He found the kids arranging cushions into what appeared to be a makeshift viewing area in front of the television. Teddy was placing each pillow with unusual care, while Maisie organized a stack of Christmas movies beside the DVD player.
“We’re going to watch movies after dinner,” Maisie informed him. “Holly said she’s never seen ‘The Polar Express,’ and that’s practically illegal at Christmas.”
“Illegal,” Teddy agreed solemnly, placing the final cushion. “We have to fix it.”
Daniel settled onto the sofa, pulling Teddy up beside him. “That’s very thoughtful of you both.”
“Holly’s nice,” Teddy said, snuggling against Daniel’s side. “I like her a lot.”
“Me too,” Maisie added, climbing up on his other side. “She knows how to braid hair the fancy way, and she doesn’t get mad when you spill things.”
Daniel wrapped an arm around each child, their warm weight against him both comforting and bittersweet. They’d accepted Holly so completely, so quickly. What would happen when—if—she left?
“I like her too,” he admitted softly.
“Is she going to stay with us tomorrow?” Teddy asked, looking up at Daniel with wide, hopeful eyes.
The question hit Daniel like a physical blow. “I don’t know, buddy. That’s up to Holly.”
“But you want her to stay, right?” Maisie pressed, her expression serious.
Daniel hesitated, caught between honesty and protecting his children from potential disappointment. “I think Holly needs to figure out what’s best for her,” he said carefully.
“But…” Teddy began.
“Hey, tell me about school today,” Daniel interrupted gently. “Did you finish that art project you were working on?”
The distraction worked, launching both children into animated descriptions of their day. Daniel listened, asking questions at the right moments, but part of him remained focused on the sounds and scents drifting from the kitchen. The sizzle of garlic in oil. The rich aroma of herbs and butter. The soft humming that occasionally reached his ear… Holly was singing to herself as she cooked.
Daniel swallowed hard, a strange tightness in his chest.
He imagined this scene repeating itself a hundred times, a thousand. Holly cooking while the kids told him about their day. Movie nights with all four of them squeezed onto the sofa. Mornings at the breakfast table, evenings by the fire. Birthdays and Christmases and ordinary Tuesdays.
Not because she owed him anything... but because she chose to stay.
And he’d do everything in his power to make that a reality.
Chapter Fourteen – Holly
Holly stirred the sauce, watching the wooden spoon cut lazy circles through the creamy mixture. Steam rose in fragrant spirals, carrying the scent of garlic and herbs through the kitchen. The recipe was simple—one she’d made countless times before—but tonight it felt different. Tonight, it felt like more than just dinner.
From the living room came the sound of Teddy’s animated voice, reliving their sledding adventure for what must have been the fifth time. “And then I went whoosh down the big hill, and Holly was like, ‘Watch out!’ but I was going so fast…”
Maisie’s giggle interrupted him. “You weren’t going that fast.”
“Was too! Dad, wasn’t I going super fast?”
Daniel’s warm chuckle followed, and something in Holly’s chest tightened at the sound. She leaned slightly to peek through the doorway, catching a glimpse of the three of them bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights. Daniel sat on the sofa, one arm stretched along the back, his expression attentive as Teddy demonstrated his sledding technique with wildly gesturing hands. Maisie sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through DVD cases, occasionally looking up to correct her brother’s increasingly elaborate story.
Holly’s hand stilled on the spoon. This scene, this moment, felt so achingly familiar, as if she’d lived it a hundred times before. As if this kitchen had always been hers to cook in, these voices had always been the soundtrack to her evenings.
The realization hit her with unexpected force. Here, she felt settled. At home.
Her gaze drifted to the entryway where her new red coat hung beside Daniel’s, the sleeves almost touching. Just days before, she’d been about to get married. Now here she was, cooking dinner in a stranger’s kitchen as if she belonged.
Except that Daniel didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. Not after last night.
The memory of their almost-kiss by the firelight sent heat spreading through her veins. How he’d listened without pushing when she’d mentioned the wedding. How his eyes had held hers in that quiet moment before they’d leaned toward each other. How natural it had felt when his fingers had brushed against hers...
