Chapter 4
LILLIAN
We’ve found a tree, and Lucas is still hanging around.
I walk back to the duo. Poppy and Lucas are laughing about something. The sight warms my heart. I stand about six feet away, watching them from behind.
I know that I chose to have Poppy on my own but sometimes it gets really lonely. My family didn’t like that I chose to be a single mom instead of my other options.
I knew I wanted to be a mom eventually, with or without a partner by my side.
Poppy’s dad didn’t want to be a parent and it was an amicable split.
He signed his rights over and I’ve been the only parent Poppy has ever known.
My family didn’t agree with my choice and unfortunately, I’m also the only family Poppy has as well.
Seeing how easily she has opened up to Lucas makes me wonder if she realizes we’re not like her friends’ families.
Would she be okay with me dating?
I was concerned this would be too much too fast, for both Lucas and Poppy.
I watch the two of them laugh just a moment longer before I interrupt them.
I scoop up a small ball of freshly fallen snow and throw the snowball towards Lucas.
It hits him square in the chest and his face finds mine amongst the glow of the stringed lights and the light snowfall.
Poppy shouts “snowball fight” as her little hands try to quickly pick up snow.
“It’s on,” Lucas hollers as scoops up Poppy and ducks behind a tree.
After many snowballs all three of us are soaking wet and full of laughter. Lucas ushers us towards the warmth of the market stalls for some cocoa. It’s almost dinner time.
“You ladies sit here and I’ll grab the hot chocolate. Poppy, do you have the tickets?” She pulls a few damp tickets out of her coat pocket and places them in his hand. He thanks her and heads off.
“I like him,” Poppy states as she pulls a candy cane out of her other pocket.
This kid and her sweet tooth.
“Oh really?” I watch as Lucas walks to one of the stalls and gets three mugs of the steaming beverage.
His golden blonde hair shimmers under all the Christmas lights, and his grin is infectious.
Everyone stops him to chat or say hi as he tries to make his way back to us.
The snow hasn’t quite stopped, and looks like it’s accumulating around us. We should probably start to head back.
“He’s silly,” Poppy says right before Lucas returns to our table.
We all sip our hot chocolate before an older woman with white hair and thick glasses approaches our table. She’s wearing a bright red down coat and a fuzzy Santa hat. She looks familiar. Before I can figure out how I know her, Lucas stands to greet her with a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Ladies, this is my mother, Cecelia Wright.”
“Nice to meet you,” Poppy and I both reply. The woman smiles warmly and goes in for a hug. She smells of cinnamon and buttery vanilla, sort of like a snickerdoodle cookie.
“I just came over to tell Lucas that there was an accident and a few trees fell over the main road. Unfortunately, they’re not going to be able to get it cleared tonight. So, you three are stuck here in town.”
I feel panic rise in my chest, my throat dry. The dollar signs start to bounce around my skull.
“Are there any hotels nearby?” I set my hot cocoa down and pull my phone out. I try to look up hotels within a five-mile radius, but everything is well over two hundred dollars for a night.
Stupid popular Christmas market.
I can’t afford that right now. I still have the car, and we just got the tree.
I feel the tears start to prickle at the corners of my eyes when Lucas squeezes my hand. The small action grounds me, and I feel relief when he says, “It’ll be okay.”
Maybe it’s because he’s a doctor. Maybe it’s because he’s been nothing but kind since we met. But for some reason, my gut believes him.
“You can stay with us up at the house,” Cecelia interjects. “Lucas has his room, and Poppy can stay with the other grandkids. Come on up after dinner here in the markets. There’s an excellent Swedish meatball stand you have got to try.” She whispers something to Lucas and then waves goodbye to us.
“We get to have a sleepover with Lucas?” Poppy asks.
“It looks that way,” Lucas murmurs as his eyes hold mine, “if your mom is okay with it.”
“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” I try to sound upbeat. “Sleepover it is,” I clasp my hands together. “Let’s get some food.”
We trek through the market and grab meatballs, noodles, mini cheeseburger sliders, and a lot of cookies at Poppy’s request. The whole time, my stomach is uneasy.
The questions keep cycling in my mind. Why didn’t Lucas tell me this is his family’s farm? What exactly are the sleeping arrangements? Why are my palms so sweaty? And why can’t I stop watching Lucas’s hands?
I can’t seem to think of any answers.