Hot Christmas Kisses

He saw agreement flash in her eyes and sighed. God, what was going on with her? And why couldn’t she just spit it out? Matt closed his eyes and released a long breath.

“Jesus, DJ, just tell me already.”

DJ stood up, walked over to the window and folded her arms across her stomach. She bowed her head and he could see her shoulders shaking. God, he hoped she wasn’t crying. Tears were his Kryptonite. He stood up, went over to her and stood behind her, not touching her but silently offering his support. “You can tell me, Dylan-Jane.”

DJ remained silent for a long time and when she finally turned, he saw the capitulation in her eyes. Finally!

“We made love on Christmas Eve and I got pregnant.” Her words were a series of punches in his solar plexus. He battled to find air, to make sense of her words. Then DJ took another deep breath and spoke again. “I lost the baby in February.”

It took a minute, an hour—a decade—for his brain to restart, his mouth to work. He thought he was calm but when the words flew out of his mouth, they emerged as a roar. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? As soon as you knew?”

DJ’s face drained of color and she retreated a step so that her back was flush against the window.

“I tried—”

“Not that hard,” Matt shouted, unable to control the volume of his voice. “I had a right to know, dammit! How dare you take that away from me? You lied to me! You let me believe one thing when the exact opposite was true. Jesus, Gemma!”

Gemma? Had he really said that?

Matt stared at DJ, noting her dark eyes dominating her face. She was edging her way to the door, needing to walk away from him. He didn’t blame her. In his anger and shock, he’d overlapped Gemma’s and DJ’s actions and he wasn’t sure which situation he was reacting to. He needed to leave, to get his head on straight, to think about what she’d said, what had happened.

To find distance and control.

Matt whirled around, walked to the door and yanked it open. Stepping into the hallway, he saw Jules and Darby jogging down the hallway toward him with Amazonian warrior-woman expressions on their faces. They blocked his path, momma bears protecting their cub.

“What happened?” Jules demanded, her expression fierce.

“Did you hurt her?” Darby asked, equally ferocious. “If you hurt her, we will make her press charges.”

God, what did they take him for? “She’s fine. We just had an argument,” Matt wearily replied.

Air, he needed air.

“If she’s hurt, Edwards, I swear to God we’ll string you up,” Darby told him before she and Jules pushed past him and rushed down the hallway to their friend’s office.

Matt watched them rush away, his heart trying to claw its way out of his chest. He rubbed his hand over his breastbone, trying to ease the ache, a part of him still not believing DJ’s declaration. For the second time in his life, he’d heard that a woman had miscarried his baby. Unlike the last time he’d experienced this news, the baby he’d briefly given DJ would not, like Emily had earlier this year, write him a letter and tell him that he, or she, was his biological child and ask if they could meet.

He didn’t want a family, wasn’t cut out to be a dad, but, man, that thought made him feel profoundly sad.

Three

So wow. That happened.

DJ stared at her office door, flabbergasted by Matt’s off-the-wall reaction. She’d spent hours imagining the conversation they’d just had, and she’d never once thought Matt—cool, calm, controlled Matt—would lose it.

And lose it loudly.

DJ dropped to the edge of her couch and placed her head in her hands. After trying to reach him a few times in March and failing to connect with him, she concluded that there was simply no point in telling Matt that she’d conceived and then miscarried. It had happened so quickly, he’d been so far away and, really, what impact would it have on his life? Zip. Zero.

If anything, she’d expected him to be thankful she wasn’t still pregnant because, hell, a part of her was grateful for that.

There were many reasons why she felt relieved about losing the baby—and even more reasons why she felt guilty for feeling relieved. Not having to tell her own mother that she was going to be a single mom was high on the list. DJ hadn’t had any contact with her father since she was a child, so telling him wasn’t a factor.

Her parents were, in fact, the reason she’d never wanted to have kids. She was terrified that she, like them, would turn out to be as horrible at raising a child as they were.

She lived with the memories of her father walking away—at Christmas, for the love of God!—to move in with another woman and her child, a girl he adopted as his own shortly after leaving. He’d left DJ with Fenella, who wielded her tongue like a scalpel. DJ’s goal in life had been to have an awesome career and enough money so she could be free from her mother’s checkbook and caustic tongue. No stranger, DJ knew, could hurt you as much as someone you loved.

DJ’s office door banged open and her best friends rushed inside. DJ stood, and Darby grabbed her biceps and gave her a tip-to-toe scan.

“We heard shouting. Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

“What? No!” DJ frowned at them. “Matt would never hurt me.”

Jules arched her eyebrows. “We heard him yelling.”

DJ wrinkled her nose. Fair point.

“You don’t fight, DJ, so what’s going on?” Jules asked.

And there it was.

While she didn’t volunteer information, she didn’t lie to her friends. As Darby stepped back, DJ gestured for them to sit on the sofa. She’d dropped one bombshell today, she might as well drop another.

A year was a long time to keep this secret and now that she’d shared it with Matt, she didn’t want to keep it to herself anymore. Darby and Jules were her friends, she should be able to tell them stuff. She wanted to tell them, even if it would be hard to say and, for Darby, hard to hear.

DJ looked at the twins, thinking that they couldn’t be more different if they tried. Jules was dark-haired and blue-eyed, Darby a silver-and-steel-eyed blonde. The only thing they had in common was their stylish dress sense and the worried expressions on their faces. They sat down on the couch and Darby gestured to the chair opposite, silently suggesting that DJ join them.

DJ wanted to stay exactly where she was.

“Sit down,” Jules suggested.

DJ touched her fingertips to her forehead, conscious of a monstrous headache. She sucked in some air, waited for her knees to lock and walked over to the empty chair, sending a wishful glance toward her coffee machine. Damn, she needed caffeine, preferably intravenously injected. And if it was laced with a stiff shot of whiskey, she wouldn’t complain.

“Talk to us, DJ,” Darby said, sounding worried.

DJ linked her fingers around her knees and tried to calm her racing heart. As a child, every time she’d tried to communicate with her mother, she’d been castigated, shamed or ridiculed. If she could avoid talking, she would. Because, when she tried to explain her thoughts and feelings, more often than not, she made a hash of things.

Look what a mess she’d made of talking to Matt. He’d stormed out, mad as hell.

Prior experience told her that this conversation wouldn’t go well, either. DJ fiddled with her hair and sent a longing look toward her computer. This was why she liked numbers and spreadsheets and data. They didn’t require her to form words.

“DJ, we’re worried about you,” Jules said.

“I’m f—”

“If you say you are fine, I swear I’m going to slap you!” Darby said, her words and expression fierce. “We know something is wrong, it has been for months and months!”

Hearing the fear and worry in her voice made DJ feel like a worm. And because she was already overly emotional, tears rolled out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

Jules dropped to her knees in front of DJ. “For God’s sake, just tell us already! Is your mom being a super bitch? Is it Matt? Did he do something to you?”

“No, that’s not it.” DJ ran her hand around the back of her neck and looked for her courage. Lifting her head, she looked past Jules to Darby. “This is so damn difficult for me, Darby, I don’t know how to tell you this—”

“Just say it, DJ.” Darby ground the words out.

“When Matt and I got together last Christmas, I got pregnant. I miscarried about six weeks later, in February. I never told Matt. I never told anybody.”

Jules gasped, but DJ was most concerned about Darby. Color leached from her face and her bright eyes looked like moonlight in her face. DJ saw her friend’s hands shaking. Just like she’d anticipated, Darby was taking the news badly.

DJ needed to apologize. “It was an accident. I didn’t plan it. I knew it would upset you, so I didn’t tell you. And I felt so damn guilty because I didn’t want to be pregnant when you want a child so badly. And then I felt—still feel—sad, and guilty, for losing that child.”

Darby rocketed up and slapped her hands on her hips. She shook her head and looked at Jules. “Can you believe this?”

Jules stood, too, and took a step closer to Darby, showing that they were a unit, a team of two, and that DJ was on the outside of their group.

“So, judging by his shouting, Matt is furious because you didn’t share this news with him, either?” When DJ didn’t answer, Jules threw up her hands. “We don’t blame him. He has a right to be as mad as all hell, Dylan-Jane.”

DJ bit her lip. Okay, their reaction was worse than she’d expected. She lifted her hands and quietly murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Tears turned Darby’s eyes a lighter shade of silver. “I’m sorry that you had so little faith in us that you couldn’t tell us sooner, DJ. I’m sorry that you think I am petty enough to only think about myself when you are faced with one of the most difficult situations of your life. I’m sorry that you think so little of our friendship, so little of yourself.” Darby’s soft words were loaded with sadness. They burned DJ like acid-coated hail.

“When are you going to realize that you can mess up, DJ, that you can be human?” Darby asked.

The hailstones turned into hot bullets that pushed through skin and bone to lodge in her heart.

“Dammit, DJ, for months we waited for you to talk to us, to ask us to share your burden. But you shut us out! Then you started looking and sounding better and you slowly started coming back to yourself, so we decided not to bug you, to let you be. But now we find out that you were pregnant and that you had a miscarriage and you chose to deal with all that alone?” Darby cried.

“Everyone was worried about you, DJ. Callie, Levi, the Lockwood boys,” Jules added. “When are you going to realize that you are as valuable, as much a part of this family, as the rest of us? When are you going to start leaning, start accepting that we are here for you?”

DJ should trust them. She wished she could. They’d never, not once, let her down. But she was terrified that someday they might.

At eight, she’d believed she was the center of her dad’s world, but he walked away without looking back. Her father had been the first, but Fenella continued the rejection. Every time she dismissed or denigrated DJ, played her mind games, DJ felt as alone, as abandoned, as she had the day her dad left.

It was easier to believe the people she loved would abandon her when she needed them most rather than face that kind of hurt again.

Darby rubbed her hands over her face. “Dammit, DJ, I am so sick of you trying to be perfect, of you standing alone and apart. I cannot believe I am saying this, but you have to make a decision. Either you are part of our lives in every way, prepared to lean on us, or you go your own way. Whatever you choose, we are never going through this again!”

This was the reason she didn’t talk, why she kept her own counsel. Once again, she’d cracked open her shell only to have a knife shoved into her exposed belly. She talked to Matt; he’d exploded. She opened up to the twins, and they issued her an ultimatum.

“We need you to talk to us!” Darby said, her expression now determined. “We want to know about the big and the little things, the good and bad. And stop trying to find every excuse you possibly can for avoiding Christmas family functions. Enjoy being with us over the next few weeks. For the first time in your life, properly embrace what being part of our family means. If you can’t do that, if you won’t do that, then I think it’s time we all move on. We love you too much to only have access to a facade. And frankly, we damn well deserve more!” Darby didn’t raise her voice, but DJ was left in no doubt that she meant every word.

DJ looked at Jules, hoping to find her as shocked at this ultimatum as DJ. But Jules just looked sad. “Let us know what you decide, Dylan-Jane.”

God.

Jules followed Darby to the door and when it closed behind them, DJ dropped to her chair and stared at the floor.

Yep, it was official. Having heart-to-heart conversations really wasn’t what she did best.

* * *

The following evening, Matt walked across the road to Levi Brogan’s house. Like most of the houses in the gated community, and like Lockwood House itself, it was Georgian-inspired with its portico and columns. But instead of redbrick, the cladding was painted a pale gray and the white-framed windows were free of shutters. Ivy climbed up the side of the three-story building and across the front of the three-car garage, on top of which was what looked to be a guest apartment.

Matt rested his hand on the gate and looked around. He liked this exclusive community, liked the amount of space between the houses, the big trees and the quiet streets. He was used to the bustle of city living in The Hague, but this golfing community held a serenity that appealed. He’d never visited here before.

This was Dylan-Jane’s world, her people.

For years they’d met on neutral territory, places where neither of them had friends or acquaintances. They could focus on each other with no distractions. Their trips to unfamiliar places subconsciously reminded them that their time together wasn’t real life.

But being in Boston, in her town, and living across the road changed that.

He couldn’t get on a plane and distance himself. His obligations to his grandfather and the meeting he hoped to have with Emily were happening side by side with his need for DJ.

He wanted her—of course he did. He didn’t think there would ever be a time when he didn’t want her. But here, in Boston, he’d started wondering about more than the attraction between them. Which house was her childhood home? Had she climbed that magnificent maple down the street? Had she been a tomboy or a girlie girl, naughty or nice?

Matt rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, trying to push away the curiosity. He was asking for trouble if he looked at DJ as anything other than a no-strings, uncomplicated affair.

He didn’t do complications. He avoided risk. For the past eighteen years, he’d forced himself not to think about having a family, reinforcing the belief that marriage and having kids wasn’t for him. He’d been at the mercy of unpredictable parents and then unyielding grandparents and neither set of parental figures gave him anything near what he needed. He didn’t want to perpetuate that dysfunctional cycle...

For eighteen years, he’d managed to stand apart, to not get involved, to be self-sufficient...but being in Boston made him think of family and those childish shattered dreams.

It had to stop. He was not an insecure kid anymore.

Enough of the past...

Matt jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants and rocked on his heels, still not walking through the gate. There could never be anything more between him and DJ, he knew that, but he was also certain that he owed her an apology. By losing his temper, he’d reacted badly. She’d shared a horrible experience with him and he’d seen the pain in her eyes, but he’d pushed her feelings aside to indulge in his life-wasn’t-fair moment. He should’ve listened, tried to understand before reacting.

Yeah, not his proudest moment.

Irritated and ashamed, Matt pushed through the gate and walked up the steps to the ornate wooden door. He knocked and when a female voice answered, “We’re in here,” he stepped into the hall.

Matt followed the sound of the voice to a large sitting room filled with sofas covered in a mishmash of fabrics and colors. It shouldn’t work, but it did. It was luxurious and comfortable and homey and chic all at the same time, and he immediately felt at home.

Glancing around, he saw Jules and Darby sitting on a flame-orange sofa, holding on to wineglasses like they were lifelines, tension radiating off both of them. Shoulders hunched, mouths tight, eyes bright. Matt frowned, looking for DJ. Where was she?

His big boots hitting the hardwood floor had them lifting their heads and he saw the misery in their eyes. Yeah, this wasn’t good.

“What’s happened? Where’s DJ?”

Darby exchanged a long look with Jules and she released the breath she was holding. “Matt. Perfect.”

A shed-load of sarcasm in two words. “Is DJ okay?”

“DJ is always fine, Matt, didn’t you know that?” Darby said, her words bitter. But beneath the sarcasm, Matt heard pain and worry.

“She’s in her apartment, Matt,” Jules finally answered. “Yesterday and today were tough for her. If you were planning to keep fighting with her, please don’t.”

So Jules still felt protective of her friend. Her statement lessened one of the many coils squeezing his heart.

“Are you still mad at her?” Jules demanded, obviously curious.

No, his anger now had a different target—himself.

Matt shrugged. He wasn’t in the habit of discussing his personal life, but these women were DJ’s best friends, the people who knew her best. He kept his explanation short. “I’ve been calling her since last night. Messaging her, emailing. She isn’t responding.”

Darby shook her head, disappointed. “Join the club. God, I could just strangle her right now!”

Okay, so he’d obviously walked into some additional drama. Maybe he should come back later, when they were all a little more even-keeled. He was an expert at reading body language, but he didn’t like dealing with drama anywhere other than in court, where he used it to get the result he wanted.

“What happened?” he asked, forcing a gentle note into his voice.

“I—She—DJ...grrr.”

Matt lifted his eyebrows at Darby’s actual growl. DJ had really managed to annoy the crap out of Darby.

Darby shoved a hand through her hair, looked from Jules to him and her chin wobbled. “Yesterday we gave her an ultimatum. It wasn’t pretty.” Darby threw up her hands and rapidly blinked. Yep, definitely tears. And damn, if she was in tears then DJ was more than likely crying, too.

Such fun. Matt sent a longing look to the door.

“I need to get out of here,” Darby muttered, pulling at the collar on her white polo-neck sweater. Since she made no effort to move, Matt figured she wasn’t going anywhere.

But leaving sounded damn good and Matt wished he was anywhere else. Someplace that didn’t have about-to-cry women, best friends fighting, a crap load of emotion. Nailing a bad guy using facts and words sounded like heaven right now.

“Maybe I should be the one to go.”

“Yeah, you don’t get to be that lucky,” Jules told him, standing up. “The easiest way to get to her apartment is to leave the house via the kitchen door, turn right and the stairs to her apartment are there. Tell her that she’s expected to join us ice-skating tomorrow evening. It’s the first of our get-into-the-spirit events.”

“Get into the spirit of what?”

A touch of amusement flickered in Jules eyes. “In the weeks leading up to Christmas, we all do fun things together. It’s a tradition my dad started, and we’ve kept it going. DJ always finds an excuse to avoid any of our Christmas get-togethers.”

“She does? I thought she loved hanging with you guys,” Matt replied, confused.

Jules started to speak then looked at Darby, who shrugged. Some sort of twin-communication thing happened and Jules continued, “DJ gives a lot more than she takes. Despite a quarter of a century in our lives, she still doesn’t talk to us. Maybe you being here can change that.”

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