He huffed out a breath and scanned the room again. The living room of Woodward House always sunk under the weight of its own grandeur. Its stark beauty reflected its self-importance in its thick brocade furnishings and expensive finishes. The entire house suffered this design style; the office Clark holed himself up in, untouched by Kate’s magical Christmas hands, was a sea of dark shadows and leather chairs. He glanced around this room. The new décor was—dare he say it?—tasteful. Small touches of holiday décor accented the mantelpieces and end tables, while a simple wreath hung above the fireplace. Even the Christmas tree was mercifully undecorated, strung with only simple garlands of white fairy lights. On the one hand, he resented the intrusion of brightness and levity to his dark world. On the other, could he really go back to his small room and listen to their laughter and song, knowing all the while he could be a part of it if he only said yes? Was he really content to sit in the darkness when light was just a step away? He knew he couldn’t return to the shadows.

He just didn’t want anyone else to know that.

Besides, the threat of memories in this place was too strong. Every corner of this house reminded him of the time before, of when he had a family here, when this season actually meant something to him. If he stayed here with Kate and her friends, then at least he’d have a distraction.

Steady as a tree, he returned to the fold of the living room party. He never once let his expression slip, but Kate seemed to see straight through him, as she had from the moment they met. She didn’t look at him with judgment, though. There was something else in her soft tone. Understanding? Acceptance? Clark couldn’t tell and maybe he didn’t want to. All he wanted was one uncomplicated day in the sun.

“Any requests?” she asked.

“I’m not singing. But I will stay.” He tacked on another claim, just in case she thought she’d won something in this exchange. “Just to make sure you don’t burn the house down.”

A single nod and quiet smile were his only reward from Kate.

Emily picked up the slack. Popping up from the couch, she declared, “Great idea. I’ll get you some eggnog after all.”

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Halfway through “Good King Wenceslas,” the clock above the fireplace struck noon, sending a chorus of chiming bells announcing the time into the room and disturbing the natural melody of their carol. If all had actually gone to plan and Michael hadn’t screwed the entire thing up, they would have just been welcoming Clark to the house right about now.