Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
FINN
I shift my weight from foot to foot, a subtle ache in my leg even though the bone has finally healed, allowing me to return to work full time. For the first time since I left the army and joined the fire department, I considered walking away. Doing something safer. After all, I’m going to be a father.
But Genevieve wouldn’t hear of it. She knows I always dreamed of being a firefighter, even as a little boy. Plus, she refused to spend the rest of her life with someone who complained about their job.
I didn’t think it was possible to fall even more in love with her. But since she showed up at the hospital and finally admitted her feelings, I’ve learned anything’s possible. And every day, I find another reason to love her even more.
The scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider surrounds me, mingling with the sweet aroma of pine drifting from the towering Norway spruce as I make my way through the crowds at Holley Ridge’s annual Christmas Festival.
A few months ago, I wouldn’t have given this scene much thought. Now, though? Now I can’t stop watching her.
Genevieve stands by the ice skating rink talking to Dylan, her laughter rising above the sounds of holiday music and the occasional scrape of skate blades against ice. Twinkling Christmas lights reflect in her eyes, making them shine even brighter, and the cold has left her cheeks pink, her breath curling in soft clouds with every exhale.
It’s not just the holiday glow that has me mesmerized.
It’s the way her hand drifts absentmindedly to her belly, cradling the small curve beneath her wool coat, a silent reminder that, in a matter of months, the girl who’s been my best friend my entire life will give birth to our daughter.
Our daughter.
Since finding out the gender a few weeks ago, I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of money on baby clothes, much to Genevieve’s dismay. She keeps telling me the baby will practically live in onesies and pajamas for the first few months, but I can’t help myself. Every tiny dress, every pair of ruffled socks… I want them all. It’s a strange feeling, considering not that long ago, I was perfectly content living the single life.
Finding that damn list of sperm donors changed everything. And I couldn’t be happier.
“You are a lifesaver,” Genevieve says when I approach, her eyes focused on the two steaming cups in my hands. “I’ve been craving hot chocolate since we got here.”
“Anything for you.” I give her one, my fingers brushing against hers for a second longer than necessary.
“Where’s mine?” Dylan asks as I’m about to take a sip.
“Do you really want one?”
She gives me a sly smile. “I’ll grab one myself in a bit. Or maybe go steal some of Beckham’s mulled wine.”
“He says it’s a good batch,” I say, sipping on my drink.
As much as I enjoy the wine my brother makes, I decided to give up drinking during Genevieve’s pregnancy.
Plus, she’s unusually sensitive to the smell of alcohol. I came home after having one beer at Jude’s brewery early on in the pregnancy and she made me sleep on the couch, the stench too strong for her.
After that, I decided it wasn’t worth it. I’d much rather share a bed with the woman I love than have a few drinks with friends.
A familiar squeal cuts through the air and I look at the rink. Presley and Jeremiah are bundled in puffy coats and skates, their hands gripping onto a woman I don’t recognize.
She’s young, early to mid-twenties, with dark hair spilling from beneath a knit beanie. Her soft laughter rings through the air as she guides Jeremiah across the ice, letting him cling to her arm as he wobbles and nearly face-plants, all while still keeping a close eye on Presley.
“Who’s that?” I ask Dylan, my brows scrunched.
“Her name’s Rowan,” my sister responds casually. “She’s the new nanny.”
I blink. “The what?”
“I hired her last week to watch Presley and Jeremiah.”
I arch a disbelieving brow. “And Hayden’s okay with that?”
Dylan shrugs. “I didn’t really give him a choice.” Her voice is light, but there’s something firm beneath it. “I love those kids, but I’ve been putting my own needs second for too long. Between working for Jude at the brewery and helping with Hayden’s kids, I haven’t pursued anything for myself. And that’s going to change.”
I tilt my head, studying the determined set of her jaw. “How so?”
Her eyes gleam with excitement. “Eden and I are starting a personal chef service. There’s a huge demand for it, especially being so close to Tahoe. I’m finally taking a risk and doing something for myself.”
I grab her hand, squeezing it. “I’m happy for you.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Genevieve chimes in.
“It’s scary, but if it’s not scary, it’s not worth it. Right?” I look down at Genevieve, and our eyes meet. A quiet understanding passes between us.
“The best things in life usually are,” she murmurs, her voice softer now.
I start to lower my lips to hers, but the sound of a commotion cuts through.
I snap my attention back to the rink just in time to see Rowan lose her balance. She tries to catch herself, arms flailing, but her skates betray her, and she crashes onto the ice with a surprised yelp.
Hayden, who had been watching from the sidelines, moves before I fully process what’s happening. One second, he’s standing stiffly with his hands shoved into his coat pockets. The next, he’s on the ice, crouched beside Rowan, his expression unreadable.
Almost…panicked.
“Hmm,” Genevieve muses, a knowing smile curving her lips.
I frown. “What?”
“She has him so rattled,” Dylan answers for her.
I watch as Hayden helps Rowan back to her feet, but doesn’t immediately let go. Instead, he seems to study every inch of her face.
Then he jumps back, almost losing his balance. He shakes his head and turns away, but Rowan watches him for a beat longer, like she’s trying to figure him out.
“I’m going to grab some mulled wine,” Dylan announces, pushing off the fence. “Do you need anything?” she asks Genevieve.
“I’m fine.”
“Good.” She squeezes her shoulder, then starts toward the rows of stalls filled with locals selling various holiday-themed items.
“What about me?” I call out after her. “You didn’t ask me if I needed anything.”
“You’re not turning food into a human. Get it yourself.” She playfully flips me the bird, and I feign indignation.
“There are children around, Dylan.”
“That’s why all I did was flip you off.” She throws a wink my way before disappearing into the crowd.
I glance around, taking in the familiar scene — the towering spruce, the makeshift North Pole, the glow of soft lights reflecting off the lake.
I’ve come to the Holley Ridge Christmas Festival every year for as long as I can remember.
But this year?
This year feels different.
Because this will be the last year it’ll be just Genevieve and me.
Next year, we’ll have our daughter bundled in a tiny coat. Watching the lights with wide, curious eyes. Meeting Santa for the first time.
“Claire did a great job,” I say, admiring the cozy wonderland around us. “The place looks like something off a Hallmark card.”
“She did. Didn’t she?” Genevieve’s voice softens with pride.
While Parker, the owner of Holley Ridge, typically planned every single detail of the annual Holley Ridge Holiday Festival, this year she handed off most of the planning to Claire as the new head of marketing, which allowed Parker to not work every waking hour of the day.
“She was definitely nervous, considering she has big shoes to fill. But she’s a smart girl. Smarter than she gives herself credit for.”
“Who’s that with her?” I lift my cup for a sip, nodding toward the pair walking along the snow-dusted path beside the lake.
Claire’s bundled in a red coat and knit hat, cheeks flushed from the cold. The man next to her is tall, all crisp lines and tailored edges. He walks like he owns whatever room, or snowy festival, he steps into.
“I’ve never seen him before.”
Genevieve follows my line of sight. “That’s Joshua’s dad, Declan.”
I arch a brow. “His dad?”
Over the years of my friendship with Genevieve, I’ve spent time with Claire’s on-again, off-again boyfriend turned close friend, and know he grew up without a father much like Claire and Genevieve. But unlike with Claire and Genevieve, his father didn’t intentionally abandon him. Instead, Joshua was the result of a one-night stand his mother had with a guy she met during a weekend trip to San Diego who was there on shore leave from the navy.
“Apparently he did one of those DNA ancestry things and got a notification he had a close familial match. His father. So he reached out and they agreed to meet.”
I study the man again. Slate gray overcoat, leather gloves, the kind of man who probably has a personal tailor and regular massage appointments.
“So that’s Joshua’s dad?”
“That’s what I said,” Genevieve sings in response.
“Interesting.”
She tilts her head, her brow furrowed. “What is?”
I lean closer so no one can overhear. “Because he’s not looking at Claire like she’s his son’s ex-girlfriend.”
“What are you talking about?”
“And she’s not looking at him like he’s her ex-boyfriend’s dad.”
“From the guy who couldn’t see his own brother eye-fucking the new nanny.” She rolls her eyes as she brings her cup to her lips. “There’s nothing going on between Claire and Declan.”
“Trust me on this.” I take a satisfied sip of my hot cocoa.
She opens her mouth, ready to fire back, then pauses. Her gaze drifts toward Claire and Declan again, and I know she sees it now. The extra beat their eyes hold. The way Claire’s laughter is a touch too breathless. How Declan stands just a little too close, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
“He…” Genevieve trails off.
“What?” I nudge. “Finally realizing I’m right?”
“No, I just…” She shifts beside me, placing a hand on her stomach. “Oh, wow.”
I straighten immediately, my heart thudding, all thoughts of Claire and Joshua’s father disappearing. “What is it? Are you okay?”
She exhales, adjusting again, then grabs my gloved hand and presses it to her stomach. “Hold it there.”
At first, I feel nothing.
Then a small, but insistent nudge pokes against my palm. A tiny, deliberate kick, like a secret message from the life we created.
“That’s… That’s her?” My voice is rough, barely a whisper.
She nods, her eyes shining. “That’s her.”
A slow exhale leaves me. I’ve seen her during an ultrasound, watched the flickering heartbeat, but this?
This is real in a way I wasn’t prepared for. A living, breathing piece of us. Of the love we share.
I slip off my glove, desperate to feel her without layers between us.
And our little girl delivers.
“That’s…incredible.” I press my forehead to hers, my voice thick. “You’re incredible. I love you so damn much, Genevieve. You and little bean. Our little family.”
She sighs into me. “Our little family.”