Rowan’s team didn’t even place. My heart sinks a little. I know he wanted to do well. I’m not even sure I can gloat. That feels mean. Besides, it would be wrong to do that in front of Mia when the three of us get together later. I don’t want to set a bad example for her. Especially since I’m really looking forward to that outing.
Helping choose a tree for the two of them feels like a way to make up—maybe to the universe—for my failure as a matchmaker. I might not have been successful at finding Rowanthe one, but at least the man is changing.
He’s softening on the holiday. More than a week ago, he told me he didn’t just dislike mistletoe because it’s toxic to pets. He disliked it because he hates Christmas.
Now, here in Evergreen Falls, he’s letting in some Christmas cheer—even if it’s only to make his daughter happy.
That feels like it could maybe, possibly, be down to me.
It’s a hopeful, dangerous thought. Because if I’m not careful, I’ll forget this is fake.
35
DID YOU JUST NAME US AFTER HOLIDAY FLICKS?
ISLA
But Rowan wants to gloat. About me. “Look at you. Giving me a run for my money in the coaching department,” he says when we arrive at the Evergreen Falls Christmas Tree Farm as the sun is dipping lower in the sky.
“When you’re good, you’re good,” I say, blowing on my red fingernails as we head to the cottage with the welcome sign and hours on the door.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but it turns out you’re quite the coach,” he adds.
“You should accept defeat now, Dad,” Mia says, darting past a blue spruce.
Rowan scoffs. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m just being honest. This is Isla’s home turf. You, of all people, should know about the home ice advantage,” Mia says.
Rowan stares wide-eyed at his daughter. “Where is the family loyalty? Where is the devotion?”
Mia flashes a playful smile. “I’m betting on Isla’s team,” she says, then rushes ahead to the cottage.
“Betting?” I ask as she pauses to admire a tree upahead in the sparkling packed snow. “Does she take after you or what?” Then I wince, realizing how that sounded. Of course she takes after him. She only has one parent. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put it like that.”
He slows his pace and looks me in the eyes. “It’s okay. I’m glad she takes after me and not Regina.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. But she really does, Rowan.”
“Sometimes I feel like a selfish dick for being grateful I don’t see her mom in her,” he says, his jaw tensing, but then he seems to let the tightness roll off. “But mostly…I don’t. It feels right that I don’t.”
“She’s yours through and through. Even if she likes pears,” I say.
“Troublemaker,” he mutters. But he smiles as he watches Mia gallop off to the cottage to let the tree farm owners know she’s here—such a Mia thing to do.
And I want him to know Iseehis daughter. “I bet she’s going to let them know she’s here looking for a tree.”
“Yeah, she probably is,” he says, a proud smile on his face.
I set a hand on his sleeve. “I’m glad she has you. Really glad.”
“Me too,” he says, his voice full of a raw sort of emotion—one he clears with a cough as we reach the older couple who run the tree farm.
Mia’s busy asking about prices and the best trees and listening intently to their replies. When she’s done, she turns around, giving a crisp nod. “They have all sorts of trees. We can get a Douglas fir or a blue spruce or…” She taps her chin. “How would I approach this if it were a book?”
“And a book with so many choices,” I say. “There areso many things that go into finding a tree. The color, the smell, the height.”
Her eyes pop. “I get to sniff Christmas trees?”
