Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“She will,” Ethan agrees. “You know how obsessed she is with babies. But it’s not the same. She’s already seven, and that age difference will mean that all the little cousins she has coming will be too young to be playmates.”
“Lilly the cousin-slash-babysitter.”
“Maybe in six or seven years.” Sighing, he shrugs. “I’m glad Noah’s around. He’s a good kid, and I’m grateful Molly lets him be a part of all this.”
As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Molly meets my eyes from across the clearing and gives a tentative smile. She’s gorgeous today. Every day. But there’s something about seeing her a little unraveled—no makeup, save for a little gloss on her lips, her hair in a sloppy bun on top of her head. When she came downstairs in a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie, I nearly tripped. Even my mom got quiet next to me. Molly couldn’t know what her appearance means to us, how important it is to everyone in my family that the people we call our own feel comfortable enough to be casual when it suits them. It’s something so minor that proves so much.
I return her smile and, while I have her attention, drag my gaze over her with slow, meaningful intensity. When I bring it back to her face, those pink cheeks have flared bright red.
“Daddy!” Lilly screeches. She stomps toward Ethan in the snow, Noah hot on her heels with his arms wrapped around his chest and his lip stuck out in a pout. “Daddy, tell Noah that Santa does not give presents to naughty kids.”
My gaze flicks to Molly, who’s gone pale, even with the frigid nip of the wind on her cheeks. She covers her mouth and her eyes go wide.
“She’s lying,” Noah says.
“Am not!” Lilly says, spinning on the poor kid. “And if you throw snow at me again, Santa won’t come.”
Ethan looks between his daughter and Molly but keeps his mouth shut while Molly jogs over to us.
“Noah said Santa brings presents to kids even if they’re naughty. Tell him that’s wrong!”
Ethan cringes, and I recognize the face of a parent who feels stuck.
I stoop and crook my finger to Lilly until she stomps closer. I lower my voice so only she can hear. “You know Santa’s going to bring you presents this year, right?”
She wrinkles her forehead, and I can see that stubborn calculation in her eyes. She doesn’t like to be wrong. “I know.”
“And be honest, kiddo, did you break the rules at all this year? Sneak an extra piece of candy from your Halloween bucket or run by the pool when your dad told you to walk?”
“Yeah, but I’m not naughty!”
I nod. “I know you’re not. In fact, you’re awesome, and I think you learn from your mistakes. I think Santa believes that too. I think Santa believes that about all kids.” I turn to Noah and signal him to join us. His bottom lip quivers, and he and his mom come over together.
Molly squats so she’s eye level with her son. “What do you have to say to Lilly?”
“Sorry I throwed snow,” he says. “I won’t do it again.”
Lilly lifts her chin and pats Noah’s head, clearly seeing this as her moment to shine as the big kid. “I forgive you, Noah.” She looks at me and then back to Noah. “And I’m sorry about what I said about Santa. I’m sure he’ll still bring you presents.”
I squeeze Lilly’s shoulder. “I think Nana is waiting for you over by the car. She needs some help pouring the hot chocolate.”
Lilly lights up. “Come on, Noah!” And they race away in a burst of flying snow and giggles.
Molly is staring at me.
“You handled that like a pro, Brayden,” Ethan says, already heading after the kids to meet them and Mom at the car. “Well done.”
I shrug, trying to read the look on Molly’s face, to understand the caution in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“Are you okay?”
She shifts that worried gaze to Noah, whose eyes are big as my mom fills his mug with hot chocolate from the canister she brought. “I’m fine.”
I want to wrap my arms around her, to reassure her that whatever has her upset will be okay. But my family is watching. She doesn’t want them to see us together like that, and I hate it.
Molly
“Why have you never been married?” I ask Brayden Sunday night in bed.
“Why have you never been married?”
I huff out a breath. “I think that’s pretty obvious.” I pull back so I can see his face, but he’s completely serious.
I should be exhausted. I’ve been Christmas tree hunting on only a few hours of sleep, followed by meetings with three different couples interested in having receptions at the Jackson Brews Banquet Center, and then spent an evening decorating at the Jackson family cabin—because Noah was floating when we were invited and, honestly, I didn’t want to say no. I got Noah in bed later than usual and should have fallen right into my own bed after, but instead, I found myself naked in Brayden’s room.