Chapter 19
“I…I don’t know what to say.” Tears cling to my eyelashes as I try not to full-on sob.
I knew the Andersens would host a lovely Christmas, but what I didn’t expect was for me and Everly to be so organically included.
The morning started when the girls popped their eyes open and raced through the house to see if Santa stopped at Lucky Spurs Ranch.
St. Nick not only stopped, but unloaded his sleigh beneath the decked-out, massive evergreen in the living room.
Everly was showered with gifts and affection. I feel like the Grinch when his heart grows three sizes, witnessing my daughter experience her first magical Christmas. Now here I sit in the semi-circle of people around the dazzling tree, with tears running down my cheeks.
My lap and the carpet surrounding me are covered with gifts. Gifts for me.
An adorable drawing from Harper, which I’ll cherish endlessly. A pair of stunning cowboy boots, a canvas ranch jacket, and new Wranglers from Olivia, Izzy, and Delilah.
Cecelia even made stockings for me and Everly, that overflowed with goodies, tchotchkes, and novelties, hung with care beside the rest of the family’s on the mantle.
“You don’t have to say anything.” Delilah comforts sweetly, sitting in Connor’s lap.
“You’re a part of the ranch and we want you to feel comfortable when you’re here riding,” Izzy adds, nestled between Reid’s outstretched legs.
“I…” The tears overwhelm my ability to speak and Olivia crawls across the half-circle to give me an awkward hug.
“Mama! Why’re you crying? This is the best Christmas EVER!” Everly exclaims.
That little girl’s in hog heaven. She’s stuffed full of Cecelia’s cinnamon rolls, bacon, and eggs, downed two hot chocolates, and is decked out in dress-up clothes and costume jewelry.
If I feel spoiled, it’s nothing compared to my daughter. I didn’t count, but I’d venture a guess she got nearly as many presents as Harper.
“They’re happy tears, baby,” I assure her, the gentle soul that she is. I pat her bottom and shoo her away to play in the den with her bestie.
"If that’s the last of the presents, let’s get this mess cleaned up.” Cecelia motions to Walter who gets up without question.
He returns with a large trash bag that the boys fill with torn wrapping paper, shiny bows, and errant packaging. I help the girls make neat piles of gifts for each person around the tree.
“It’s somethin’ else, isn’t it?” Greyson startles me, my hand pressed to my racing heart.
“Hmm?”
“An Andersen Christmas. It’s somethin’ else,” he repeats.
“It is,” I agree. “I’m blown away by their kindness and generosity. Everly said it best. This is the best Christmas she, or I, have ever had.”
Greyson nods, and not for the first time, leaves me dying to know what he’s thinking.
“You’re a really good dad, Greyson. I hope you know that.” I settle on the sofa nearest the fireplace.
Hands in his pockets, Greyson widens his stance and frowns at me. “Alright.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Is that so hard to hear?”
“No. Just don’t know where it’s comin’ from.” His brows furrow deeper.
“From watching you with Harper today.” His face is a stone mask, so I continue.
“I don’t know when you found the time, but you got all the toys Harper’s been gushing over.
Even one I only remember her mentioning once, months ago.
You wrapped them yourself, with cute little From Santa tags and everything.
Then today, you woke up at the crack of dawn when the girls’ eyes popped open, with no complaint.
You built the toys, installed the batteries, played on the floor…
you even danced with the kids to Christmas music… ” I taper off.
Greyson relents and sits a cushion away from me on the couch.
“So, I’m a good dad for doing the bare minimum?” he asks dryly.
“No! I’m trying to give you a compliment,” I rush out, heat rising in my face.
He stretches a solid arm on the back of the couch and crosses his leg, resting his ankle on his knee. The Christmas socks Cecelia put in his stocking are unabashedly on display.
“I take it Carter didn’t do the bare minimum?” he asks, pointedly.
I huff a derisive laugh. “The only time Carter did anything kind for anyone was if it benefited him. A docile wife and adorable daughter were useful for Christmas cards, company parties, and not much else. Otherwise we were in his way. I shielded Everly from as much as I could, and thankfully, her age protected her from understanding the less obvious mistreatment.”
Greyson simmers, nostrils flaring with controlled deep breathing, teeth grinding, cracking his knuckles until they bleach white.
“And your dad?” he bites out.
I don’t think about my parents often, let alone talk about them.
“My parents weren’t cut out for parenthood. Charlie and I used to wonder why they even had us if we were such a kink in their lifestyle.” My lips twitch from sorrow, and I bite the inside of my mouth to regain composure.
“They were wanderers, chronically dissatisfied and unsettled. I lost count how many times we moved growing up, not including before I have memories. When you move that frequently, not much comes with you from place to place. The only time I saw holiday decorations was at school or on TV. As you can imagine there weren’t many special meals, gifts, or acknowledgment.
They fed us, clothed us with the basics, and made sure we had what we needed for school. ”
He rolls my childhood around in his mind, visibly agitated, not at me, but for me.
“For what it’s worth, you’re doing a hell of a job breaking the cycle, Mia. Your love and dedication to Everly shine brighter than the sun. You’re an amazing mom. You go above and beyond. You sacrifice, lose sleep, and take risks to give her a better life.”
“Thank you,” I manage. “Let’s agree that we’re both good parents and love our kids.” I chuckle. He nods deeply, eyes closed.
I know his history with Harper’s mom is fraught with tension, and by nature, I avoid confrontation at all costs. But I’m compelled to ask the question that’s been burning for months.
“Do you want more children?” Silence hangs thick between us. I immediately want to retract my foolish, intrusive question, but as he often does, Greyson surprises me.
“No. Harper’s it for me.” He scratches at the stubble on his strong jaw, his mind somewhere else. “It’s not that I didn’t want more kids, just wasn’t in the cards for me.”
He clears his throat and looks away from me.
“Got a vasectomy when Harper was tiny. I took every precaution and Vanessa still got pregnant. I don’t regret Harper’s existence for a second—but becoming a dad, a fucking single dad, when it wasn’t in my life plan?
I needed to control my future and guarantee there’d be no future surprises. ”
Despite the weight of his admission, I smile at his phrasing. His cold, gruff, intolerant-of-any-bullshit exterior hides a warm, ooey, gooey heart.
“How about you? Do you want more kids?” I’m taken aback by his question, when I should’ve seen it coming from a mile away. Maybe if I wasn’t studying the color variations in his facial hair, or the vein that runs up his temple, I would’ve anticipated it.
“It funny…well, not funny ha ha, but funny what the heck that we both have daughters we love more than our own lives but had no say in their conception. I used to think maybe if I was married to the right person”—my eyes flit to his reflexively and drop just as quickly—“I’d like to have more children.
Being a mom is the best thing I’ve ever experienced. ”
He waits for me to continue, and when I don’t, prompts, “But…”
A kindred truth-serum flows between us and fighting it is futile.
“But, I had severe post-partum depression and anxiety after Everly was born. It invaded my brain the moment she left my body. Even though I was scared, I was so excited to be a mom.
“Carter wasn’t at her birth, work was more important. I never even told my parents I was pregnant because I didn’t know where in the country they were. The operating room nurse laid Everly on my chest and I just…cried.
“I didn’t stop crying for weeks. Eventually, the tears dried up, but the crying stayed in my soul. I did everything. Carter had no interest in being a father. Why did he get me pregnant if he didn’t want to be a dad?
“I don’t remember much from the first two years of her life. It was all I could do to keep her fed, bathed, and stimulated. Days would go by when my own nutrition and hygiene were less than a fleeting thought.
“Carter was appalled by my ‘ridiculous behavior.’ He was mean before she was born, but he became cruel after we had her. He’d threaten to take Everly away from me, have me sent to a mental health facility, get her a new mother.
“When your mind is just cracks filled with agony, reality shifts drastically. It got so bad I couldn’t…I didn’t want to…be here anymore.”
I’ve never told anyone about my darkest thoughts. I terrified myself but was too lost in hell to ask for help.
“The storm cleared slowly until it was a perpetual fog, but I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore. Even if I was desperate for more kids, I don’t think I’d survive post-partum again.”
Greyson gently tips my chin up with his knuckles. “Hey. Look at me.”
I can’t help but to do as he says. I’m hardwired to do anything to please him.
“I’m so fucking glad you’re still here.” His hand squeezes mine tightly. “Your story is far from over.”