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“If they get too much at all, just let me know. They can be a lot, but they’re mostly just excited. They don’t meet a lot of new people, and—”

“It’s okay, Scar. I think they’re great,” I assure her, and her shoulders fall in something that looks like relief.

Footsteps batter the stairs and a moment later, Caitlin and James come flying back into the living room. They flank me—Caitlin on my left, James on my right—each taking one of my hands. They’re so small.

“The horses!” Caitlin says, tugging me to the stairs with some amount of strength.

She seems perfectly comfortable having me around, and neither of them lets go of my hands as Caitlin shows me her horse collection. Their bedroom is cozy, if a little cramped. They have twin beds, with matching blankets I’m sure are handmade. Most of the clutter and clothes seem to be Caitlin’s, but Scarlett mentioned James has his own room and they’re just sharing at the moment. He has a tattered purple T-Rex plushy on his bed, and a tower of picture books on his nightstand. The rest of the room is very … horsey.

There are a lot of stuffed toys and little figurines, but she’s most excitable when she shows me the drawings; some, she drew herself, but most, James drew for her.

“Those ones are my favorite. James is my best friend,” she says, shrugging like the words don’t turn me into a puddle of goo.

“You’re a good artist,” I tell him, and he gives me a shy, toothy smile.

“I like drawing for Mama and Cait.” His eyes light up when he talks about them.

He reminds me so much of Ronan when he was younger, and Caitlin is so like Fallon. Even if they didn’t have the Michaelson eyes, I would be able to see it.

Scarlett calls us down for dinner, and the kids show me where to wash my hands before we go down. The bathroom is spotless, and it smells like Christmas. Sweet apple and orange, fresh pine, a hint of cinnamon and ginger. It smells like Scarlett. I noticed it when she first got in my rental car, and I swear I flashed back to Christmas at my grandparents’ house when I was a kid.

I have a big family, lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, and Christmas is always a rowdy affair at my grandparents’ house in Bray, Ireland. They’re in their eighties now, but they still host every year. My grandma always has a half dozen fresh Christmas trees, and every year for the whole month of December, their house smells like heaven—like home. Like Scarlett.

Caitlin runs ahead, but James holds my hand and walks beside me down the stairs. We catch up with Caitlin and walk into the kitchen just as Scarlett sets a plate of buttered bread on the table. It’s hard not to notice how exhausted she looks, but she immediately straightens her shoulders and schools her face into a wide smile when the kids walk in. It’s impressive, but I hate that she’s clearly well-practiced.

“Who’s hungry? It’s broccoli cheddar soup—I hope that’s okay. We do a lot of soup when it’s cold,” she tells me, and my stomach actually grumbles.

“That sounds grand. I’m not used to Canadian winters.”

She laughs, sliding a bowl in front of me as I take a seat. The soup smells rich and garlicky, and exactly what I need after today.

Caitlin grabs a handful of shredded cheese from a bowl at the center of the table and sprinkles it on top of her bowl. “Mama, can we do ‘favorite thing’?”

“Of course we can. Why don’t you tell Killian how it works?”

“We go around the table and everyone says what their favorite part of the day was. Mama always makes us do it when we’ve had a bad day, but we do it on good days too sometimes. Like today,” Caitlin explains, and I watch Scarlett’s expression flicker when she says today has been a good day.

It’s a testament to what kind of parent she is that her kids have no idea how stressed she clearly is—in general, but especially today. I’ve only spent a few hours with her, but I can already tell what an incredible mom she is.

“Can I go first?” Caitlin asks, and Scarlett barely gets a nod out before she continues. “My favorite part of today was hanging out with Aunt Piper. And when we watched Super Ponies this morning. And meeting Killian.”

“Meeting Killian is my favorite, too,” James adds.

How is it possible that these two already have such a chokehold on me?

“My favorite part of the day was getting to meet you all,” I tell them, even if I can’t quite believe it’s true, considering why I came here.

“Mama?” James asks Scarlett.

“My favorite part is right here, right now.”

“You always say that!”

“And I always will,” she promises, reaching across the table to ruffle Caitlin’s hair. “Spending time with you will always be my favorite thing.”

And exhausted though she may be, I have no doubt she means it.

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