I rub a hand over my leg, ignoring the dull ache coming from somewhere deeper within. A few more weeks. That’s all I need. Then I’ll get answers and know exactly what my future will look like.
Then I can make a plan.
One that doesn’t cost him more than he ever agreed to give.
18
FLETCHER
After I devour a slice of pumpkin and apple pie—a man can never have enough pie—I sit back in my chair and let myself breathe, enjoying the soft peace that always comes at the end of Christmas Eve. It’s my favorite part of the night, when things settle down. It’s kind of magical.
The low hum of conversation fills the room, the sharp edges of the evening softened by laughter and familiarity. It hits me, slow and wonderful, that bringing Vince here was the right choice. Not just a good choice—a necessary one. Watching him talk with my family, seeing how easily he fits into the spaces that matter most to me, does something deep in my chest. It’s like glimpsing a life that could be mine.
All I want to do is lean in and grab it with both hands. But it feels too new. Too fragile. I’m afraid if I claim it now, it’ll slip through my fingers.
As they clear plates and empty wine glasses from the table, I sense Vince watching me and reach for his hand under the table. “Are you ready to go home?”
He doesn’t reply, but the exhaustion around his eyes is answer enough.
I push my chair back. “Come on.”
He steadies himself on the table as he stands, hiding his pain behind a smile.
We find Sarah and Ryan near the hall, talking to Tegan.
“Thanks again for having us,” I say.
Sarah pulls me in for a tight hug. “Of course. I’m really glad you came,” she murmurs.
She doesn’t just mean the dinner; she’s glad I brought Vince. She’s glad for a chance to get to know him.
Ryan grins as he claps me on the shoulder, and gives Vince an approving nod that makes my chest puff up with ridiculous pride. It was a huge relief to see how easily they all welcomed him, and how easily he blended into the mix. It’s almost like this wasn’t his first visit.
Georgie hugs me tight, as if she’s afraid I might disappear if she lets go. “You’re coming to get me tomorrow, right?”
“Of course.” I cup the back of her head and kiss her hair. “But you have to call me in the morning when you open my gifts. Promise?”
She rolls her eyes and holds up her pinky. I hook mine with hers. It amuses me that even at fifteen, my daughter still reaches for our old traditions. It reminds me she’s still a kid, and it makes time slow, just a little.
“Love you, sweetheart.”
“You too, Dad.”
Georgie hugs Vince too, which clearly surprises him, but he hugs her back.
We gather our coats and leftovers, and as we step out into the cold, I realize—quite unexpectedly—that this will be the first Christmas morning in over five years where I won’t wake up alone. Georgie is almost always with her mom and stepbrothers on Christmas morning, and I’ve made my peace with that.
But now, standing beside Vince with his hand warm in mine, I feel something new bloom instead. Excitement. Anticipation. A flutter of nerves that makes my stomach dip.
The idea of waking up with him tomorrow—of coffee brewing, of unwrapping the day together—sends a rush of butterflies through me I don’t bother trying to suppress. It feels young and hopeful… and a little terrifying.
That ache grows inside me.Please let this happen again.I desperately want Vince around for more than just one Christmas.
Vince is quiet as we settle into the car. I reverse out of the driveway and guide us out of the neighborhood, then turn to ask him what he thought of my family—but he’s out cold. It happened so fast it almost makes me laugh. One second he’s awake and talking, the next, his head is lolled to the side and he’s breathing slow.
“Oh, you sweet man,” I say softly. He must have really pushed himself tonight, but at least he enjoyed himself.
Or, I think he did.
