and the man she had fallen hopelessly in love with.

The gift was from Wyatt, and as she pulled off the paper and realized what he’d given her, Fiona’s eyes welled with tears. The portrait of Cecily was an exact likeness, framed in polished oak. “Oh...it’s so...” She looked at Wyatt. “It’s perfect. How did you—”

“Ellen,” he explained. “My sister is the artist. She did this piece a few months back. I thought you might like it.”

“I love it,” she said quickly. I love you. “Thank you. It’s more than I ever expected.”

“Gosh, I look like you,” Cecily said as she came behind Fiona and peered at the portrait. “Don’t I, Uncle Wyatt?”

He kept his gaze locked with hers. “Yes. Double trouble.”

Cecily laughed. It was such a heart-wrenching moment, and Fiona wanted to bottle up the memories. For another day, another time, when she was alone again.

“Who’s up for supper?” she asked and blinked at the tears in her eyes.

“Not me,” Cecily groaned out as she patted her full tummy. “Too much punch and popcorn. I think I’m going to crash for a while in the spare room.

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