The O’Connell Family Christmas

Chapter 1

Chapter One

“I want to get married,” Owen said, not pulling his gaze from Tessa, who was holding a chef’s knife, chopping peppers on the butcher block island he’d finished installing.

She seemed to freeze, then slowly lifted her eyes to him, still holding a red pepper. Wow, those blue eyes really packed a punch at times. Her frizzled wavy blond hair was in a loose ponytail, and she was wearing one of his T-shirts, the one he’d been looking for, with Nashville written across the chest in black.

“And who is it you want to get married to?” she said, lifting a brow and going immediately to teasing, tossing out her edgy, twisty, sarcastic humor. It was her go-to, he had learned well, when she was uncomfortable or when something turned serious.

“…Snow White?” he said. “Seriously, Tessa, you’re the only one I’m interested in sleeping with, living with, and being in a relationship with.” He slid around and swept his hand across the empty room around them, with only the kitchen table and four chairs. “Come on. You and me, we should get married. You know there isn’t anyone else. I’m being serious, here.”

He had to fight the urge to laugh at her expression, because there it was again. Her eyes widened, the blue flickering as if she were about to laugh or change the subject, or maybe she was wishing for an interruption so she wouldn’t have to answer him.

“And don’t do that, there,” he said, gesturing between them. “I can see you’re freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out, Owen. That’s ridiculous. But, seriously, what’s the rush? Things are good. Why do you want to go and wreck something that’s working perfectly? This thing between us is good, and now you want to mess it up?”

She gestured with the butcher knife, and he found himself staring at it, the way her hand gripped it. She was getting loud, and he could hear the panic cutting into her voice. He pulled his arms across his chest, leaning back on the bar stool at the island, and then reached out and gripped the hand that held the knife. He pulled it from her, and for just a moment, he wasn’t sure she’d let it go.

He said not a word, as she seemed to grip it harder. “Tessa, let go. Seriously, I’d rather not be on the receiving end of this with you holding a knife. Come on.” He pulled again, and this time she let go and stepped back, slim, sexy, gorgeous—and his, almost. “You know, getting married isn’t a death sentence. You’re making it seem as if it’s the end of the world when it’s not. We’ve been together a long time. Hell, the rest of my family is getting married around me: Ryan, Marcus, even Brady, who’s just a kid marrying a kid.”

She let out a rude noise and lifted her hands in the air. Then, instead of saying anything more, he watched as she walked out of the kitchen. He could hear her in the hall, then in the bedroom.

“Great, just great, O’Connell,” he said under his breath, putting the knife on the island.

He stood up and started out of the kitchen, taking in the small artificial Christmas tree plugged in on the sofa table by the living room window. Striding down the hall, he noted that the wall and trim on one side still needed a coat of paint.

In their bedroom, Tessa was in just a pair of pajama shorts, her back to him, pulling on a bra and fastening it. She reached for a black knit, which she pulled on over her head, and pulled her long hair free from the ponytail.

As he stepped up behind her, their eyes connected in the mirror. “I love you. You know that, right? But you didn’t answer me on why this is freaking you out so badly. I knew I’d likely have to do some convincing, but I’m starting to get the feeling you’re leaning more towards a no, and I can’t help wondering if this is about me.”

She looked at him as he set his hands on her shoulders, then over her hair, which needed a good brushing. Then she turned around, resting her hands over his chest, looking up at him. He could feel what a perfect fit she was, but he knew there was something there, some unseen obstacle. He wondered whether she even understood why she instinctively pulled back on so many things. The problem was that for him, it hadn’t been a big deal until now.

“Why do you need to get married?” she said. “This is perfect. And why are you suddenly comparing us to your brothers? So what if they get married before us? This isn’t a race, you know, and marriage is the kind of institution, frankly, that I equate to people suddenly not having to be on their best behavior, breaking promises, and slowly beginning to hate each other. And let’s not forget keeping secrets.” She gestured toward him, then pressed her hands to his chest again, running them over it, before letting them fall to her sides.

He couldn’t get his head around what she’d just said. Hating each other, keeping secrets? He supposed lying was coming next. He realized, as he stared at her and the mixed emotions staring up at him, that she really believed what she’d said.

“Okay, firstly, that’s absolutely crazy thinking, Tessa,” he said. “You know I don’t have any secrets from you. You know every one of my secrets and every dirty, dark, crazy thing that has happened in my family. What this is about is you and me. I can’t believe you’re automatically taking a twisted view of how things will be. This has me thinking we’re talking about your parents, but we’re certainly not Jill and Ted Brooks. They chose to live that lie, that life of broken promises and disappointments, being together, laughing one moment but trash-talking each other behind their backs the next. I mean, seriously, Tessa, I’m pretty sure you would never do that to me, and I can tell you, no matter how angry I get with you sometimes, I’d never cut you up like that. What happens here is between you and me. I’m not going to dissect your character behind your back.”

She was so close, and for a moment, he thought she was getting it. She was right there, but she didn’t touch him, though he could see she wanted to. Maybe it was the way she was fisting her hands, but he could see the tension in her. He could have just pulled her close and ignored this thing she was feeling and freaking out over. She hated the bickering and back and forth between her parents. It was just one of her quirks, just one of those things that made her who she was.

He’d never realized she was convincing herself that could be them. He hadn’t seen that coming.

“This is perfect, what we have,” he said. “You’re right, but I want to get married. I mean, you’re it, and marriage is just me saying there’s no one else. You know we’re together, and marriage is a natural evolution. We found each other. I love you. We get married, become a family, have kids. I seriously see myself growing old with you, and it excites me, knowing you’d be right there in our old age, racing me down some nursing home hall with a walker, with our grown kids visiting, and our grandkids…”

He had to stop talking, though, because she wasn’t smiling. In fact, her frown deepened. Apparently, she wasn’t holding on to the same dream he was.

“Then comes the disappointment and broken promises,” she said.

Oh, there she went, reverting to that lifetime of hurt she seemed to carry, that pessimism she didn’t often express. He wasn’t getting through to her.

“I’m not perfect and never pretended to be, Tessa, but we’re not your parents. I’ll say it again—or do you see us suddenly turning into them?”

She didn’t answer, but he could see he’d nailed the deep issue that had her seeing only the worst of relationships.

“I think the conversation we should be having,” he continued, “is about your parents and the fact that you’ve never come to terms with this and who they are. They’re flawed deeply, and they have no desire to change. They broke every promise to you, disappointed you, and you figured it was easier to do everything yourself. But you haven’t now, not for a while. It’s been you and me. I’m pretty sure I’m not your father. I don’t understand why you’re instantly going there, thinking that could be us. Me putting a ring on your finger, us signing a paper and being mister and missus, that doesn’t change who we are. Do you not love me?” He tried to smile, but he could see she wasn’t impressed.

“I know we’re not my parents, and this isn’t about them. Now you’re being ridiculous. Of course I love you, or we wouldn’t be doing this thing, playing house. But what’s the rush?” She shrugged, and he could see she wasn’t about to shake this twisted view.

“The rush! You’re kidding, right? Tessa, we’ve been living together for over a year—eighteen months, to be exact. The fact is that I wasn’t in a hurry either, but you seem to have your standards set so high that no one can meet them. What exactly is it that you expect is going to happen? Am I suddenly going to turn into someone different, like your dad?”

He leaned in, and by the way she flinched, he knew he’d nailed it, that sore spot of hers. For a moment, he wondered if she’d snarl, and he stepped back, lifting his hands in the air, as she pulled her arms around her chest.

“You know who I am, Tessa. I’m not perfect, not by a longshot, but you know things about me I’d never share with anyone. Or is that the problem?”

She looked over to him so sharply, so fast, her blue eyes flashing. “No, Owen, it’s not, and you know that. You know I won’t do secrets. I get what happened to you and your family, and I’m just as much a part of it as you are now.”

He only nodded as he stepped back, his hands fisted at his sides. He ran one over his hair, letting out a sigh.

She didn’t pull her gaze. “You know marriage isn’t the answer to everything,” she said, and she sounded so reasonable. “What’s your hurry, Owen? Why now?”

Again, her voice was so soft, and for a moment, he had to wonder if she wasn’t right.

“Because, Tessa, I love you, and I want to have kids, our kids. To me, marriage doesn’t seem like the worst thing ever. Maybe I want to tell everyone you’re my wife, to just take that next step with you. But I can see from all this that you’re not where I am. I have to ask, will you ever be ready, or is it just me you won’t marry? I want you to think about it, really, objectively, without your parents’ baggage coming into play. Just leave them out of this thing between you and me. Can you do that?”

She jutted her chin and pulled her gaze, and he could see how tense she was. Wow! Just talking about marriage had sent her into a tailspin. Then she shrugged and uncrossed her arms, dragging her gaze back over to him.

Instead of answering, all she did was nod. “I need to get dressed. Can you pack up the vegetables I cut? I promised your mom and Charlotte we’d also bring dessert, which is in the fridge—some pudding for the kids.”

As he watched this woman he loved pull on a pair of jeans and run a brush through her hair, he realized she had already shifted her focus to any conversation that didn’t include marriage or a future with him.