I chewed the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to read the words on my phone instead of looking at him. His answer didn’t feel genuine, and a part of me wanted to demand details, but it’d be more embarrassing because there would be none. No reaction was the best reaction. The path of least resistance. “Okay,” I said, using the customer service voice I perfected when I made parent phone calls.
Yes, your child is the smartest in the world. No, they’ve never done a single thing wrong. Yes, they are a gem!I had the voice down.
“What’s your—”
“Favorite holiday movie, go,” I interrupted him. I had the pre-holiday blues, which was, frankly, unacceptable as a Calhoun. Thanksgiving to New Year’s was our time to shine, our Super Bowl, our World Series. You get the idea. Christmas lived in our blood. I mean, come on, Christian and Penny were getting married on Christmas Day. They joked they would never forget their anniversary, but I knew why.
Calhouns adored the holidays. Ugly sweater parties, gift exchanges, volunteering at a soup kitchen, Toys for Tots, Angel Tree. Our family jam-packed every possible thing into the holidays. We also had movie marathons and eggnog competitions and decorated every possible surface in the house with green or red.
Hallmark movies had nothing on my parents.
Our family home had been in magazines when we were kids. We’d been featured in articles across the country and went viral on social media five times. You know those places that win awards and music playing where people who droveby had to tune in to a radio station to hear the music? That was us.
“Am I getting Calhouned?”
“Don’t use my last name as a verb, Hop. You should know this comes with the territory. Now answer.”
He sighed. “The Grinch.”
“Which one?”
“The original, obviously. Gwen is obsessed. I’ve been a little lazy in parenting, and we may have watched it every single morning all month. She does this thing where she wants me to watch her do her Grinch smile and she shows all her teeth and it’s the cutest thing ever.”
“I think Christian sent me a video of her doing that. Adorable.”
“My mom got her a Grinch stuffed animal this year. She’s my little weirdo.”
Whenever he talked about his daughter, his entire face lit up. He smiled, and his eyes went all warm, and it made my insides turn into complete goo. Normal Hayden was hot, Dad Hayden was ridiculously sexy.
No. We don’t like him like that.
Talking about Gwen was a safe topic. Nodding, mainly to myself, I cracked the knuckles on my hands as I hoped to sound super casual and not like I wanted to throw myself at him. “So, how is Gwen doing with you leaving for two nights?”
He grunted. “She’s fine. My parents are her favorite people besides me, and they are all best friends. She’ll be spoiled rotten with ‘Baby Shark’ videos, treats, and cuddles.”
“Why do you sound mad then?”
“Ah, well.” He ran a hand through his hair, where I did not stare at the cords in his forearms. Baseball arms were also a weakness for me. Specifically, Hayden’s, but really any of them.
I fanned myself with the hem of my sweater. It was toasty in here again. I needed to keep busy, so I found a tissue and wet it before wiping away the blood on my forehead.
“I’m not upset. I’ve left her overnight before for the team, but I dread it every time.” A muscle contracted in his jaw, and he switched his left hand to right on the wheel. “I fucking hate skiing.”
I snorted. “Want to use an excuse from my list?”
“I just might, Char.”
Our eyes met for a moment, and his face softened. My stomach swooped, and my heart pitter-pattered. Why couldn’t I get over this man? Why?
Incoming call.
I jumped at the intrusive sound, recognizing my brother’s number on the dash. Phew. That was a dose ofpull it together.
“Hey, Christian,” Hayden said, no trace of the warm tone he had just used for me. “We’re about an hour away due to the snow.”
“How is she?”
“I’m fine,” I answered, touched at the concern in Christian’s voice.
