“Are you in contact with your father at all?” Patrick asked.
“He told me not to bother,” I stated, remembering the sting I had felt when he uttered those words. “But I think he might be interested in finding out who my new neighbor is.” I sniggered. “It would certainly get a reaction.”
Patrick began to chuckle. “I wonder if he would even recognize me. I take after my mother except for my height and the early silver hair thing. She always said I had my dad’s smile and brain, though,” he mused, taking a sip of his coffee and a bite of cake. He chewed slowly, then swallowed.
“Maybe we should do a photo Christmas card.” His earlier chuckles turned back into guffaws. “I can only imagine the look on his face when he opened it. His no-good half brother and his errant son living across the street from each other.”
I couldn’t stop myself. “We should add your mother into that picture.”
He lost it. Once again, gales of laughter bounced off the walls. This time, I joined him.
It felt good to laugh.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEBASTIAN
Maggie had been quiet since we got back from Patrick and Eleanor’s place. Patrick and I had talked more, and he told me to come back when I had time. He’d show me some pictures, and we could get to know each other more. I was looking forward to it.
Once we got home, Maggie made us some tea, and we sat on the couch, watching the snow that was beginning to fall.
“I’ve got some jobs to do for Eleanor starting Monday. I need to make a list of things to pick up.” I sighed. “She insisted on giving me an advance so I could buy them.”
“Is there a lot of work?”
I chuckled. “I think she likes to change things. I have a feeling it will be an unending process. Patrick says she loves to decorate and fix things. I think he’s a very patient man.” I grinned. “Who adores his wife.”
Maggie hesitated. “How are you feeling about tonight? What you found out?”
I drew in a deep breath. “A lot of things. I’m furious with my father for lying all these years. I’m rather relieved I’m not the only person he has found lacking. I’m thrilled that I have a chance to know both Patrick and Eleanor.” I set down my tea and turned to face Maggie fully. “And once again, I am so grateful for whatever divine being sent you in my direction.”
Her eyes widened as I reached for her mug and set it on the table. I gathered her hands in mine. “Maggie, you have been an angel to me since I woke up and found you looking down at me. Because of you, I was brave enough to tell my father no. Because of you, I feel as if I have something to work toward in my life, and because of you, I found out I’m not as alone in this world as I thought I was.”
“You have a new family,” she whispered.
“Yes and no. You became my family the day you invited me into your life. Patrick and Eleanor are bonuses, but you’re what matters. You are the most important thing to me.”
I pulled her onto my lap, holding her close with my arm around her waist. I cupped her face. “You, me—us, Maggie. You’re my life now.”
“Sebastian,” she breathed. “I want to be yours.”
“You are, Angel. All mine.”
Yanking her tight to my chest, I captured her mouth with mine.
It was time.
I flicked off the light, then lifted her into my arms. Blindly, I carried her up the steps, my mouth never leaving hers. My shoulder glanced off the wall, my hip slammed into the handrail, and still, I refused to release her.
In our room, I lowered her to the mattress and stood back, looking at her bathed in the moonlight spilling through the window. She was a vision. Her russet-colored hair fanned over the white of the pillowcase. Her lips were full and pouty, beckoning my return. Her breasts were heaving under the long sweater she wore, the nipples taut and inviting my touch. She curled her fingers into fists, grasping the comforter in her want. Placing one knee on the mattress, I leaned forward, brushing my lips to hers. Her soft sigh was filled with need. I slid my fingers under the waistband of her leggings, pulling them down, exposing her shapely calves. I tugged off her socks, grinning at her wiggling toes. That was one of her signs of being nervous. I didn’t want her nervous; I wanted her open and passionate. Lost in the same desire for me as I had for her.
I cupped the back of her neck, drawing her face to mine. I kissed her until she relaxed, her nerves gone and her desire raging.