Claire sighed contently. Over the last few days, life with Esperanza and Tristan had settled into a peaceful pattern. Espie had put up a good front, but Claire knew she cried when she thought no one was looking. Tristan cooked every meal and was growing steadily more irresistible every day—as if that were possible. Gone was the highly driven billionaire and in his place was a blue jean-wearing, lopsided-smile, average Joe. Claire fell deeper in love with him every day.

Just a few more days, she thought to herself. Tomorrow was Christmas and she couldn’t put anyone out around the holidays. But once the New Year arrived she and her two houseguests were going to have a talk. Until then…

She turned off the television, bored with the latest reality drama that was sweeping the nation. Despite the peace that surrounded her, she felt jumpy inside as if a bomb were about to explode and only she knew about it.

She looked across the living room to where Espie sat, silently flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine. She had been so quiet since arriving on Claire’s doorstep. No, quiet wasn’t the word. Closed mouthed was more appropriate.

Claire had tried on several occasions to get Esperanza to talk to her, but the woman seemed content to keep her problems to herself.

And then there was Tristan. He too seemed to have his secrets. Claire had tried numerous times to get him to tell her where he’d gotten the money for her new bedroom furniture, but he wasn’t divulging. Tonight, he was acting mysteriously as well, disappearing after dinner and cryptically stating that he would be back “later.”

A knock sounded at the door. Esperanza didn’t even blink.

“That must be Tristan. I bet he forgot his key.” Claire stood and went to answer the summons.

She was glad that Tristan was home. She needed the conversation.

With a smile on her face, she opened the door.

Devin McFarland, not Tristan, stood on the other side of the threshold.

“Where is she?” He stormed into the duplex, his eyes blazing, cheeks ruddy from the cold night air.

“Hi, Devin. Good to see you too. Come on in.”

Esperanza uttered something in Portuguese that Claire was glad she didn’t understand. Then Espie raced into Claire’s bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

Bruno barked ferociously as Devin ran through the small duplex after his wife. “Esperanza McFarland,” he called. “I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.” His voice took on a beseeching quality that even through Bruno’s bark, Claire could clearly hear.

She was stunned, not just by Espie’s quick departure and Devin’s hot on her trail entrance, but the desperation she heard in his tone. Could it be that Devin had had a change of heart and now cared for his wife?

“Espie,” Devin pounded on the bedroom door as Bruno jumped up and down, barking and snapping at his heels. “Please, come out and talk to me.”

“Hey, Claire.” Just then Tristan arrived back home—or at least an eight foot Douglas fir did. “Did you know there’s a Porsche just like Devin’s parked across the street?” Tristan’s voice wafted out from between the branches of the tree.

“It is Devin’s. What are you doing?” she asked, as Tristan pushed past her into the duplex, tree and all.

And to think, not five minutes ago she would have described her life as peaceful.

“It’s Christmas,” Tristan explained as he dragged the tree through the living room. He set it down on the opposite side from the fireplace. “Well, tomorrow is, anyway.”

“Yes, it is,” Claire agreed. “But what does that—”

“We need a Christmas tree” Tristan said as if that explained everything.

“We—I have a tree.” She pointed to the two and a half foot tabletop decoration.

Tristan scoffed. “That is garland.”

“Espie. Be reasonable,” Devin said, still pounding on the door. His words were punctuated by Bruno’s now hoarse barking.

“It’s a tree,” Claire argued and went to fetch the tiny dog. The way things were going, she needed the touch of his soft fur to help calm her nerves. “Besides,” she said as she scooped the pedigreed pooch into her arms. “I don’t have any decorations.”

“It’s okay. I got those, too.” Before she could say another word, Tristan dashed out the front door, returning only minutes later with five large bags bearing labels from various stores.

“Tristan, I—”

“Now you listen to me, Esperanza. That’s my baby, too.”

“Has he been here long?” Tristan asked, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

Claire shrugged. “That depends on how you look at it.”

“Fair enough,” Tristan quipped and started pulling decorations out of the bags.

Claire was floored at the varying quality of the ornaments. Some came from the local Sac and Save while others were name brand crystal and far too expensive for an out-of-work ex-billionaire to afford.

“Tristan, where did you get the money for all of this?”

Her husband looked up from unpacking the ornaments. “Didn’t your Nanie tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Claire shook her head. “No, but I do recall one about Greeks and their gifts.”

Tristan’s grin widened. “You’re in luck.”

She raised a brow. “How so?”

“I’m not Greek.”

Before she could answer, Devin’s shouts rose a decibel. “Fine,” he screamed at the solid wood of the door. “You can stay in there all you want, but I’m not going anywhere until you come out and talk to me.”

Her head started to pound at the temples. Great, another houseguest. Just where was this one going to sleep?

A loud thump sounded from the hallway followed by what could only be the sound of Devin sliding down the wall and into a sitting position on the floor.

Claire grimaced. Not exactly the best place to rest for the night, but with both beds taken it was about the only spot left.

Tristan shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Don’t quote me on this,” he said. “But I think it’s going to be one long night.”

♥♥♥

He was living on borrowed time. Tristan handed Claire the last of the ornaments for the tree. It was just after midnight, and she hadn’t said a word since they started hanging the decorations.

This Claire that he had been living with for the past couple of weeks was so different from the Claire that he had married, but one thing hadn’t changed: her brow wrinkled when she was annoyed.

Unfortunately, said brow had said wrinkles in it right now.

He supposed she could be annoyed with the fact that his brother and sister-in-law had crashed her house. Or perhaps she was mad about the remark he made about her Christmas tree. But he knew the truth. It was him.

He was no fool. Claire was attracted to him, and she didn’t want to be. Given enough time, she would get used to the idea again, but she didn’t want to. He could tell. She wanted him out. Him and his brother and his sister-in-law. Okay, maybe not Esperanza. But she definitely wanted Tristan out of her house. Not that she had been rude to him. Quite the opposite.

“Are you ready?”

Claire nodded as he went around the tree to where the light cord lay on the floor.

“Your tree, madam,” he said. Then with a sweeping bow, he plugged in the strings of multicolored lights.

Tristan smiled to himself as Claire inhaled sharply.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

She was right, it was beautiful. The most beautiful tree that Tristan had ever seen. Maybe it was because they had decorated it together or maybe it was because the ornaments were mismatched and didn’t coordinate perfectly with the decor of the room. Whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining. He had wanted the tree to be breathtaking. It was all part of his master plan to win over his wife.

“Come sit with me.” He offered a hand to Claire and led her to the foot of the tree. They sank to the floor beneath the fragrant branches.

“When we were little,” he whispered, not wanting his voice to ruin the magic of the moment. “Devin and I used to get up early on Christmas morning. We’d sneak downstairs and sit under the tree just like this and wait on Santa to visit.”

“We used to have a tree every year. We’d go hiking through the woods behind our house and cut one down and drag it home.” Claire’s voice, like his own, was barely above a whisper.

“Did your Nanie help you decorate it?”

Claire shook her head. “My parents. After they died and I went to live with Nanie and Pop, we didn’t have a tree.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

Tristan felt gut-punched. Eleven and no Christmas tree at all was worse than eleven and a tree that you couldn’t touch because the ornaments were made of hand blown glass.

“It doesn’t have to be that way, you know.”

Claire turned her eyes from the tree to study his face. “What way?”

Tristan reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a black velvet box. He opened it, took Claire’s left hand, and slipped a diamond onto her ring finger.

Her mouth fell open as she stared at the twinkling stone. It was beautiful, elegant in its simplicity. And had to have cost a small fortune. She closed her mouth, then opened it again. Opened it a second time, shook her head, and closed it again. “Tristan,” she finally managed.

He placed a finger over her lips. “Don’t say anything. Just hear me out.” He took a deep breath. He had been planning for this moment for days and now that it was here, he felt like a geeky nerd trying to ask the most popular girl at school to the prom. It wasn’t everyday a man told his wife that he loved her. At least not for the first time. But that’s where he found himself: in love with his wife. And it was turning out to be just the place he’d always wanted to be. “I want to spend every Christmas with you. I want to decorate a tree every year. Bake cookies, wrap presents. We would be so good together. I can see that now. Let us be good together.”

He bent closer to her and covered her mouth with his own. She tasted as sweet as he remembered, and he cherished the fact.

He told himself that he wasn’t going to push her, but good intentions were made to be left behind. Especially when she pressed her sweet form to his.

The spark that had been with them since day one fired back to life. It felt so good to kiss her once again.

Claire sighed, loving the feel of Tristan’s warmth so close to her, his heart pounding in rhythm with hers. This was madness, but she had fought him so long she’d grown weary. Yet the battle wasn’t just against him, it was against herself as well.

The Christmas tree lights blinked, sending multicolored twinkles spilling across them both. The night was beautiful and magical, and she should put a stop to the folly of his kiss.

But she didn’t want to; it was as simple as that.

He placed a hand on each side of her face and pulled her mouth from his. “Just think about it,” he whispered.

She could only nod in return. It would be all that she could think about. And it was all she did think about as they pulled the bed out and began to make it.

It had been hard enough to sleep next to him knowing that she loved him and knowing that he didn’t love her back. Now she had a ring. But no explanation of what it meant. There had been no declaration of love. No explanation of feelings.

Yes, they would be good together. They were good together, but was that enough?

Without another word spoken, the two of them settled onto the lumpy mattress. He pulled her to him, violating the strict stay to the left policy and she didn’t protest as long as he didn’t ask from her more than she was willing to give.. Still she knew it would be next to impossible to sleep with his warm form so close to her. But somehow as the snow started to fall outside, Claire drifted off.

 

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.    

  

A MILLION TO ONE

Copyright 2023 by Amy Lillard 

  

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.    

 

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

previously published as All You Need Is Love copyright 2013 by Amy Lillard

significant changes have been made to the original manuscript resulting in new copyright status