More Than Anything

“It’s my pleasure, dear. Come on. Let’s get you strong again.”

I followed her, ate, rested, and slept long hours in Braden’s massive bed. It was looking to be a restful Christmas, and as long as nothing happened to ruin it, I would be perfectly fine.

Ten

Braden

The Jeffersons’ “cottage” in the Hamptons was a sprawling mansion with at least sixteen bedrooms, an indoor and an outdoor swimming pool, a movie theater, and a tennis court.

They had a house party for Christmas every year, and I’d finally agreed to honor their invitation. It kept me out of reach of my mother and her serious talks about Allie and my failed marriage.

“Do you like the food?”

Beside me, Stella Jefferson, the twenty-five-year-old daughter of my hosts, gazed up at me with wide blue eyes. Beneath the admiration, whether fake or real, there was undeniable intelligence. She was one of the youngest faces of a successful start-up for online art sales. Since I’d arrived earlier in the afternoon, she’d barely left my side.

I smiled at her. “It’s excellent.”

She smiled back, and an image of emerald green eyes and glossy golden hair replaced her features in my mind’s eye. Along with the image came the pain I associated with that face.

My wife.

I wondered where she was, probably on location somewhere, doing what mattered more to her than anything else: working.

Bitter thoughts flooded my head, and I pushed them away, trying instead to concentrate on what Stella was saying.

After dinner, we went outside, where a tent had been set up over the pool, which was covered in a transparent glass flooring. The celestial lights inside the tent, the ice sculpture, the surprise performance by a chart-topping pop singer, and the flowing champagne as well as the attention of the woman beside me should have kept me entertained, but my mind kept going to Allie.

A sitting politician approached me, and we spoke briefly about the impact of some new regulations. A famous actor joined us and brought up a recent record sale of a famous painting. Doug Jefferson and his wife had enough clout to bring the most recognizable names in the world to their estate just a few days before Christmas. I conversed. I feigned interest. I thought of Allie.

It was always difficult at Christmas, trying not to think about her. Memories of that first Christmas made me ache for what we’d had, what we’d lost…

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the party,” Stella whispered, smiling up at me. “We could go back inside. I’m sure it’s quiet upstairs, and we’d be alone.”

I knew what alone meant. She licked her lips, hopeful. I took a deep breath and slowly disengaged myself from her. “I’m sorry, Stella,” I said, letting the few words carry my meaning. I wasn’t in the market, not now, and as long as Allie still occupied my thoughts, probably not for a long while.

I reached inside my pocket and fingered the smooth green stone she’d given me, so long ago. I carried it around for luck, to remind me of her, to have something of hers within reach. The memory of her green eyes flashing with amusement took over my mind. I couldn’t be sure if the memory was from the time we’d spent together or from a movie I’d seen, and that irritated me more than it should have.

I toyed with the idea of calling her, just to hear her voice, but then I changed my mind and called McGuire instead. I’d been planning to spend the night in one of the Jeffersons’ many guest rooms, but it seemed like this was one of those nights when I

needed to be on my own.

I planned to go back to the city. I had a helicopter waiting nearby just for that, but I changed my mind and instructed McGuire to take me to the house instead.

The Gracie.

I’d thought of selling it, but something always made me reconsider—maybe the memories, maybe hope. It had been two long years, and still, I couldn’t shake the hope that someday, Allie would light my home and my heart with her smile again.

I took a deep breath and chided myself for being so unrealistic. It was over, and at some point, one of us would do what was necessary and file the papers that would close the short chapter of our lives that had been our marriage. I hadn’t done it yet, and neither had Allie. That didn’t mean anything, just that legally we hadn’t severed the ties that had been cut long ago.

Without warning my staff of my arrival, I had no doubt the house would be cold and dark and the emptiness of my holiday and my life would seem amplified, especially against the memory of being there with Allie, but something drew me there. I couldn’t have explained it if I’d tried, but the closer we got, the more I felt the house was where I needed to be.

Eleven

Allie

I lay in the softness of Braden’s bed, our bed, and tried to fall asleep. Lying there, it was hard not to think of him, to remember things…like the first time we made love.

My body reacted to the memories, and I closed my eyes. I would never admit it to anyone, but Braden’s touch had ruined me for any other man, and at times like these, when I lay alone at night, I yearned for it with an intensity that left me aching.