Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Mac gives a very serious nod. “That is the perfect spot. You want a special ornament to have that kind of location.”
Special ornament. Yes, Mac has something up her sleeve.
Fable smiles at Mac with a twinkle in her hazel eyes. “Exactly what I was thinking too.”
Mac bobs a shoulder. “We’re both kind of brilliant.”
Fable inclines her head Mac’s way. “Kind of? I would say we are brilliant.”
“No lies detected,” Mac agrees.
My chest floods with a warmth that spreads to my bones. But it’s not fatherly pride exactly. It’s more…familial pride. And it feels damn good.
Oh fuck.
No. This can’t happen. I can’t get caught up in this homey feeling. I can’t let this cozy morning take over my entire being like it’s threatening to do. This is merely a fun little moment in our reindeer games. That’s all.
I have to remind myself that this—the three of us hanging ornaments—isn’t my new future. It’s merely an item on today’s agenda.
I do my best to shake off the feelings as Fable positions the ornament while Mac brings the camera to her eye. “Dad, stand a little closer,” she says.
Yep. She’s mistletoe-ing us again, trying to get us together. I chuckle to myself over her efforts. Still, I’ll pretty much take any chance I can get to be near Fable. I slide next to her and reach for her hand, and we lift the ornament together. I cover her hand with mine.
Snap, snap, snap.
“Perfect,” Mac states.
And for a moment, everything feels terribly, completely perfect.
Best to let go.
I jerk my hand away and hunt around for something to make light of the moment. Like, say, teasing Mac. “So, was that like when you engineered the mistletoe?”
Her mouth falls open. She’s utterly aghast. “Dad!”
I can’t help it. I crack up. Fable’s clearly fighting off a grin too. “So you hung it?” Fable asks.
“He wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Mac says, indignant, then she shoots me a look that says she can’t believe I busted her.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m the worst.”
“Yes, you are,” Mac says.
Fable walks over to Mac. “Let me tell you something—the mistletoe was an excellent touch,” she says, then she shoots me a flirty look. “I very much approved of it.”
Thump, thump, thump.
Mac beams. “So it was a good party for you too?” she asks, but not in that lawyer-leading-the-witness voice. It’s said in a hopeful tone.
Oh, wait.
This isn’t merely Mac playing amateur matchmaker. Is she getting ideas? That this could be more than fake? I don’t want to disappoint her. Yes, I brought her in on it, but I never imagined she’d want it to be real.
Like you do.
I shake that thought off too. I have to stop this train before it leaves the station. “Mac,” I cut in before Fable can answer my daughter. “Why don’t you get ready for the sledding competition?”
She heaves a sigh but then shrugs. “Okay.”
She’s out of there, racing toward the cabin she’s sharing with the other kids. I scramble to take control of the day, the situation, everyone’s emotions. Mostly my own. With a fortifying breath, I look to Fable and say curtly, “You don’t have to go.”
If I see her at the sledding competition cheering on my daughter, it might do even more dangerous things to my heart.
But she must not care about my tone since she pats my chest. “You silly man. I want to.”
She spins on her heel and leaves, leaving me with these foolish holiday wishes.
We pack my car, the late morning air crisp and cold, the sun rising higher in the sky. “I can hardly wait for the competition,” Mac gushes. “I’m trained and ready.”
“You sure sound like you are,” Fable says. “But remember, winning isn’t everything. Just have fun.”
I blanch. “What did you say?”
Mac scoffs. “It’s not?”
As she slides into the front seat, Fable rolls her eyes and points to me. “You,” she says, a playful accusation. “This is all your doing.”
Mac laughs. “Just kidding, Fable. I know how to have fun. But I do want to practice. Practice is so important.”
As she buckles into the backseat, Fable looks to me and whispers, “She’s just like you.”
My heart thunders annoyingly over how dead on Fable is with her assessment. “She is,” I say softly, loving how seamlessly Fable fits in and how easily she understands my daughter and me.
Settle down. It’s temporary.
Well, no shit. Of course I know that. I mean she fits in well…temporarily.
That’s what I tell myself as we drive. We cruise through downtown, passing the shops on Main Street. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the toy shop, Play All Day. I need to stop in there later for something, when I can grab a minute alone.
We arrive at the sledding hill on the outskirts of Evergreen Falls. Families and individuals are already here, setting up their sleds, laughing, and chatting. Mac excitedly points out some of her friends and cousins who have also come for the competition.