Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Rourke
I wake up to two of the best smells in the world: fresh-brewed coffee and bacon on the stove.
When I lean against the kitchen doorway, I take a few moments to soak in the sight of her: Janie is cracking eggs into a bowl next to the stove, her hair still damp from the shower, teasing me in an oversized sweatshirt with a pair of shorts barely peeking out from under the hem.
A smile plays on her lips like all is right in her world—not like a woman who was nearly sick with worry last night.
She’s humming a Christmas song softly under her breath.
I clear my throat, and she whirls around with a smile that makes her whole face glow.
“Hey,” she murmurs. “How did you sleep?”
“Like I slept in a chair holding a baby,” I admit, stretching my neck. “But it was worth it. How’s our little patient?”
I walk over to Aria, who’s in her highchair cheerfully tossing Cheerios off the tray. When she sees me, she gives me a bright smile.
“Much better. Back to her usual destructive self.” As if to prove her point, Aria launches a handful of cereal at me with near-perfect aim.
“Good girl,” I tell her, catching one and tossing it into my mouth. “Keep practicing that shot. You’ll make a great hockey player someday.”
Janie laughs. “Don’t encourage her.”
“And you?” I ask, accepting the mug of steaming coffee she offers. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than I have in a long time.” For a moment, her eyes graze across my bare chest. Instead of looking away in embarrassment, she lets her gaze linger before her attention flicks to mine with a small smile. “Thank you. For last night. For everything.”
I steal a slice of bacon from the cooling plate, which earns me a warning glare from Janie. “Okay, bacon thief, want some eggs to go with that?”
“If you don’t mind,” I say, sipping the coffee.
“I’d love to. Though you might want to put on a shirt before Aria starts using your abs as Cheerio target practice.”
This teasing is a small change in her comfort level, but it feels significant, like she’s finally getting used to the idea of us.
Setting down my cup, I come up behind her as she cracks an egg into the frying pan and wrap my arms around her waist. I rest my chin on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, which smells like Christmas in a bottle—vanilla and cinnamon.
“Hey, you’re distracting me,” she protests, shifting her face slightly so I can see the tilt of her mouth, the way her eyelashes flutter for a second.
“Fair’s fair, Bennett,” I murmur against her hair.
“You distract me every time you’re near, so now it’s my turn.
” Her body goes soft in my arms as she melts against me, and I realize this is what Saturday mornings should feel like—her body against mine, the sound of breakfast cooking, drinking her in.
“So,” I say, lowering my lips to the curve of her neck. “I was thinking we should probably do something about that giant tree sitting naked in our living room.”
She turns in my arms, eyebrows raised. “Naked?”
“You know what I mean.” I keep my arms around her as she struggles to focus on breakfast. “That poor white pine is probably feeling very exposed right now.”
“Are we talking about the tree or you?” she teases, flipping the eggs, glancing over her shoulder with a rueful smile.
“Definitely the tree. I’m very comfortable with my level of exposure.”
She laughs, and I can feel the vibration of it against my chest. “Okay, Riley, we can decorate the tree today. But I should warn you—I take Christmas decorating very seriously.”
“How seriously are we talking?”
“There’s a system,” she says, sliding the eggs onto a plate and turning off the heat. “Strict rules about color coordination and ornaments being evenly spaced.”
I lower my mouth to her ear. “Does it involve wrapping me in lights again?” I ask in a gravelly voice. “Because there’s no point otherwise.”
She flips around and looks up under dark lashes. “Only if I’m wrapped up in them too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Then we’d better start now,” I say, sweeping her off her feet.
“Rourke…” she gasps. “What about breakfast?”
“Forget breakfast,” I say, carrying her into the living room. “Christmas decorating is way more important.”
An hour later, we’re in the living room surrounded by boxes of decorations, Aria in a jumper seat while Janie sorts through a box of decorations.
“These go on first,” she explains, holding up a box of simple gold balls. “Then we add the special ones.” She pulls out a tiny ceramic angel with “Baby’s First Christmas” painted on it.
“My mom got this for Aria before she was even born,” she says, letting it twirl in her fingers. “Last Christmas I couldn’t even enjoy it.” A shadow crosses her face.
“Hey,” I say, crouching next to her. “What is it?”
“Nothing, just…” She shrugs, trying to brush it off.
“Things were so different last Christmas. Nick had already moved out, and I was very pregnant, trying to put up a tree by myself and crying all over the decorations because I was hormonal and newly divorced. I gave up on the tree and then ended up driving to my parents’ house two hours away so I wouldn’t have to do Christmas alone. ”
I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching the memory flicker across her face.
“I can’t take away what happened last year,” I murmur. “But I can promise you this Christmas will be different.”
She studies the ornament in her hand. “A year ago I couldn’t imagine celebrating anything. Now I can’t imagine Christmas without you.” She meets my gaze. “But only if I can give you new memories too.”
And I know exactly what she means. The Christmases where my dad was drunk, ruining the day. All the arguments and returned gifts and disappointment.
She wants to replace those memories, offering something other than what I always had—unmet expectations and family dysfunction.
She leans forward and kisses me slowly, like a promise I’ve been too afraid to believe anymore. But I can’t help myself now—I want this too, anything that gives me hope that I can be a better man than my father was.
As I tangle my hand in her hair, I angle my lips against hers, sliding my arms around her waist as I lean back, bringing her with me until we’re both lying on the floor, surrounded by scattered decorations and the warm glow of twinkling lights.
I press one last kiss to her forehead. “You know I’m still not a Christmas person, right? Even if I really love making this kind of Christmas memory with you.”
“I know,” she whispers, her fingers tracing my jaw. “I can wait.”
“And all this holiday stuff? I’m doing it because it makes you smile. Making you happy has become my new favorite thing.”
“Rourke,” she says, squeezing my hand. “You being here with us is the best gift we could ask for.”
“Speaking of gifts,” I say, suddenly remembering what’s hidden in my closet. “I have something to give you.” I jump to my feet, ignoring her confused frown.
“Right now?”
“Don’t move,” I call over my shoulder. “And close your eyes.”
“Rourke Riley, what are you up to?”
“Just trust me, Bennett.”
In my closet, wrapped and waiting, are two packages. I grab them both, hiding them behind my back as I return to find Janie playing with Aria. “You can open your eyes now.”
“What’s going on?” She tilts her head.
“Presents for you and Aria.” I pull out Aria’s gift first. “These can’t wait until Christmas.”
She shakes her head, confused. “But…it’s too early.”
“Too early? I thought you wanted me to have more Christmas spirit.” I know she can’t argue with this. “So no complaints about me spoiling my girls.”
She stares at me, fighting a smile. “Dang it, Riley. If you keep saying stuff like that, I’m never letting you go.”
“That’s the idea, Bennett.” I hold out Aria’s gift bag.
As soon as she sees a soft brown ear peeking out, she reaches for it. With Janie’s help, she pulls out a teddy bear wearing a custom-made Crushers hockey jersey—complete with the number 18 on the back.
“What do you think, Aria?” I hold it up for her. “I thought if I couldn’t get your mommy to wear my jersey, maybe I could convince you?”
Janie lifts an eyebrow. “Are you seriously trying to recruit Aria into the Crushers’ hockey empire?”
“Someone’s got to teach her good taste,” I say. “I figure if I start with her, you might eventually come around. Especially if I start her on the ice when she’s a toddler.”
“Rourke,” she says. “I can’t even stand up on skates.”
“Yet,” I correct. “But I’m planning on changing that. Right after I convince you to wear my jersey to a game.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it, that pink blush creeping across her cheeks. No argument this time—that’s progress.
I hold out the next gift. “For you.”
She takes the white box with a velvet red bow and unties it. She lifts the lid, and for a second, stares at the gift inside. “It’s the ornament…” she whispers. “From the Christmas festival.”
“I wanted you to have it early so you could put it on the tree.”
Her brow knits before she glances up. “But how did you get this?”
“I bought it when you were shopping for Aria. I wanted to surprise you with it.”
She takes out the glass star and holds it in the air. The ornament catches the light, casting tiny beams around the room.
I study her face, how she’s gone completely silent. “Janie…is something wrong? If you don’t like it—”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not that. I love it so much. It’s just…” Her throat bobs. “I don’t understand—I thought you hated that festival. The crowds, me dragging you from booth to booth. I thought you couldn’t wait to get away from the place.”
“Janie,” I say, pulling her into my arms. “I did feel that way at first. But when I saw you hold up that ornament and smile…I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life trying to put that look on your face again.”
Her eyes flick from the ornament to me, like it’s finally sinking in.
“Seeing your joy…” My arms tighten around her. “Was like finding what had been missing my whole life.”
“Rourke—” She shakes her head. “This is the most beautiful gift anyone’s ever given me.” Then her face crumples slightly. “And here I am, the woman who supposedly loves Christmas more than anything, and I haven’t even gotten you a single present yet.”
“You don’t have to get me anything.” I rest my cheek against her hair. “You are my favorite gift.”
“Come on,” she insists. “I bet you can think of something.”
“Well, there is this one thing…”
“What?”
I hesitate, knowing once I say this out loud, there’s no taking it back. “The Crushers Christmas party is coming up…and I need a date.”
“Rourke Riley…” She draws back enough to meet my expression head-on. “Are you asking me out? Like, for real?”
“Yes. But that means stepping into my crazy world.” I search her face, needing her to understand the weight of what I’m asking. “Once we walk in there together, there’s no hiding what this is.”
She’s quiet for a moment before a smile pulls at her mouth. “If I say yes, does this mean I’ve lost the bet?”
“Oh, Bennett…” I brush a finger along her sleeve. “I lost that bet the moment I realized I was completely gone for you.”
“Then I’ll gladly throw out the whole bet,” she says, grinning as she loops an arm around my neck, “if it means I get a Christmas date with you.”
“That’s fair,” I say with a nod. “But this date comes with one serious drawback you should know about upfront.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s going to be next to impossible to spend the entire night with you and not kiss you in front of my teammates.”
“And that’s a problem because…?” She lifts an eyebrow.
“Because they’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
She tips her face to me. “Rourke, I’m a kindergarten teacher who manages twenty-two terrors. I’m not afraid of a bunch of hockey players.” She pats my arm.
“And one more thing—” I glance over at Aria who’s playing with her new bear. “When we get tired of the party, can I take you somewhere else afterward?”
“Where?”
“The arena.” I wait for her reaction. “Listen, I know you’re not ready to attend a game yet. But I thought this could be a first step toward showing you my world.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Like a private lesson?”
“Exactly like that.” I bring her hand to my lips. “So, what do you say? Will you let me show you why I fell in love with hockey?”
“I might be convinced…with the right kind of persuasion.” Her smile turns playful as she pulls back slightly and holds up the ornament. “But first, can I put my gift on the tree?”
“That’s why I bought it for you,” I say, reaching for Aria. I pick her up and she settles against my shoulder with her new teddy bear.
When Janie turns and sees us, she stops.
“Wait right there,” she says, fumbling for her phone in her pocket. “Don’t move. I want to remember this moment.”
She snaps several photos, then studies them to make sure we weren’t blinking and Aria was looking the right direction. “These are going to be my new favorite pictures.”
I reach out and tug her closer with my free arm, pulling her into us until we’re a complete circle. “Now get in here. We need one with all three of us.”
She fits snugly against my side and wraps one arm around my waist. I take her phone and stretch my arm out, angling it to capture our little family framed by twinkling lights and the Christmas tree behind us.
This is for her. For me. For all the new memories we’re making together.
When we finish, she gives me the kind of hug that says thank you without any words.
“Now only one more thing to do.” She turns toward the tree, rising onto her tiptoes to hang the ornament near the top of the tree.
But I’m not watching the ornament anymore, I’m watching her.
Some moments are meant to be captured on a phone while others are meant to be experienced firsthand. Lived in real time. Replayed in our memory, where they’ll live forever.
This is one of those moments.