He nods toward the bakers, who are scrambling as the clock ticks down. “Who do you hope makes it to the final round?”
“Oh. Uh.” I clear my throat, scanning the row of contestants, most of them local bakers hoping to increase awareness of their business. “I like Jaxon. Anytime I post a clip of him on social media, our views skyrocket.”
Joshua smirks. “Always the marketing brain at work.”
“I can’t help it.” I shrug, trying to match his easy tone. “I see a speck of dirt and want to figure out a way to market it as artisanal holiday soil and make it go viral.”
“And I love that about you.” He chuckles, his eyes shining with affection.
Affection I don’t deserve.
I turn my attention back to the contestants. One’s piping buttercream onto his towering gingerbread castle. Another iscaramelizing sugar with a torch. But despite the excitement surrounding me, all I can feel is Joshua’s steady gaze on me.
“Have you decided what you’re doing for Christmas?” I ask to cut through the tension mounting with every heartbeat.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to stay here, or…spend it with your father?” The word catches in my throat.
Joshua’s jaw works as he considers. “I’m not sure. Sycamore Falls is my home. But maybe going to D.C. isn’t such a bad idea. That way I won’t be surrounded by memories of Mom.”
I give his arm a squeeze. “If you stay, you’re always welcome at our house. You know that.”
“Thanks.” His expression softens, but his eyes don’t leave me. I can feel the weight of them. Pressing. Studying. Scrutinizing.
I drop my hold on him, pretending to be consumed by the final seconds of the competition. But it’s all just background to the heat of Joshua’s stare.
“You love him, don’t you?” he says softly after several protracted moments.
I whip my head toward him. “What are you talking about?”
“Declan,” he replies simply. “My father. You’re in love with him.”
The air leaves my lungs in one harsh exhale. “I… What? Why would you?—”
“You don’t need to lie to me, Claire.”
His tone is calm, steady, lacking even a hint of accusation. A contestant drops a bowl, and the crash echoes like a cymbal. Regardless of the unexpected sound, Joshua doesn’t pull his attention away from me.
“You don’t have to protect me from being hurt,” he assures me. “It’s okay. I mean, when I first suspected it, I didn’t wantto believe it. But then I saw the way you looked at him at the parade. It’s the way I’ve always wanted a girl to look at me.”
My heart aches. “Joshua, I…”
“And when I saw the way he looked at you?” He shakes his head. “I never looked at you that way. But he did. And that’s what you deserve. I’m sorry I stood in your way of finding that for so long.”
My eyes sting, and for a second, all the noise of the barn fades. It’s just Joshua and me. Like it’s been most of my life. He’s always been there for me. Never judging. Never assuming. Just…there. After everything, he deserves the truth.
“We met in Boston,” I rush out, the words leaving me before I can stop them. “Before I knew he was your father. When I met you for dinner and saw him sitting there, I thought I was imagining it, since I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. But when it turned out to be him?” I blow out a long exhale. “It was definitely the shock of a lifetime.”
“I can imagine.” He laughs under his breath.
“Hereallywanted to focus on building a relationship with you, Joshua. I could tell how important it was to him. How scared he was over the idea of you hating him already. So we agreed to forget we ever spent the night together. Pretend it never happened.”
“But you couldn’t.”
“No.” My voice cracks. “At least,Icouldn’t. But Declan…” I trail off, struggling to find the words.
“What happened?”
