Or ever.
“Plus, he’s already on his way back to D.C. I doubt I’ll see him anytime soon. I was only there last night because Joshua wanted me as a buffer, more or less. Any contact we may have in the future will be minimal at best.”
Genevieve gives me a sympathetic smile. “Look on the bright side.”
“What’s that?”
“You finally broke your dry spell and had some incredible sex.”
I sigh, grateful to have a sister who can make light of a serious situation when I need it the most. “Did I ever.”
I just wish it wasn’t with my ex’s father.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DECLAN
I shouldn’t be here.
The thought follows me with every step up the path toward Holley Ridge, my shoes crunching against the dusting of snow.
I should be 38,000 feet in the air on my way back to D.C. That was the plan. Wake up. Pack. Head to the airport. Fly home.
Then Joshua asked if I had time for breakfast before I headed out.
I didn’t.
But I also didn’t want him to think I was brushing him off. Not after missing the past twenty-four years. So I said yes.
One minute, I was nursing a second cup of coffee across from my son in a diner strung with garland and paper snowflakes. The next, I was making plans to stay for the holiday season.
I don’t have any upcoming court dates. No partner meetings. No court appearances. The only somewhat pressing matters are a few briefs I have due at the beginning of next year, but I can research and write those from anywhere. I haven’t taken a real vacation since I made partner. So when Joshua said he knew of a fully furnished short-term rental, I eagerly agreed, telling myself this would be the perfect opportunity to get to know my son better.
But the quiet, inconvenient truth is that I didn’t stay just for Joshua.
I stayed because of Claire, too.
Because despite the rational part of my brain telling me to avoid her at all costs, I’m not ready to do that. Not yet. Not after spending the past several weeks hoping my phone would ring and her voice would be on the other end.
The air is crisp and sharp with the scent of cinnamon, pine, and the faintest hint of wood smoke as I step onto the main lawn of Holly Ridge, which looks like even more of a winter wonderland than it did last night.
Tiny white lights spiral around tree trunks. Cobblestone paths are flanked by garland-draped lampposts. Children in knit hats and puffy coats wobble across a pop-up skating rink, their laughter bright and joyful. A line winds toward a gingerbread house, where a very patient Santa poses for photos. Overhead, a jazzy version of “Let It Snow” plays through unseen speakers.
For a moment, I’m no longer forty-two. I’m transported back to my childhood.
Before the sirens.
Before the silence.
Before Christmas became a day of grief and guilt.
“Declan!” Joshua’s voice cuts through my memories, and I spot him weaving his way toward me with a huge grin on his face. “You came.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I figured you’d want to get settled in.”
“I can do that later.” I pull him in for a quick hug, the gesture still unfamiliar. “After hearing you tell me all about the festival, I needed to see it for myself.”
