Chapter 19 Rourke
NINETEEN
Rourke
When we arrive at the Henderson Christmas Tree Farm, it looks just like the website. Rolling hills dotted with all shapes of evergreens, a rustic barn that’s on the verge of collapse, and families wandering the rows with mulled cider while their kids play tag between the trees.
It’s the kind of weather-beaten establishment whose reputation has spread by word of mouth, including generations of families who’ve cut down their Christmas trees here.
“We can get the smallest tree they have,” Janie says for the third time since we pulled up. That red coat she’s wearing shouldn’t work with the pink in her blonde hair—but somehow, on her, it does.
After we park, I unbuckle Aria from her car seat. “Janie, Aria deserves more than a Charlie Brown tree.” Then I turn to the baby girl who looks just like her mommy. “Don’t you agree, Aria? Tell Mommy you deserve the best.”
Janie props a hand on her hip as I come around the car, holding Aria. “She’s ten months old, Rourke. She’s not going to remember this.”
“For the rest of her life, she’s going to look at family pictures of her first Christmas.
And you know what she’ll see? That tree.
” I tug the bear hat down over Aria’s head, the same hat Janie bought her in Santaville.
“These will show up at her graduation party, family reunions, even someday when she’s showing her grandchildren. ”
Janie looks at me and lets out a sigh that tells me I’m impossible…and right.
We move through the first row of trees, Aria in my arms, while Janie stops at each one to inspect it.
“What do you think of this one?” she asks, circling a short evergreen that’s not much to look at.
“Underwhelming at best.”
She walks on to the next one—a squat tree that’s lopsided. “How about this one?”
“Definitely not.”
She turns to me. “They can’t all be terrible, Rourke.”
“Honestly, I can’t explain it. But if we’re going to get a tree, I only have one rule.”
“What’s that?”
“Go big or go home.”
Janie laughs, shaking her head as I lead her toward a row of taller evergreens.
As we wander past tree after tree, Janie defends every scraggly underdog while I point out the ones that are too sparse or just plain ugly.
That’s when I notice she’s not just smiling, but really laughing.
And the crazy part is that I’m enjoying it too.
Which is something I never thought I’d say about anything involving Christmas.
As I breathe in the smell of pine, I realize this is the kind of tradition that makes you understand why people love the holidays. Or maybe it has nothing to do with Christmas, and everything to do with the woman beside me.
“What about this one?” Janie stops in front of a misshapen tree that’s marked twenty percent off with a yellow ribbon.
“Janie.” I lift an eyebrow. “Are you stopping here because this tree’s on sale?”
She shakes her head. “No.” But the guilt on her face tells me I’m right.
We head down a few more rows near the photo booth where families are taking pictures in an old sleigh.
“How about this one?” I say, stopping in front of an impressive white pine that’s almost seven feet tall with a trunk like a telephone pole. It would certainly make a statement.
Janie stares at it. “It’s huge.”
“It’s perfect. And this time, I’m not just saying that. Look at this base—” I hold up the bottom branches. “Solid as a rock. This tree isn’t going anywhere.”
“Are you sure? It’s not too much, is it?” She looks unsure about the enormous tree.
I take her hand and squeeze it gently. “This Christmas is all about giving you new memories. And no one loves Christmas more than you.”
She thinks for a moment before nodding.
A few minutes later, after handing off Aria to Janie, I’m on my knees, working the saw through the trunk. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Janie stealing glances at me before she holds up her phone.
“Enjoying the show, Bennett?” I finally ask, looking at her with a grin.
She furrows her brow. “What show?”
I go back to sawing. “Tell me, what exactly are you thinking about while I’m out here being rugged and manly?”
She laughs, looking away, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “I’m just watching Aria.”
I look directly at her. “Uh-huh. Definitely not staring at me like I’m the December feature in a lumberjack calendar.”
The flush deepens on her face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you didn’t answer the question.” I saw once more, then pause. “On a scale of one to ten, how much are you enjoying this little lumberjack performance?”
“I’m not—” She hesitates, then huffs out a breath. “Fine. Maybe a seven.”
“Only a seven?” I straighten and take off my flannel shirt, tossing it at her. “Harsh critic. I’m sweating for this rating.”
“That’s cheating,” she says, holding the shirt.
“I call it dedication.” I grip the saw, flexing a little in my T-shirt. “So, how about now?”
She laughs again, biting her bottom lip in a way that has me seriously rethinking whether I want to cut down this tree or kiss her against it.
“Okay, fine,” she admits. “Nine. You’d make a really good lumberjack. Happy now?”
“Almost.” I drop the saw and cross my arms. “Maybe that’s what I should be in next year’s pageant—your lumberjack fantasy come to life.”
She swats at my shoulder, but I catch her hand before she can pull away, tugging her closer.
“Rourke Riley, you’re trouble,” she says.
I press a kiss to the back of her hand. “But admit it, you like trouble.”
The smile that spreads across her face could light this entire farm. “Maybe I do.”
I turn back to the tree, sawing through the last bit of trunk until it gives way. We start making our way back to the car, dragging the pine tree behind us, when a couple steps into our path and the man stops.
“Janie?”
The moment Janie looks up, she tenses beside me. “Nick,” Janie says in a flat tone.
This is the man who destroyed her.
“What a surprise,” Nick says, his tone careful as he takes in our little scene.
I drop the tree and brush my hands off. “I’m Rourke,” I say, extending my hand to Nick. “Janie’s boyfriend.”
He hesitates before shaking my hand. “This is Lia,” he says, motioning to the woman next to him. “And I’m Aria’s father.”
“Janie’s mentioned you,” I say, threading my fingers with hers.
Nick’s smile slips. “Of course. Though I have to say, I didn’t know she was dating anyone.”
Janie shifts uncomfortably. “You haven’t contacted us in months.”
I stroke my thumb across her hand, and Nick’s eyes track the movement, his jaw flexing.
“I’m actually helping with her pageant,” I say.
“The school show?” Nick huffs out a laugh. “Janie always did love her little projects.”
“Actually, she’s amazing with those kids,” I say, sliding a hand around her waist. “The school is lucky to have her.”
Lia nervously tugs at Nick’s hand. “Well, it was good to see you. We should probably go pick out our tree, Nick.”
When I glance over at Janie, I know immediately something’s wrong. The joy from a minute ago has disappeared. What if seeing them together reminds her of everything she lost, everything she should’ve had?
She told me once she wasn’t over what Nick did—the betrayal, how he left her while she was pregnant, then the divorce. I thought I understood it. But watching the light drain from her eyes now makes me want to break something.
“Janie.” Nick turns around once more. “I’ve been meaning to call you about Christmas. I’d like to set up a time for Aria to come over?”
Her body goes rigid. “But you’ve hardly seen her at all.”
“Which is why I’d like to spend more time with her,” Nick says.
Janie’s mouth tightens. “We’ll discuss this another time.”
“Good. Then I’ll be in touch.” He wraps his arm around Lia’s shoulders. “We should probably get back to tree shopping. Good seeing you both.”
I squeeze Janie’s hand. “We need to get going too. The photo line is almost empty, and I promised this beautiful woman the full Christmas experience.” I turn to Janie. “Ready for those pictures, angel?”
She nods.
I take our tree and move it out of the way for us to take home later before guiding her toward the photo booth. Once we’re out of earshot of Nick, I stop walking and turn to face her fully. “You okay?”
“I will be,” Janie says quietly, but she won’t look at me. “I’m just wondering what you’re up to. I know you don’t want to take Christmas pictures.”
I reach up and gently tilt her chin until she meets my eyes. “This time? I absolutely do.”
The Christmas photo backdrop is an old-fashioned sleigh draped in garland and parked in front of a set of wide barn doors. Behind it, rows of Christmas trees sparkle with white lights. Plaid blankets hang over the sleigh seat, and the whole setup looks like it was made for a Christmas postcard.
Almost sickeningly festive. Exactly the kind of thing I’d normally despise.
My gut reaction is to walk the other way. Because growing up, Christmas photos meant pretending we were a normal family when everything was broken. Every holiday photo was just another lie.
But then I look at Janie. She’s trying to hold it together, but I can see how Nick destroyed her, and now he’s here, rubbing his new life in her face. And suddenly, I don’t care about my baggage anymore. Because Janie needs this.
I stride over to the sleigh. “Come on, Bennett. Let’s show them how we have fun.”
Her eyes meet mine, surprised.
She climbs into the sleigh first, settling Aria on her lap. I follow, taking the Santa hat the photographer hands me and putting it on without a single complaint. When I wrap a blanket around our shoulders, Janie leans into me, and I pull her closer.
This isn’t for show. I want to give her what she deserves—a Christmas memory that doesn’t hurt. New memories replacing the old.
As Nick and Lia look at trees, her ex keeps glancing our way while the photographer snaps pictures.
“What a beautiful family,” the photographer says, then points above us. “We have mistletoe hanging on the barn doors behind you, just over your heads in the shot. Would you like another picture?”
Of course there’s mistletoe. I can’t seem to get away from the plant.
But right now, I don’t even mind that. Because this is a chance to kiss the woman I’m falling for, officially, like she’s mine. Right now, I want the whole world to know how I feel about Janie Bennett.
“Are you okay with a kiss under the mistletoe?” I ask Janie, searching her face.
“I think,” she says, reaching up to touch my cheek, “that I’d like that very much.”
I lean in, angling my mouth toward hers, tasting the sweetness of her lips, savoring the slow lingering movements of her mouth against mine. My hand slides to her waist under the blanket, and I can feel her smile against my mouth, the way her body responds to mine.
When she finally pulls away, her eyes have that spark in them again—the joy I thought she’d lost when Nick showed up today.
“This is going to be Aria’s first family Christmas photo,” Janie says, stroking her daughter’s hair.
“The first of many,” I say without thinking.
Janie looks at me, puzzled. “Many?”
“I hope so.”
As we climb out of the sleigh, I catch sight of Nick one more time as he walks away—his face looking like a man who just lost everything.
But I don’t feel triumphant. I just feel grateful. His loss became my gain. His inability to see what he had means I get the best gift ever: my two girls.
That thought nearly stops me in my tracks. When did I start thinking of them as mine?
I already know: the moment I started falling for them both. Somewhere between Janie’s first skate and Aria’s first smile, they became mine in my heart.
Not legally, not officially, but in every way that counts.