Then Teddy’s arms reached for Holly. “You too,” he said, the expectation in his eyes impossible to deny.
Holly hesitated only a moment before leaning in, enveloped by the pure, uncomplicated affection of a child who had decided she belonged in his world. His small arms squeezed around her neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if she hadn’t crashed unannounced into their lives less than two hours ago.
“Sweet dreams,” Holly whispered, her throat tight with an emotion she was not ready to name.
Then she stood up and backed toward the door where Daniel stood watching. There was something in his eyes, somethingthat stirred a feeling deep inside her…one she was also not ready to name.
Downstairs, the house felt different, quieter, and more intimate. The Christmas tree lights cast shadows across the living room, and the fire Daniel had stoked earlier still crackled in the hearth.
“They really like you,” Daniel said, breaking the silence as he lingered by the door. “Teddy especially. He’s not usually so quick to warm up to strangers.”
“They’re wonderful children,” Holly replied, sinking back onto the sofa. “You’re doing an amazing job with them.”
Daniel’s expression softened. “Thank you. That means a lot.” He hesitated, then asked, “Can I get you anything? Another hot chocolate? Or maybe something stronger? I think we could both use it after the day you’ve had.”
Holly surprised herself by nodding. “Something stronger sounds perfect, actually.” If ever there was a day for liquid courage, it was this one.
Daniel disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two tumblers of amber liquid. “Bourbon,” he explained, handing one to her. “Nothing fancy, but it warms you up on winter nights.”
Their fingers brushed during the exchange, and Holly felt that same inexplicable spark from earlier. She took a sip, letting the liquid burn pleasantly down her throat.
“So,” Daniel said, settling into the armchair across from her, “how are you really doing?”
The question was simple, direct, with no expectation or judgment behind it. Just genuine concern. No one had asked her that all day, not really. They’d asked what had happened, why, what she was going to do next. Not this.
Holly stared into her glass, watching the firelight play through the bourbon. “I honestly don’t know,” she admitted. “This morning I was getting ready for my wedding, and now I’m...” She gestured vaguely at herself, at the borrowed clothes, at this stranger’s living room that somehow felt safer than anywhere she’d been in years.
“Now you’re here,” Daniel finished for her, his voice warm. “And that’s enough for tonight.”
The simplicity of his statement made her eyes burn with unexpected tears. When was the last time someone had told her that just existing, just being where she was, was enough?
“The storm’s getting worse,” she observed, changing the subject as she listened to the wind howling outside. “I hope your power doesn’t go out.”
“We’re prepared if it does,” Daniel assured her. “Plenty of blankets, flashlights, and a wood stove that keeps this place toasty.”
“You seem prepared for everything,” Holly said, unable to keep the admiration from her voice.
He radiated a kind of quiet competence she’d only ever pretended to feel, but Daniel’s laugh was soft, self-deprecating. “Hardly. But with kids, you learn to anticipate the disasters you can.”
“And the ones you can’t?”
“Those,” he said, taking a thoughtful sip, “you weather together.”
As she sipped her bourbon, the idea of weathering storms with Daniel by her side was dangerously appealing, given that she barely knew him. But her heart didn’t seem all that interested in a background check right now.
“Your tree is beautiful,” she said, her gaze drawn to the multicolored lights. “So personal.”
“Is that a polite way of saying messy?” Daniel asked, his tone teasing.
“No, it’s just…” She took another sip. “My mother always decorated the tree. She always insisted it was just so. Not an ornament out of place.”
“Not in this house. The kids insist on decorating it differently every year. And there are always new ornaments to add to it,” Daniel explained, his pride evident. “That paper star near the top? Teddy made that his first Christmas with me. And the pinecone angel is Maisie’s from last year.”
“Their first Christmas with you?” Holly asked, curious despite her exhaustion.
Daniel’s expression shifted, something vulnerable crossing his features. “I adopted them three years ago. They’d been in foster care since their mom had gotten sick. When I met them, they’d been bounced around too much. They deserved stability, a home.”
The simple way he stated it, as if taking in two children had been the most natural decision in the world, made Holly’s heart constrict. “That’s... incredible.” Andrew’s face flashed through her mind for the briefest moment, and she knew without a shred of doubt he would never have done something like that. Not in a million years.
