“It’s like a Christmas movie!” Belle gasps. “Look at those dogs! They’re so big! And a sled!”
“The owners breed Newfoundlands. They have them pull a sled for the children.”
“Can we take all take a ride?”
“Sure,” Ronan says, but he looks dubiously at the sled and the dogs.
“Well, you can have a ride, Belle.” I laugh. “I’m not sure they’re equipped to take adults, especially not your dad.”
We decide to do a tour of the Christmas barn first and end the day picking out and chopping down a tree before it gets dark.
In the barn, Belle runs from one handmade ornament display to the next.
“Can we get them all?” she asks.
I grin. “That’s a lot of ornaments. But you know, in my family, we have a tradition. We choose an extra-special ornament to add to the tree each year. It’s important to pick it carefully. Maybe you could do that.”
“Is it too late to start? I’ve never had a Christmas tradition before,” Belle says. “Or my own ornament. Mother says that’s what decorators are for.”
Ronan looks down at his daughter and says softly, “It’s never too late to start a tradition. Why don’t you pick out seven special ornaments?” His voice is hesitant. “One for each year we missed.”
I get a lump in my throat when I think about how much time they’ve missed out on.
“Thank you, Daddy!” Belle throws her arms around his legs.
Initially, he looks taken aback at her enthusiasm, but then he rests his hand on top of her head and a smile of such tenderness unfurls that I have to look away for fear of getting more teary.
Belle picks up a hand-blown snowflake. It’s beautiful. And expensive. She has good taste. I grab an empty basket and hold it out to her. “Here, put your favorites in here.”
“Rudolph, definitely. And this cute little carved bear with the Christmas story. And this star, isn’t it pretty? It looks like fairies made it,” she chatters happily.
We end up buying a basketful of ornaments, decor, and all sorts of baked goods, and then make our way back outside into the cool winter air. Belle signs up to make a Christmas craft at the booth run by a local artist I know.
We stand at the edge of the Christmas trees watching her decorate a delicate snowflake, giggling at the antics of the boy next to her.
My eyes lock with Ronan’s. He leans into me, and his stubble skirts my cheek. At first, I think he’s going to kiss me, and my breath locks. But he just whispers, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask.
“For giving us this.” He gestures around at the magic fairyland that surrounds us. “For pushing me to make changes. I’m really sorry for being such an ass the other night. You were right. About everything. I hope you can forgive me.” He runs a hand through his long hair. “Work is all I know. I don’t have a blueprint on how to create a good home for Belle. It was just me and my mom growing up, and she had a lot of issues. So, being part of a family is something new to me. But you cared enough to call me out when I was fucking up.”
He turns away and blows out a slow breath. “Being a father is also new.” He shifts his gaze back to me. “Perhaps Belle has mentioned that we haven’t…been in each other’s lives for long.”
“She said some things to make me wonder. I-I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you didn’t have the chance to visit her often.”
He shakes his head. “I should have talked to you about this earlier. It might have helped you understand Belle better. But I’m wary of trusting people. I know you’re not like Tiffany. But I have to be careful, for Belle’s sake.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know I don’t have to tell you. But I want to. I trust you. The truth is, I didn’t even know I had a daughter until recently. Belle’s mother lied—about a lot of things. So Belle and I only learned about each other six months ago. And then her mom left on a trip with her boyfriend and left Belle with me out of nowhere. I’m glad to have this time with her. But I’m trying not to hurt her more than she’s already been hurt by this whole situation. I spoke to my director and producer again, and they’re changing some things so I can spend more time at home.”
His eyes roam my face.
“Spend more time with Belle,” he repeats, “and maybe y—”
“Poppy! It’s good to see you!”
No. No. No.We can’t be interrupted. Not when Ronan is finally opening up to me. Life’s not fair.
