A Husband For The Holidays. Ami Weaver

strode out into the cold, thoughts whirling. He thought he’d been prepared for the shock, but he’d been wrong. Way wrong. Seeing her wasn’t easier after all these years.

      Especially when she looked so damn appealing.

      But it’d been the look in her big brown eyes that killed him—wary, hopeful, sad all mixed together. Regretful.

      Regrets. He had a few of those himself.

      The still falling snow swirled around him as he approached Joe, who was readying to bale and load cut trees into a truck for delivery at a local store. Joe looked distinctly guilty as he approached.

      “You saw Darcy?”

      Mack gave a curt nod. “Yeah.”

      Joe’s look was assessing and it made Mack uncomfortable. He didn’t want the older man to see how rattled he was. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about Darcy. We were afraid you’d quit or that she wouldn’t come. We didn’t want either to happen.”

      Mack shook his head. He wouldn’t have quit. And he wouldn’t have discussed Darcy with her uncle anyway—it would be disloyal and he’d never ask Joe to do that. “It’s all right. So where are these going?” He pulled a fresh-cut spruce off the trailer.

      “Tom’s. Said delivery would be first thing tomorrow.” With that, Joe turned the equipment on.

      It suited him.

      It didn’t take nearly long enough to load the truck with the trees and wreaths the grocery store owner had ordered. By the time he’d completed several other tasks and he ducked back into the barn, he didn’t see Darcy.

      The stab he felt wasn’t disappointment. It couldn’t be. He’d been there, done that.

      He wasn’t able to fool himself.

      With a sigh, he trudged toward his truck through a good four inches of snow. Joe’s voice stopped him.

      “Are you going to talk to Darcy?”

      Mack turned around. “About what?”

      “About what happened.”

      Anger surged through him, but he forced it down. “There’s nothing left to say. It’s been a long time, Joe. A long time,” he repeated, even though seeing her made it all feel like yesterday. He wanted to forget, to keep it buried. She hadn’t wanted them, their family. What good was it to rehash the whole thing now?

      “Maybe so. But you two have unfinished business. Talk to her.” When Mack opened his mouth, Joe held up a hand. “I’m not going to say any more on this. You’re adults. Thanks for the help tonight. We’ll be back at it after dinner tomorrow.”

      Mack said good-night and swiped the fluffy snow off his windshield. He stood there for a second and watched Joe walk up the lane that led to the house. With a sigh he climbed in and started the engine. As he drove back out to the road, exhaustion washed over him. No doubt there’d be no sleep for him tonight. Or he’d dream of Darcy all night. Frankly, he’d prefer no sleep.

      He turned in the driveway of his little house, the one he’d bought and restored after Darcy left. He’d needed an outlet for his grief, and this house had provided it. He came in through the front door, and was greeted by enthusiastic barking. Sadie and Lilly came barreling out of the living room and threw themselves at him, barking as if they’d thought he wouldn’t be back. He rubbed ears as he waded through them and headed for the kitchen.

      “You guys want out?” They zipped to the door and he let them out in the snow in the fenced-in backyard. His phone rang before he even got his coat off. A glance at the caller ID had him bracing himself.

      “Hi, Mom.”

      “Mack. How are you?” There was concern in his mother’s voice.

      “Fine.” And because he was feeling a little contrary with how his family assumed he wasn’t, he added, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

      His mother sighed. “I don’t know. Because Darcy is home. And you help out at the tree farm. Did you see her?”

      Mack shrugged out of his jacket. “I did.” There wasn’t anything else to say—at least not to his mom.

      “How did it go?” Her voice was gentle.

      “I don’t know. Fine.” He raked a hand though his hair, remembering Darcy’s huge, stricken eyes. “Mom. What do you think I’m going to do?”

      She sighed. “I don’t know. I know how torn up you were when she left. How we thought we’d lose you, too. I know you’re an adult, but you’re still my boy. And I don’t want to see you go through that again.”

      Mack turned as he heard a noise at the back door. The dogs were ready to come in. He opened it and they tumbled through in a flurry of wet paws and snow and cold air. “It’s all in the past, Mom.”

      She made a little noise that could have been disbelief. “Okay, then. I won’t keep you. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

      Tomorrow. Thanksgiving. He’d spent one of those with a pregnant Darcy as his wife. Just before—well, before. It was how he divided everything. Before. And After. He shut the images down. “Sounds good.”

      She talked a few more minutes and Mack made all the appropriate noises before hanging up with a promise to be on time.

      He tossed the phone on the counter and sank down at one of the bar stools lining it. He covered his face with his hands and braced his elbows on the counter. Darcy. All those things he’d worked so hard to avoid were staring him in the face.

      He slammed his palms on the surface, and both dogs looked up from their bowls.

      “Sorry, guys,” he said, and they looked at him as if they saw more than he wanted them to. Wanted anyone to, for that matter.

      After a shower, he lay on his bed and turned the TV on, more for distraction than anything else. He flipped through the channels until he found a hockey game he wasn’t going to watch anyway.

      She’d looked shocked when he said he didn’t know why she’d left. How could that be? She’d never told him, she’d just said she wanted a divorce. She’d left in a hurry after that, without so much as a glance back.

      He’d been looking for her ever since.

      * * *

      Thanksgiving passed in a blur of fantastic food and frantic preparations for the season opening of Kramer Tree Farm the next morning. Darcy knew Mack was around, but there were so many other people and so much to be done she had no time to dwell on it.

      But she was always aware he was in the vicinity. Somehow she was very tuned in to him. That wasn’t a good thing.

      She hadn’t slept so well the previous night, dreaming of Mack. Now, fired up on caffeine and nerves, she figured tonight would be a repeat of the last.

      She thought of her quiet condo in Chicago, her refuge from all this emotion and pain. She missed it and the safety it offered—even if it was apparently safety from herself and her memories.

      The chatter of the employees, the Christmas music, all combined to make a festive atmosphere. The fresh six inches of snow added to it. Her aunt and uncle were thrilled. She tied the last sprig of bittersweet to the wreath she’d made as Marla came over.

      “Looks lovely,” she said with a smile. “You haven’t lost your touch.”

      Darcy laughed. “I think I can make these in my sleep. Everything going okay?”

      “Yes, thankfully. We’re pretty much set. Can I get you to take the ATV out to the warming stations and make sure they are ready to go in the morning? Hot chocolate and coffee out there, and both that and mulled cider up here.”

      “Sure.” Darcy left the completed wreath where it was and stripped off her pitch-sticky work gloves. It