Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Sara
“My house,” Three says, looking down at his phone.
I scrunch up my nose. “What about your house?”
“Take me to my house. Please.” He nods at the road ahead of us. “Once we’re across the lake, stay on Bridge Street. I’ll give you directions from there.”
“Hold on.” I scoff. “Didn’t we just reach a settlement? I’m not dropping you off until Christmas Eve. We’ve got all the leftovers at the lake house. And the pie. And the tree. And have you forgotten about poor Henry?”
“I’ll never forget about Henry. But …”
“But what?”
“The clothes Ford packed for me are going to run out. I just need to grab a few things. Like socks and shirts and underwear.”
“Fine.” I glance at him. “I guess I can’t deny a man clean boxers.”
“Who says I wear boxers?” He wags his eyebrows.
“I wasn’t asking.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, but you definitely want to know.”
Spots of heat rise in my cheeks. “Whatever you say.”
“I say go past this stop sign. Then turn left.”
“Hmm. So bossy.”
“Hey.” He arches a brow. “I gave in to your settlement, didn’t I? But for the record, I still don’t like the idea of you doing so much driving on back-to-back days.”
“I’ll survive.”
“I’m also still sending a big donation along with you for you to drop off on my behalf.”
This teases a soft chuckle out of me. “What am I dropping off for you? Like … a check?”
“Maybe.” His mouth quirks.
I burst out a full-on laugh. “Are you a hundred years old or something? Channeling Big Mama?”
“If you must know, yes. I, Three Fuller, have a checkbook.” A grin breaks across his face. “I got an account to teach my students about old-school banking. Even the stuff they think they’ll never need. A lot of these kids have grandparents and great-grandparents who still send birthday money via checks. So they need to know how to deal with?—”
“I get the picture.” I shake my head, but a smile tugs at my lips. “But I still don’t know how to get to your house, so …”
“Make a right up here. And then the next left onto Reed Street. Mine’s the second house up across from the church.”
Even without the precise directions, I’d probably recognize Three’s craftsman, because I swear the house looks just like a Fuller. The trees out front are a little wild, bare branches stretching past the rooftop. The exterior is a light yellow. Like sunshine. A single chair sits on the porch. The trim is snow white, and the shutters are a Christmas red.
Three’s place is basically happiness in a house.
As I pull into his driveway, I start to feel a bit squeamish. I don’t think I’m prepared to see this grownup side of Three. Something so personal. So him . I’m trying to trust my emotions. To trust myself. But the inside of Three’s house might be too much for me to process. I can’t decide which would be worse: If there are moldy dishes in the sink and milk curdling in the fridge, or if the place is all neat and tidy and … perfect. “I’ll wait for you out here.”
“It’s too cold,” he says. “Come on in.”
“I can leave the car running. Just be quick.”
“I don’t want to feel rushed,” he says. “My clothes may even be in the dryer. I can’t remember. Just … please.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
I follow him up the steps to the porch and wait as he fishes a key out from under the mat. “Now you know how to get into my house.” He sends a smirk over his shoulder. “So if any of my underwear ever disappears, I’ll have to report you to Sheriff Bender.”
“Ha ha.” I surrender to a nervous laugh as Three unlocks the door. And I’m already trembling a little as I cross the threshold behind him and a chorus of voices shouts, “Surprise!”
“Gah!” I squeal.
Three spins around, grabbing my arm to steady me, which is a good thing, because I’m about to faint. Once he’s got me secured, he flashes a grin that could light up the entire town. “Happy birthday, Sara. One day early.”
Peering around him, I spot Kenny blowing a noisemaker. The woman with a baby strapped to her must be his wife. In front of them are four children of varying heights, some with missing teeth, all wearing party hats, blowing horns, and waving orange streamers.
“Welcome to Operation Surprise Sara,” Three says.
“Hashtag OSS,” Kenny calls out.
Three puts a hand on my lower back and guides me over to the table with a sheet cake on display. It’s My Little Pony themed, with a picture of Applejack in icing. The cups, plates, and napkins all have My Little Pony on them too. And at least a dozen sparkly orange helium balloons float around us.
“Three.” I gasp. “How?”
“It was a team effort,” Kenny chirps. I turn to him and a bright smile splits his face. “Three ordered the cake and balloons and everything else yesterday. I made the pickups and brought the stuff here while you two were at the hospital.”
The woman chuckles. “I guess that makes the kids and me ‘the stuff.’” She comes toward me and reaches for my hand. “I’m Madeline. Nice to meet you, Sara. And happy birthday.”
“Thank you so much.” I turn to Three, putting a hand to my heart, and willing my racing pulse to calm down. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
“Well, you said you always wanted a normal birthday party with balloons and cake and kids your age.” He ducks his head. “Kenny’s kids are a little young, but at one point or another, you too were three, five, seven, and nine. Just like them.”
“It’s perfect,” I manage, but my brain’s gone fizzy and lightheaded. These past few days have already been overwhelming. Add two generations of Kenny to the mix, and it’s all a lot to process. Still, the idea behind this is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.
Yes, even the My Little Pony cake.
I glance around the room taking in everything—the cake, the balloons, streamers, noisemakers, party hats. In the meantime, the kids all crowd around the table begging for cake. Madeline hovers over them. “I’m going to regret letting you rugrats have so much sugar this afternoon, but you can’t have a birthday without cake.” She takes charge, lighting the candles, then everyone sings—at high volume and gloriously off-key.
Three moves in close and my whole body warms at his proximity. “Now close your eyes, and make a wish before you blow out the candles,” he says. “But don’t tell anyone what you wish for.”
A giggle slips out of me. “Yes, I’m aware of the rules of blowing out candles, Three. I don’t live under a rock, you know.”
I shut my eyes and dig deep for the one thing I’d wish for above everything else .
I wish I could keep seeing Three Fuller after Christmas .
The kids all clap while I blow out the candles. I don’t really believe in the power of a birthday wish, but still, the moment feels pretty magical in its own way. And the truth is, I’m not ready for this reconnection with Three to be over.
Hope is scary. Terrifying, even. But a birthday party—two days before Christmas—feels like the best time to have a little faith.
While Madeline cuts and serves the cake, Kenny retrieves a gallon of rocky road from the freezer and adds a scoop to each plate. Since there aren’t enough chairs at Three’s table, the kids just plop down on the floor and everyone digs in, chatting and laughing and going back for seconds. When Three gets a smear of frosting on his lips, all I want to do is kiss it off. But unfortunately, we’re not alone.
Maybe it’s not too late to change my wish.
As if on cue, Kenny tells the kids to finish up because they have to get going.
“Already?” I ask, feeling a little guilty for wishing them away, but also a little relieved and grateful.
“We just came for cake,” he says. “Gotta get the baby home for a nap.”
“Huh.” I lift a brow. “You mean the one that’s sound asleep on Madeline?”
Kenny darts his eyes to Three then back to me. “What can I say? My kids are just born … lazy.”
“Hey!” the oldest one shouts from his seat on the floor. “I’m not lazy!” Crumbs of cake spew from his mouth.
“You’re right, Logan.” Three chuckles. “You’re not. Kenny’s just too polite to admit that I asked you to come for the surprise and for cake, but I’ve got other plans for us after.”
I swallow hard. “You do?”
His answering wink makes me blush.
As it turns out, actually getting everyone out the door takes another twenty minutes of putting away ice cream, tossing out plates, and hugging sticky faces. When Three and I come back in after walking the Monroe family out, I return to the table. More than half the sheet cake is gone now. Only half a pony left.
“Poor Applejack,” I murmur.
“You did say Applejack was your favorite, right?”
“She used to be.” I nod. “But right now, you are.”
“So you didn’t think this was all too … juvenile?” Three wrinkles his nose. “I mean, you’re used to champagne towers and caviar, and I just threw you a kid’s birthday party.”
My heart swells. “Considering this is the only one I’ve had in twenty-nine years, I couldn’t have loved it more.”
“Ahem.” Three pulls down his brow. “Excuse me, Ms. Hathaway, but I believe you won’t be twenty-nine for one more day.”
“That is true.”
“I intend to make the next twenty-four hours all about you.”
“Oh, really?” My lip twitches. “What else did you have in mind, Mr. Fuller?”
He glances at the half-eaten cake then back at me. “My mission while you’re still twenty-eight is to let you be the kid you haven’t gotten to be in … maybe forever. So we’re going to do whatever YOU want to do. I’ll even submit myself to a candy cane jigsaw puzzle. Or checkers. If you choose chess, you’ll have to teach me … but I’m game.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.” I splay my hands. “I made my decision.”
He chuckles. “Already?”
I flash him a smile, and my insides flutter. “Ice skating!”
“Wow.” Three bobs his head. “Nice choice.”
“Ever since we found that box of skates in the storage room, I’ve been thinking about how much I used to love to skate.” I dip into a prim little curtsy.
“If ice skating is what you want, then I say, yes. Let’s go. It’s been a while for me too.” His grin is dazzling, but a seam inside me splits straight down the middle .
On the one hand, skating with Three sounds even better than the birthday cake. But I can’t forget the doctor’s warning. He’s already been pushing too hard. Snowball fights, Christmas tree shopping, and spray painting are one thing. But ice skating with a man who has a concussion?
“Forget it.” I shake my head. “It wouldn’t be safe for you. We can do something else today. How about that jigsaw puzzle?”
He scoffs. “Nope, thanks. You made your pick and I’m going to make it happen. You’ll go skating, and I’ll get to watch.”
“But that’s not fair to you.”
“On the contrary,” he says. “Bringing you joy brings me joy. And based on the evidence I’ve gathered these past few days—plus some pretty spectacular memories from ten years ago—just watching you do things is pretty satisfying all on its own.” He meets my gaze, eyes locking with mine. “So what do you say, Bambi? Should we head over to the lake house and?—”
I launch myself at him, and he lets out all his breath in a whoosh. Then he gathers me in, wrapping his arms all the way around my body.
Pressed against him in a big, strong bear hug, I blink back tears. This man asks nothing of me. Expects nothing from me.
He just wants me to be happy.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Yes.”