I’m drying a glass at the bar top when I see Cam walk in, shaking the rain from his coat before heading straight in my direction. He doesn’t order anything, just reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, familiar object. A delicate gold locket.
His mom’s locket.
He slides it across the bar toward me as my jaw hangs open in shock.
“I was going to give this to her myself.” His voice is steady but I see the emotion flickering beneath the surface. “But I think it would mean more coming from you.”
I feel frozen in place. My fingers hover over the locket, hesitant, almost afraid to touch it. I remember it resting against Isela’s collarbone. She used to absently toy with it whenever she was deep in thought. I haven’t seen it since she passed away. I just guessed she was buried with it. But now, looking at it feels like being hit with every memory I have of her all at once.
Isela Diaz may not have been my biological mom, but she was more of a mom than I ever had. When she passed away, it hit me just as hard as it hit her blood-related children.
“Cam,” I start.
“She’d want Emma to have it,” he interrupts, as if knowing what I’m going to say. “And… I think Mom would’ve wanted you to be the one to give it to her, too.”
I exhale sharply and simply nod, unable to find the right words to explain the mix of emotions overcoming me.
Cam gives me a quick pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving me standing there, staring at the locket like it holds the entire weight of the past in its tiny gold frame.
When I get home, the house is quiet. Emma is asleep on the couch again, curled up in a blanket, the fire crackling steady in the hearth. I sit on the edge of the couch and fixate on the soft rise and fall of her chest, brushing a piece of hair from her face. After what feels like an eternity of admiring her, I press a kiss to her forehead before heading to the kitchen.
Tomorrow, I’ll make sure she knows how special she is to me.
34
EMMA
The scent of pine, gingerbread and cinnamon fills the house as I sit on the floor, untangling a string of Christmas lights, while Liv and Sophia bicker over how to arrange the garland on the mantle. Every inch of my body aches, exhaustion creeping in and settling inside my bones more quickly than I’d like to admit, but I push through. The house needs to look perfect for tomorrow. It’s my first time hosting anything in this house, and probably my last, if we’re being brutally honest.
But I would never say that part out loud.
Liv huffs as she steps back from the mantle and crosses her arms over her chest, admiring their work. “Remind me again why we’re letting you host when you can barely stand up without looking like you’re about to topple over?”
I roll my eyes, wrapping the lights around my hand and elbow. “Because I want to. And if I don’t, Cam will, and Christmas deserves a little more joy than that.”
Sophia giggles, fluffing one of the decorative pillows on the couch. “She’s got a point.”
Liv levels me with a look that’s way too knowing. “Still, you should be resting, not playing Martha Stewart.”
“I don’t want to rest,” I admit. “I want to dothis. It’s my favorite holiday and I want it to feel normal and special this year, despite the circumstances.”
Liv’s shoulders fall in acceptance. She exchanges a glance with Sophia before kneeling next to me, taking the lights from my hands and finishing the job herself. I sigh and lean back against the couch, rubbing my temples as I try to catch my breath.
“You okay?” Sophia asks quietly, concern lacing her voice.
I nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”
I can tell they don’t buy it, but they know not to pry. I don’t have the energy to argue, and they know that too.
As we finish up, I glance at the clock. “By the way, Alex is planning a surprise for me tonight. He wants me at his place at seven. I have no idea what it could possibly be.”
“A man that plans surprises? Where do I get one of those?” Liv teases.
I can’t remember the last time she ever had a serious boyfriend, usually picking the ones afraid of commitment or that clearly have unresolved mommy issues.
I laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t. You can have Frankie instead, though.”
Sophia snickers, and Liv’s eyes shoot daggers at us both. “That’s disgusting. Thatcan’tbe my destiny.”
