Eyes shut, slouched in the most uncomfortable airport waiting–room seat ever, Nolan Clarke "hmm’d?" at his six–year–old son. He had nothing against Albuquerque, but getting stuck there the week before Christmas because the airplane that was supposed to take them to Dallas had decided to take a sick day didn’t exactly top his list.
"That elf just said a bad word."
Nolan cracked open one eye. "Elf?"
"Over there," Casey said, pointing toward check–in.
Hoisting open his other eye, Nolan looked. His son hadn’t lied. There, groaning at the big "DELAYED" sign on the board, stood one seriously pissed green–haired elf in a red top, green shorts (with suspenders), candy–cane striped stockings and kick–ass Nike running shoes.
Then the elf turned and Nolan was the one doing the swearing.
"Dad!" Casey said, scandalized, as Nolan’s heart lunged for his throat.
The elf took a cautious step closer, squinting. Then her jaw dropped.
"Nolan?"
"Evie?"
"You know a real live elf?" Casey gasped, but Nolan was already rising to meet Evie—and time–warping back to another Christmas encounter ten years ago, that one absolutely rife with bad words. And tears and raised voices, slammed doors and broken hearts. Nolan’s chest tightened around the scar tissue.
Color tinged Evie’s face before her gaze dipped to Casey. "He’s yours?" she said, wonder in her voice, as though the Decade Without Evie had never happened.
"Yes," Nolan said through a thick throat. "This is Casey."
"You’re married," she said, not looking up.
"Was married. I’m a widower." Her Caribbean–blue eyes flashed to his and he registered the stunned pity within them. "You have green hair," he said, pre–empting her questions.
She smirked. "It washes out."
"Aw, you’re not a real elf at all, are ya?" Casey said.
Hands on striped knees, Evie crouched in front of Casey, whispering, "I’m just pretending to be an elf ’cause it’s Christmas." Then she bestowed upon his unsuspecting son the same bright smile that had once been Nolan’s reason for living. "I’m really an old friend of your
dad—"
Friend, fiancée, love of my life…. But why quibble over semantics?
"—but let’s not spoil it for the other kids, okay?" Evie said.
"’Kay," Casey said, grinning, instantly head over heels.
Like father, like son.
Evie straightened, hitching her carry–on onto her shoulder. "Well," she blew out a little too brightly. "Is this weird or what?"
…
Don’t get sucked in, don’t get—
Too late, Evie thought as Nolan’s calm, steady, Godiva gaze did just that. For ten years she’d fought to forget those extraordinary eyes, always twinkling behind his glasses. That smile. The laughter. The deep, down–home voice. That spine–tingling thing he used to do with—
Don’t.
"So…" Nolan cleared his throat. He nervously eyed the stranded passengers milling around them, reading, sleeping, bitching. Bored, Casey clambered back up onto his seat, swinging his legs. "You’re going home?" Nolan asked.
"Yeah. You?"
He nodded. Coughed. "What’re the odds we’d be stranded in the same airport? At the same gate?"
"I know," she said. "Crazy, huh?" They both sort of laughed. Nolan gestured that they should sit. So they did, Nolan pulling Casey onto his lap.
"And you’re dressed like an elf because…?"
Evie sighed, something at which she’d become extremely adept lately. "Gig I was doing at a kids hospital ran overtime and the taxi got hung up in traffic on the way to LAX, so I basically threw my bag at the check–in chick and ran for the plane." She shrugged. "No time to change."
"So you’re still in L.A., then?"
"Of course," she said brightly, melting into those chocolate eyes. "You still in Denver?" she asked, trying to ignore how good he smelled and not to think about how cute Casey was, cuddled against his father’s chest…. Or about how much she loved kids and how feeble her prospects were for having her own. That it was getting harder and harder to convince herself she hadn’t been a fool to break it off with this espresso–eyed, velvet–voiced, delicious–smelling man sitting next to her.
"I am," he said, smiling. "I’m the assistant principal in one of the high schools there."
Kiss me, she thought, then flinched at her lack of control.
"Happy?" she said, smiling.
"Yeah," Nolan said, on a genuinely contented sigh. The kind one rarely heard in L.A. Evie wanted to grab that sound and cram it into her purse, along with the tissues and Tampax and Tylenol, so she could take it out and lift her spirits like applying her favorite lipstick. "And what are you up to?"
"Oh, still plugging away," she said—still smiling. "You know." Suddenly she was very self–conscious of the ridiculous red and green getup.
"Are you happy?" he asked.
"Absolutely."
"I’m glad," Nolan said, like he wasn’t glad at all. "I just can’t believe…"
"What?"
"That it’s you," he said, letting his gaze slide right into hers, and she had to fight the urge to grab him by the front of his Broncos jacket and—
"I gotta go," Casey announced.
Nolan’s attention swung to his son. "Again?"
The kid shrugged and Nolan sighed. "Mind holding the fort? I fought off two old ladies for these seats."
"Sure," Evie said, determined to stay upbeat and cheerful as she watched the pair walk to the other end of the terminal.
"Miss Elf?"
Startled, Evie blinked at the sudden appearance of a tiny Asian girl in front of her, hugging a dilapidated bunny. Despite feeling as though she’d had rusty nails for lunch, Evie’s heart melted. "Yes?"
"Do you know any Christmas songs?"
"Uh, yeah…but…where’s your family? You’re not alone, are you?"
"Uh–uh, I’m with them," the sprite said, dismissively gesturing to a family with many loud, older boys.
Just then, a uniformed man at the counter announced they were bringing in another plane from Minneapolis, urging passengers to be patient and to hang on, that they’d be in the air in about an hour.
At the chorus of moans in response, Evie glanced around the waiting area, noting the tired whines and the antsy little limbs climbing over everything. Lots of kids about to blow. Lots of parents about to self–destruct. She looked back at the little girl. "And what kind of sorry elf would I be if I didn’t know Christmas songs?" she said, pushing herself to her feet. "Hey, kids!" she called out, pulling her elf hat out of her bag and cramming it over her spiked, lime–hued hair. "Who’s up for singing Rudolph?"
…
The plane had barely leveled off before the drone of the engines lulled Casey to sleep, his head heavy against Nolan’s arm. Several rows ahead of them sat the woman responsible for preserving the sanity of all the adults during that last, interminable hour before they finally boarded.
Not only had Evie led the kids in every holiday song known to man, she’d even staged an impromptu production of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, thanks to one little tyke who’d brought the book with him. Evie played the Grinch, of course, her antics and rubber face putting Jim Carrey to shame. It was no surprise that her captive audience was eating out of her hand.
Nolan couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. Or when Casey had, Nolan thought, shifting so his son could snuggle more comfortably. Nolan smiled, remembering the waves of giggles bubbling up from someplace deep inside his oh–so–serious little boy.
And the sparkle in Evie’s eyes as she unerringly found her spotlight, even in a crowded airport terminal.
Ahead of him, Nolan caught a glimpse of a striped leg and jiggling Nike shoe twenty feet up the aisle. Nothing’s changed. The realization was an anvil weighting the balloon of his earlier good mood. Evie Gallagher was only happy when she was in the spotlight, as if there was simply too much of her to be contained within an ordinary body, an ordinary life. She still pulsed with excess energy, with the need to give of herself, to spread the joy to everyone she met.
Falling in love with her had been a no–brainer. Even if, ironically, the very qualities he’d been helpless to resist ultimately broke them apart.
Nolan let his head drop back against the airplane seat, his breath rushing from his lungs. They’d been so young when they’d met—Evie, a college sophomore, double–majoring in elementary education and theater, Nolan, a first–year grad student in secondary education. They’d been at a lame Texas A&M mixer, but had broken away early and stayed up late. Very late.
She’d never been shy, she’d told him that first night. Whereas other little kids had to be coaxed to sing a ditty for Aunt Susie or recite a poem for Grandma and Grandpa, at three Evie was already lining ’em all up in the living room and belting out "Tomorrow" from Annie like there wasn’t one. She lived to entertain. But to placate her conservative, middle–class parents, she’d planned on becoming an elementary school teacher. A perfectly acceptable alternative, she’d said, for someone who loved kids as much as she did.
For awhile she did a good job of convincing herself it was the life she wanted, too. Just as she’d made Nolan believe that she’d really wanted to marry him, have his kids, live the suburban middle class dream. They’d been each other’s first great love and best friend. She’d been his light, just as he’d been her ballast, the one person she swore she could always count on when things got crazy. So for three years Nolan had simply ignored the tiny, constant flame of yearning in Evie’s eyes that flared into brilliance whenever she had an audience.
A flame that their love, all by itself, could never douse.
The wedding was barely eight weeks away when she tearfully admitted she wasn’t ready to settle down. To settle, period. Not until she at least took a decent shot at a film career. He could still hear her begging for his understanding…. Please, please understand why I need to do this.
And just like that it was over.
He hadn’t even entertaine