“The best,” Teddy agreed.
“It has. But now I think it’s bedtime for certain small people,” Daniel announced, ruffling Teddy’s already disheveled hair.
“I’m not small,” Teddy protested through another enormous yawn.
“Of course not,” Daniel agreed solemnly. “You’re a growing dinosaur who needs his rest before he can stomp through another day.”
Holly smiled as she started washing the serving dishes. “I’ll finish up down here if you want to get them started upstairs.”
The words flowed naturally, without discussion or negotiation. Daniel nodded, herding the children toward the stairs while Holly scrubbed the dishes clean. She could hear their footsteps overhead, the familiar creak of floorboards, Teddy’s giggles as Daniel presumably tickled him into compliance with the bedtime routine.
This felt right. So right, it scared her.
She’d left her old life behind in the blink of an eye. But this life…it would break her heart to leave them, to never see them again.
Yet Daniel had said nothing about the future. Their future.
For her own emotional sanity, she had to know if they had a future together.
And she had to know tonight.
Holly finished the dishes, listening to the low murmur of Daniel’s voice as he told Maisie and Teddy a bedtime story. She didn’t need to hear the words to take comfort from them. From him.
It was as if he exuded a sense of security that made her feel safe enough to let down her guard. After all the years of holding herself together, of maintaining the facade of the perfect daughter, the perfect girlfriend, the almost-perfect bride, here in this house with these people, she felt safe to just be Holly.
She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and moved to the living room, where evidence of their evening remained. The blanket nest was mostly still intact, paper chains draped across furniture, and the handmade coupon book lay open on the coffee table. Holly picked it up, flipping through the pages. Each coupon represented something the children valued enough to give away: their time, their hugs, their help with chores. Simple treasures that meant everything.
A floorboard creaked overhead, and Holly looked up, picturing Daniel tucking the children in, smoothing hair from foreheads, pressing goodnight kisses to sleepy faces. Her heart squeezed with a longing so intense it took her breath away.
She set the coupon book down and moved to straighten the pillows on the sofa, needing something to occupy her hands while her mind raced ahead. What would she say to him? How could she possibly bring up the subject? What if she was completely misreading things, and he just saw her as someone who needed help? What if he was only being kind because that’s who he was?
Holly sank onto the edge of the sofa, twisting her hands in her lap. The truth was, she didn’t know how to do this. In her previous relationship, everything had been carefully orchestrated, each step following a predetermined path that had ultimately led her to a church she couldn’t enter. But this—this messy, beautiful, unexpected connection—had no roadmap.
Her thoughts scattered as a chorus of voices called her name. “Holly!”
Holly stood up and headed for the stairs. “Coming.”
She went upstairs to say goodnight. Hoping that this wasn’t the last time she would perform this ritual.
“Can you tuck me in?” Maisie called out.
“Sure.” Holly went into Maisie’s room and tucked the comforter around her small body. “Is that good?”
Maisie nodded, her eyes already heavy-lidded. “Perfect. Holly?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
The simple statement pierced her heart, making it hard to breathe for a moment. “I’m glad I’m here too,” she whispered, meaning it more than she could possibly express.
She bent to kiss Maisie’s forehead, breathing in the scent of children’s shampoo and the faint sweetness of snickerdoodles. When she straightened, she found Daniel watching from the doorway, something unreadable flickering across his features.
They switched places without a word, Daniel moving to say goodnight to his daughter while Holly crossed to Teddy’s room. The little boy was already half-asleep, clutching a stuffed triceratops to his chest.
“G’night, Holly,” he mumbled as she tucked the blanket more securely around his shoulders.
“Goodnight, Teddy. Sweet dreams.” She dropped a soft kiss on his forehead.
