Sparkling lights were festooned over outdoor walkways filled with locals and tourists bundled up against the cold, browsing dozens of decorated outdoor stalls, filled with charming homemade items, centered around an enormous Christmas tree in the square. Sausages of every kind, bockwurst and knockwurst and every other kind of wurst, sizzled on outdoor grills, adding the delicious salty smell to scents of pine, fresh mountain air and hot spiced wine called glühwein. Smiles were everywhere on rosy cheeks.
Past the eighteenth-century buildings around the square, including a town hall with an elaborate cuckoo clock that rang the time, craggy, snow-covered Alps rose above the tiny valley.
As she pushed her baby’s stroller through the crowds, everyone was welcoming. Gertrud and Karin, elderly sisters who ran a bakery in town, made a point of cooing over the baby. Gunther and Elfriede, selling scented homemade candles from their pine-decorated stall, generously praised Holly’s improving language skills.
Holly was surrounded by friends. She’d made a home.
So why did she feel so miserable?
Stavros, she thought. Just his name caused her heart to twist. Seeing him had been more painful than she’d ever imagined. And more terrifying. Asking him to give up his parental rights to Freddie, she’d been shaking inside.
Why had she been so afraid? Even if he’d never actually meant to threaten her into terminating her pregnancy as she’d once feared, he’d still made his total lack of interest in fatherhood clear.
So if he’d seemed hurt by her words, it must have only been his pride, injured at being told he wasn’t wanted. Obviously. What else could it be?
Dying inspired me to want more. To make one last attempt to leave something behind. A wife. A child. That’s why I slept with you, Holly. That’s why I said I wanted to marry you and have a child. I wasn’t lying. I did want it.
Was it true? Had he really been dying?
She hadn’t believed him at first. But a proud man like Stavros Minos wouldn’t lie. Not about something like that, something that exposed weakness.
Holly’s hands tightened on the stroller handle. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to let herself feel anything for him, ever again. Even if he’d thought he was dying, it was no excuse for how he’d treated her—seducing her, abandoning her!
But if he’d really thought he had only months to live...
Her heart twisted. What must that have been like for an arrogant tycoon to be helpless, facing death? What was it like for a powerful man to feel so powerless?
He’d kept his illness secret. She was the first person he’d told. He’d obviously thought it would make her forgive him.
But even if her traitorous heart might be tempted to feel some sympathy, how could she?
Because in spite of Stavros acting all shocked and upset that she’d never told him she was pregnant, he obviously didn’t want to be a father. If he’d really wanted to be part of their son’s life, he never would have let himself be scared off so easily today. He would have insisted on sticking around, whatever she said. But he hadn’t. As soon as she’d given him an escape route, and told him they wouldn’t try to claim any part of his fortune, he’d been off like a shot.
She and Freddie were better off without him. They were. Stavros was selfish and coldhearted. She’d never give him the chance to hurt their son like he’d hurt her. She’d done the right thing, sending Stavros away. She should be relieved, knowing he’d never bother her or the baby again.
So why, when Freddie suddenly whimpered in his stroller, did Holly feel like doing the same?
“Here’s your hot chocolate.” Coming toward her with an eager smile, Hans Müller handed her a steaming paper cup. The young Swiss man was sandy-haired and solidly built, with pale blue eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to him with a smile. “You’re too kind.”
“I would do anything for you, Holly.” He looked at her. “You know that.”
Sipping her cocoa, she shifted uneasily. She’d met Hans six months before, in a local café. He’d wanted to improve his English skills, and she her German. Back then, she’d been heavily pregnant, and their friendship had been easy. But something had changed lately. She feared he wanted more from her than she could give. It made her feel guilty. It wasn’t Hans’s fault Stavros had crushed all her romantic illusions forever.
“Hans,” she said awkwardly, lifting the pacifier from Freddie’s blanket to put it back in the fussing baby’s mouth. “You know you’re very dear to me...”
“And you’re dear to me. So is Freddie.” He looked at the baby, now sucking contentedly in the stroller. He paused. “He needs a father.” He looked at her. “You need a husband.”
“I—I...” She took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Hans, who’d been nothing but kind to her. I don’t think of you that way, she prepared to say.
Then she stopped.
The only men she’d ever imagined as romantic partners had both been disasters—the three-year time-waster of imagining herself in love with Oliver, followed by the massive, life-changing fiasco last Christmas Eve with Stavros.
Maybe she should give Hans a chance. Maybe the fact that she was totally unattracted to him was actually a sign in his favor.
Because the only man who’d ever truly made her experience desire, who’d awakened her body and made her soul sing, had been a handsome, black-hearted liar who’d betrayed her before the sun rose on Christmas morning.