“How do I look?”
“Handsome.” She sighs, pulling her hand back. “I’m not ready for her to stop believing in this.”
“She’s only eight. We should have time.” I pause, noting the little lines between her brows. “Right?”
“Kids don’t believe in magic like they used to. No one does. And I can’t understand why anyone would be in such a rush to lose all the possibilities magic affords. It doesn’t matter if it’s ‘real’ or not.”
Neither of us addresses the fact that it’s very real.
“That kind of…well, that sucks. My whole upbringing revolved around the magic of Christmas. Frosty and flying reindeer.”
Chloe’s mouth twitches at the corner. “And a man in a red suit making millions of toy deliveries in one night.”
I shrug. “Nobody has to understand North Pole magic. They just have to believe.”
She tips her head to the side, her lips pressed together in thought. “Promise me we’ll let her believe as long as she wants,” Chloe says, stepping between my legs.
I wrap my hands around the backs of her thighs and tug her closer so we’re touching. “I can’t believe you even think we wouldn’t.”
“I noticed Elsa got some new clothes recently,” she murmurs, curling herself around me. “Who did that, you think?”
“Probably one of Santa’s helpers.”
“There are quite a few of those around here,” she says. “And the pets?”
“I’m sticking with my first answer.”
“Truthfully, I’m thankful for whoever stepped in.” She sighs, her relief palpable. “Coming up with different shenanigans every night is exhausting.”
“Did you just admit you not only accepted help, but youlikedit?”
“Don’t make a thing of it, Aiden.” She slides down, sitting on the opposite knee from before. “Or maybe I deserve a quick consolation prize?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is my wife proposing kisses as rewards?”
“We’re both working through hard things. We enjoy kissing each other.” She lifts a shoulder. “If you don’t like the idea…”
I scoop her up, then shove to my feet and spin her, reveling in the carefree squeal that escapes her, and the way she holds me tighter.
“Any excuse to kiss you is a good excuse,” I say, kissing her lightly this time. “But our girl is waiting on us, so that’s all you get for now.”
“She’s waiting on you.”
And that’s the moment I realize that grief and love aren’t interchangeable. They co-exist, like two parallel timelines that occasionally crash into one another.
One doesn’t exist without the other.
But I think I’d rather focus on the love. It’s brought magic back to the farm again, heart to our home.
Grief stole it, like a Grinch in the darkness of night.
Now that it’s back, it’s our job to treasure and celebrate it. Because you never know when it could disappear again.
Evie, the queen of chaos, created a diversion so I could sneak upstairs. I’m waiting, hidden away, until Owen rings the doorbell as a “prank”.
I think I’m ready until three sharp chimes pierce through the air. That’s my cue.
“Who’s there? We should go check,” Carter yells, dramatically.
