The Irishman's Christmas Gamble
Page 25

Liam’s arms went around her and he pressed her against the solid comfort of his chest. But she couldn’t yield to the temptation. She had to hold herself together as she told him her shameful secrets.
“I tried to get Ma to stand up to him, to keep at least the money she earned for the kids, but she just cried. That’s when I knew it was all on me.” Frankie could still remember the feeling that a heavy wet blanket had fallen over her, shrouding her in dark hopelessness. And helplessness. She’d been twelve at the time with no ability to earn the necessary money.
“Jaysus, Frankie, I had no idea it was that bad at your house. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What could you do? You went short of food too.”
“I would have shared everything I had with you.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you. By the time I’d come to know you, I was earning enough so we always had something to eat, even after Da had taken his cut.”
She felt him pull in a breath. “So you quit school and got the job at Balfour’s to buy food. Not because the teachers had nothing more to teach you, like you always told me.”
She tried to shrug out of his arms but he kept her close. “Now you know what made me run, Liam. I can’t be around Owen. It sends me back to being that child filled with helplessness and rage. I panic.” She tilted her head back to see pity in the softness of his mouth and eyes. She had to kill it. “I never want to be responsible for a child again.”
Instead of backing away, he cradled her head with one gentle hand. “And who could blame you? I find it terrifying myself and I’ve only got the one, not to mention more than enough resources to buy him anything his heart desires. You had to raise seven children on a gofer’s wages and you were just a child yourself. I’ve always thought you were an incredible woman, but this…this makes me feel awe.”
“Don’t you understand?” She slapped her palms against his chest, sensing the implacability of it. “I’m broken, just like my mother.”
“Broken? Don’t be daft. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. All seven of your siblings are alive and well today. I can’t say that about more than a quarter of our former neighbors. You saved your family.” He moved one hand to cover hers where they rested on the fine cotton of his shirt. “You’ve bought your sisters and brothers houses, found them jobs, given them money. They’ve told me how good you’ve been to them.”
“But I’ve never been to visit them. I’ve never invited them to visit me. I don’t know any of their children.” She swallowed, but her voice still came out as a harsh whisper. “And I can’t bear to be around your son.”
“I pushed too hard and fast. Because Christmas was coming and I wanted—” He closed his eyes for a moment, the angles of his face taut with longing. “I wanted the three of us to be together, like a family.” He shook his head. “But that was my dream, not yours. Forgive me. I won’t force it again.”
His understanding brought a burn of tears to her eyes. “You need to be with Owen.”
“Today, I need to be with you. It’s Christmas Eve, Frankie. The night of miracles. We can make ours happen.”
She kept her hands wedged between them as she felt a yearning to believe a miracle was possible. “I don’t doubt your love. Or mine. But we both love a memory. We’ve walked different paths for so many years. We’re not the same people.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. We’ve become the people we plotted and planned and worked our arses off to be. I didn’t love just you. I loved the person you would be.”
All her defenses reared up in a last-ditch effort to keep her in her lonely, safe cocoon. She thought of the moment in Yankee Stadium when she’d seen him as her equal for the first time. “But we’re different together. The dynamic has changed.”
He smiled down at her, the heat of desire turning his eyes an intense sapphire. “And I’m liking it.”
She was lost, overwhelmed by the feel of his body against hers, by the wanting in his eyes, by his answers for every one of her objections. No, she was overwhelmed by the power of the love that had been forged in the despair and stink of the slums, had endured through their single-minded climbs to the top, and had brought them back together now.
One deep fear held her in its grip. “What if I can never stand to be near Owen?”
She saw the pain in his eyes, but also the willingness to accept it for her sake. “Owen won’t be a child forever.” Then he smiled in a way that she felt to the marrow of her bones. “But I believe you can conquer anything you set your mind to, a stór.”
“It’s a big risk.”
“And when did a risk ever stop either one of us? Consider it a Christmas gamble. The chance of a lifetime.”
The warmth of his belief soaked into every dark corner of her soul.
His eyes burned as blue as a blowtorch. “Now I intend to give you a kiss that will wipe out all your doubts. And I came prepared.” He rummaged in his coat pocket and pulled out a single sprig of mistletoe tied with a tiny red bow. “Just in case you needed more persuading.”
Taking the mistletoe from his grasp, she held it high as she slipped her other hand around the back of his neck to pull him down to meet her mouth.
She let all the love she’d fought against so long and so hard roar through her as she kissed him, the Liam of her past, present, and future.
 
 
Epilogue
Ten months later

Frankie walked back into Nathan and Chloe’s wedding reception to find Liam leaning against the wall, waiting for her. He looked so gloriously sexy in his cream-colored linen suit that she wanted to take him back to the jet and strip his clothes right off. But she couldn’t leave the wedding before the bride and groom did. So she contented herself with sliding her arm under his jacket to trace her fingers up his spine while she whispered what she wanted to do when the reception ended.
His blue eyes turned hot as he bent to murmur beside her ear, “You read my mind, a stór.” He held out his hand and twined his fingers with hers as soon as she took it. “Let’s take a walk away from the crowd.”
He led her out a side door into the soft caress of the autumn air in North Carolina.