Page 95 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“I took out the trash later that night, and when I saw it, I pulled it out just in case.” Her dad shrugged, setting the box in her lap and taking the seat next to her. “After reading his letter to you—”

Wren groaned. “I can’t believe you would read it!”

“I told you, I was worried you were planning on running away.” Her dad stroked his beard, a nervous habit when he was uncomfortable. “What I realized after reading it, though, was that his feelings were real. Even though you seemed to have moved on, I thought if the two of you worked out eventually, you would regret not having the stuff.”

Although Wren wasn’t happy about his duplicity, she had never been a parent to a sixteen-year-old girl. If she’d been thrown into his shoes, Wren had no idea what she would have done.

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.” Wren gave him a hug, which he returned with a few hearty back slaps.

“I am assuming because you’re asking about that letter that you and him have worked things out?” he asked.

“You would assume correctly.”

“So, are we going to see him today for family lunch, then?”

Wren stilled, surprised by her dad’s casual inquiry. “Do you want me to bring him to family lunch?”

“Well, if he’s going to end up being a part of my family anyway, you might as well start bringing him around now so we can get used to him. Especially if the two of you are trying to expand.”

Wren bent over with laughter. “Really, Dad? ‘Expand,’ like I’m a hot air balloon?”

“I’m just saying, I don’t know what the heck is going on between the two of you, but what I do know is that a week ago you were talking about being impregnated and going at it alone. Now, you’re back together with your high school boyfriend, and God knows what plans the two of you have for the future, but I am staying out of it. I am going to stay in my lane and mind my business.”

“So, you wanna be surprised by our plans?” she asked, wondering how painful it was for him to say he didn’t need to know.

“I figured when there’s something to tell, someone will tell me.”

“Then I guess if I’m bringing him to lunch today, I better go home and tell him so he can dress accordingly.”

“Dress accordingly? We don’t get all fancy for Sunday lunch.”

“I know, Dad, I’m joking.” Wren patted his shoulder and climbed to her feet. On impulse, Wren leaned over and hugged him. “Thank you very much.”

“No thanks needed. I love you, kiddo. I’m sorry things got so messed up between us.”

“It’s okay,” she said, releasing him to stand back up. “That’s what life’s all about, right? Second chances and forgiveness?”

“Whatever you say.”

Wren headed for the door but stopped when her dad called her name.

“I just want you to know that I will . . . try to like Sam.”

Wren laughed. “That’s all I can ask.”

Sam woke up to kisses on his chest, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Wren hovering, smiling down at him.

“Good morning,” she said.

Sam checked the clock and saw that it was after nine. He wondered why his alarm hadn’t gone off, then remembered it was Sunday.

“Good morning,” he murmured. “Come back to bed.”

“I would, but every Sunday I have lunch with my family. And this time, you are invited to join us.”

Sam sat up in bed, giving her wide eyes. “Did your father have a stroke?”

Wren laughed. “No. I think he’s actually gotten softer in his old age.”