“It’s a big change. But I’m happy to be here.”
It’s almost the truth.
“Well, I see he’s safe and sound.” He tilts his head Dad’s way. “You need a hand with a tree too?” he asks as the folks waiting on their tree take if off his hands.
“Ah, no. We’re still finding one.”
He dusts his hands on his jeans before leaving with a nod and a bright smile. I close in on my father and find him sitting with the little girl from the tree scuffle before. “Here you are.”
“Hello, darling. Have you met my friend?” Dad says, taking another sip.
I plaster a smile on my face and offer her a small wave like we’ve just met. “Hey.”
“Daddy will be back soon with our tree. Did you find one?” the little girl says.
Yeah, the one you stole.
“Not yet,” I say with a forced smile.
Footsteps close in behind me, and I glance back to see the thief himself carrying our tree over his shoulder. Because of course he is. I resist the temptation to roll my eyes and scoff at him.
“Ready, kiddo?” he says, frowning as he takes in the three of us together.
“Yep.” His daughter jumps up. “Can we decorate it straight away when we get home?”
“Are the decorations stolen, also?” I whisper to myself.
He turns toward me, tree balancing on his shoulder. “Guess you’ll never know.” He winks at me before taking his daughter’s hand and giving me his back.
Now I roll my eyes at him, letting the scoff free.
They walk through the barn, paying for their tree before disappearing through the front.
“Come on, let’s find a tree.” Dad hugs an arm around my shoulders. “I have a feeling about this Christmas, darling.”
Sorry if I don’t bank on that feeling of yours, Daddy.
Chapter
Six
QUINTON
The tree is up, the not-stolen decorations adorning its fresh boughs. The last element was just wrapped around—the string lights that Maise has loved since she was a baby. I hold the remote out to her, and she flicks the switch.
Nothing happens.
“Oh no!” Maise whines.
“Batteries must be dead. Hang on, I’ll grab some more.” I pass her the remote as I walk into the kitchen, ready to rummage through the drawers. Papers, matches, bottle tops, and enough miscellaneous junk to start a small fire. No batteries.
Hell. This is Maisey’s favorite part of decorating the tree.
“Maise, we need to go and grab some more batteries. Get your coat,” I call as I open the fridge and take stock quick. May as well get the few things on the grocery list while we’re out.
Maise appears with my coat in her hands, hers already wrapped around her and done up, her beanie pulled down over her curly hair, and snow boots over her jeans.
“Come on, Daddy, we need to get these lights sorted.”
