Joel turns on the television to bring up the Christmas broadcast in which Lena Clarke will be singing soon.
“Is Lena performing her Christmas album?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.
“Believe so,” he answers. “And a few of the classics,” he adds. “She must be exhausted. Poor thing,” he grumbles.
I smile at the gruffness in his tone while also holding a touch of softness.
“They traveled from the West Coast to be here for Thanksgiving and then left late last night to be on the East Coast.”
“Sounds tiring,” I reply. “But I’m sure they traveled here because they love spending the holidays with you.”
Joel grunts. “You think so?”
He looks at me expectedly. And I realize he’s not being facetious. Joel genuinely wants to know if I believe what I’ve just said.
“Yes,” I tell him honestly. “I haven’t met your kids, not formally, but it sounds like they have the means to come and go as they please. The fact that they chose to be here with you, even for a few hours, tells me how much they love you.”
Joel turns his head toward the television, allowing me to only see his profile. But I notice his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
“I knew things would change as they grew up and started families of their own.” His tone sounds resigned. “I see my boysmore often than most men my age. I babysit my grandbaby every week out at the ranch. Aiden calls me at least once a week …”
He snorts.
“And it still feels like they’re slipping through my fingers sometimes. I’m a greedy son of a bitch for wanting more.”
I don’t know what overcomes me. Perhaps it’s the thick emotion in his voice. Or maybe it’s the way my heart kicks against my ribcage as I stare at the profile of this strong rancher upon hearing the melancholy in his tone.
Whatever it is, it leads me to reach over and take his hand in mine, squeezing it. A brief instant of surprise comes over me when he turns his palm over and intertwines his fingers with mine.
The next thing I know, Joel tugs me closer to his side. I push the trays out of our way and move closer to him, so that we’re not only side by side but touching. Leaning my head against his broad shoulder, a sigh involuntarily falls from my lips.
“Family’s change,” I murmur. “But that doesn’t mean they become any less an important part of our lives.”
He nods, peering down at me.
“Do you miss your girls?”
I smile while thinking about my daughters. “Yes and no. I miss them being little. Sometimes it feels like it all went too fast, and I was too busy living in it and doing for them than actually enjoying it.”
“And ‘no’?”
“No, because I also enjoy watching them at this stage in their lives. I love getting to see who they are as adults. Shanice as a mom …” I trail off, my chest tightening at thinking about my oldest daughter.
“She’s still upset with me over the divorce,” I admit.
Joel leans back, adjusting his body to wrap an arm around my shoulder, holding me in place. “Is she not speaking to you?”
I shake my head. “We talk, but she’s closed off. Short in her conversations before she puts one of the kids on the phone.”
I laugh but there’s no humor in it.
“I originally thought out of the two, Meghan would be the one most upset when we told them of our separation. Or, whenItold them. My ex refused to even say the words or acknowledge what was happening for the first year.
“Meghan was only nineteen and still in her freshman year of college. Shanice was older, married, and had a baby of her own. But she took it the hardest.”
“Divorce is hard, from what I hear. My parents …” He snorts. “Barely knew my father. My mother was one of his whores.”
He looks at me nonchalantly when I lift my head.
