Farrah Rochon - Hot Christmas Nights - Tuscan Nights / Christmas Tango / Tied Up in Tinsel

A knowing grin eased up the corner of his lips. “So you do check out my Facebook page more often than you’ve been letting on.”

She cursed the heat that instantly rushed to her cheeks.

“Occasionally,” she admitted. “How else am I supposed to keep up with your asinine Doctor Who commentary?”

His smile broadened and Nyla’s lungs suddenly had the hardest time functioning. That smile had come to mean so much to her in such a short amount of time. And she’d missed it. She’d missed it so much more than she’d allowed herself to admit.

“I considered going home,” he said. “But I decided it didn’t make much sense to fly all the way to Atlanta when I have to be back in Zurich just after New Year’s Day. I figured I’d take these few days off to see a bit more of the continent.” His shrug was casual, but his deep brown eyes held a hint of uncertainty. “Is it okay that I’m here?”

Nyla considered his inquiry for a moment. He’d contacted her on several occasions over the past few weeks, asking if she would be willing to meet with him. She’d given the idea lip service, even going so far as to suggest lunch at her favorite café in Milan, halfway between Zurich and San Gimignano. But she’d already had excuses waiting in the wings for if and when he ever brought it up again.

There were no excuses to buy her any more time. Aiden was here .

“Of course it’s okay that you came,” Nyla finally said.

But even as the words left her mouth, a prickle of unease traveled along her nerve endings.

Since fleeing Atlanta three years ago she had worked to maintain a certain distance from anything that reminded her of the single most painful part of her past. Other than Rae, who had visited once since Nyla moved to Europe, she had not been near anyone else who had witnessed the humiliation she’d suffered on what should have been the happiest day of her life, her wedding day.

Her stomach clutched with the pain that never failed to strike whenever she thought about that day.

Her wedding day should have been the happiest of her life, but it wasn’t, and unlike what many probably suspected, it had nothing to do with her groom deciding not to show up. It was because, for months before her wedding day ever arrived, she had been living a lie.

It had taken Nyla a long time to acknowledge the feelings she’d denied for so long, feelings she’d started to have toward Aiden months before she’d fled from Georgia. While she was still engaged to his brother.

But that was a long time ago. She had worked through those issues and had come to terms with the mistakes she’d made. She could handle seeing Aiden again.

Reaching for his hands, Nyla captured them both and gave them a gentle but firm squeeze. “It really is good to see you again,” she said.

And she meant it. The price she’d paid for falling in love with him had been steep—it had upended her entire life. But she could not deny that the feelings had been real.

“It’s good to see you, too, Nyla.”

The earnestness in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes, the way he tightened his hold on her hands—it confirmed the one thing she feared she would find if they ever came face-to-face again. After three long years, nothing had changed. They were both still caught up in this forbidden love that had caused so much pain for so many.

Nyla dragged in a steadying breath as she extracted her hands from his hold.

Despite the warmth the stone oven delivered to the entire bakery, she rubbed up and down her arms. She was a heartbeat away from bursting out of her skin with the bevy of conflicting emotions that suddenly overwhelmed her.

She pointed to the door. “I should lock up. We’re actually closed.”

Mentally cursing the self-consciousness that made her hyperaware of every single move she made, she walked over to the door and flipped the open sign to closed.

In an attempt to steal a few moments to catch her breath, she stared out the window at the people making their way through the narrow street leading to the Piazza della Cisterna in the very heart of San Gimignano.

“The snow is coming down pretty hard out there,” she said.

“It is,” Aiden said from just behind her.

Nyla jumped and turned, covering her chest, which she was certain would crack wide-open from her rampant heartbeats. She tried to play off her nervousness with a breathy laugh, but it came out sounding forced.

“I didn’t realize you were right there,” she said, her hand still to her chest.

Aiden’s deep brown eyes bored into hers, seeing more than she wanted him to see.

“You’re not okay with me being here,” he said. “I shouldn’t have just shown up out of the blue like this. I can tell I’ve caught you off guard.”

“Just a bit,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intent in coming here.”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, a telling sign of irritation. The fact that she remembered that idiosyncrasy about him was both alarming and revealing. She’d learned so much about him in the short time she’d known him.

He blew out a frustrated breath. “I should go. It was wrong to just drop in on you without any warning.”

He took a step toward the door.

“Aiden, no,” she said. “You came all this way. You don’t have to go anywhere. Please stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us, Nyla.” Dipping his head to her eye level, he said, “If you really don’t want me here, if you think it’s still too soon, I’ll leave.”

He brought his hand up as if to caress her cheek but pulled back before touching her. Instead he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

This was what she’d loved most about him. In her thirty years, Nyla had yet to find anyone as selfless as Aiden Williams.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said.

Profound relief washed over his face. His shoulders relaxed as a gentle smile traveled across his lips. “Good, because driving in all that snow would suck.”

The laugh that broke free felt like her first genuine laugh in months, years even. Count on Aiden to be the one to elicit it. He seemed to be the one person who could make her laugh, even when she was trying her hardest to wallow.

She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen.

“So, how are you enjoying Switzerland?” she called over her shoulder.

“It’s okay, I guess. Just being in another country is cool.” He shrugged one shoulder before leaning it against the arching brick entryway that separated the kitchen from the retail shop. “Other than a trip down to Cabo San Lucas for spring break, this is my first time abroad.”

“Zurich and Cabo are two very different experiences,” she said.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Honestly, I’ve been too swamped with work to do much sightseeing, but I plan to extend my trip by at least a week or two once the project I’m setting up is complete.”

“What exactly are you doing there?” she asked as she peeked under the towel to check on her dough.

“Boring computer stuff.”

Nyla’s brow arched. “I think I could have figured that out on my own. Care to elaborate?”

“No, I don’t,” he said. He took off his coat and draped it over his arm. “If memory serves correctly, your eyes will start to glaze over after about thirty seconds.”

Her lips twitched in amusement. He’d probably called that one correctly. No matter how hard she’d tried—and she had tried—she could not feign interest in the techie things he loved so much.

Back when she would visit his parents’ home, when she and Cameron first started dating, Nyla was convinced that Aiden was permanently attached to his computer. It didn’t matter what he was doing: grabbing a soda from the fridge, answering the landline phone, even making a sandwich. His laptop computer was in his hand.