Chapter Seventeen
EVELYN
I truly believed it was an excellent idea.
Despite all my current issues with my parents, I held onto fond memories of Christmases from my childhood. It was a time of decorated homes, delicious food, and a warm, magical feeling that seemed to wrap around everything.
And that was exactly what I wanted to give the girls, especially since it would be their first Christmas without their mother.
My own family never had the money for a real tree every year. We had a small artificial one that lived in a box for eleven months, only to be resurrected each December. But Logan had given me his credit card for the girls' needs, and right now, what they needed most was a little magic.
However, things weren't going as planned. We were at the tree lot, and I’d expected the girls to be buzzing with excitement. That was definitely not the case.
“What do you think of this one?” I asked, pointing to a pine tree almost as tall as me. It wasn't perfect—with Christmas just days away, the best ones were long gone.
“Whatever…” Anna shrugged, utterly dismissive.
Aurora mirrored the gesture perfectly.
“Just imagine it covered in decorations and lights,” I insisted.
“Whatever,” Anna repeated with another shrug.
Once again, Aurora followed suit.
“We could go to the market and buy ingredients to make cookies. How does that sound? Have you ever made Christmas cookies before?”
Anna looked away, ignoring me. Aurora, however, gave a small nod. I couldn’t tell if she was agreeing to the idea or confirming they’d made cookies before.
“Let’s look at a few more, and if we don’t find a better one, we can get this one. Is that okay?”
“Whatever,” Anna grumbled, her eyes scanning the crowd as if anything else was more interesting than the trees we’d come to buy.
I sighed, feeling a wave of discouragement. I was so distracted, trying to figure out how to cheer them up, that I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder. I think I even let out a little yelp as I spun around.
My confusion only deepened when I saw who it was.
“Hey… easy. It’s just me,” Logan said, looking taken aback by my reaction.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I decided to take the day off. To buy a Christmas tree.”
“You put your research on hold… to buy a tree?”
“I live for this. It’s my most anticipated activity of the year.”
“Really?” My tone was dripping with irony.
“Of course. Who wouldn’t want to go out on a freezing day, spend half an hour finding parking, hours hunting for a perfectly symmetrical pine, only to settle for any old one and wait in an hour-long line to pay five times what it’s worth? It’s fantastic.” He was the one being deeply sarcastic now.
“You didn’t have to come, then. No one goes through all that without a sense of obligation.”
“They’re my daughters, aren’t they?”
So that was it. Obligation.
On one hand, it was good that Logan had finally awakened to this sense of duty. It was a start. But fatherhood required so much more than that. It was a shame he hadn’t discovered the ‘something more’ yet.
“Don’t tell me this is the best you’ve found?” he said, gesturing to the tree we’d been looking at.
“You find something better, then,” I challenged.
“That’s why I’m here. I knew if I left it to you, we’d end up with something tragic.”
I wanted to tell him exactly where he could go, but I held my tongue for the girls' sake. Both of them were staring at him, looking just as confused by his presence as I was.
“What do you girls think?” he asked.
Pouting, Anna replied, “Let’s just buy any one so we can leave.”
“That’s no way to choose something as important as a Christmas tree. Come with me, the better ones are in the back.”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” I said, gesturing to the bustling crowd, “it’s a bit packed.”
“Exactly. That’s why people grab the first thing they see, leaving the better stock further in. Let’s go.”
He held out his hands to the girls. Anna eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then ran over and firmly grabbed my hand, making her preference clear. I saw the smile on Logan’s face falter before he quickly plastered it back on. He’d felt that rejection.
Aurora, however, studied him for a few more seconds before tentatively placing her small hand in his.
We followed Logan deeper into the vast lot. It wasn't easy with the crowd, but I had to admit he was right; the trees here were in much better condition.
“What about this one?” Logan asked, stopping before a tree that looked practically perfect.
A stubborn part of me still tried to find a flaw, but I simply couldn’t.
“I don’t like it,” Anna declared, clearly out of spite.
I crouched down beside her. “Don’t you think it’s pretty, Anna?”
“I don’t like any of them.”
“And you, Aurora, what do you think?” Logan asked.
He looked at her and immediately realized his mistake. She had been watching her sister and hadn’t seen him speak.
I gestured for her to look up, and she did. Logan glanced at me uncertainly.
“Just make sure she’s looking at you, then speak slowly so she can read your lips,” I reassured him.
He nodded, his gaze returning to his daughter. He repeated the question; his words deliberate and clear. “And you, Aurora? Did you like this tree?”
She glanced at the pine tree he indicated, but like her sister, she didn’t seem impressed. Then her eyes drifted to the tree right beside it, and a genuine smile lit up her face as she tugged Logan’s hand, pulling him toward it.
I stood up and, with Anna, moved closer, full of doubts about Rory’s choice. The tree was enormous—taller than Logan—but it was sparse, with visible gaps and several dead branches.
When she looked at me, I asked, “Are you sure you like this one, sweetie?”
She nodded, her eyes shining. Then she looked at Logan, waiting for his approval. He studied the pine, and his expression made it clear he was haunted by its flaws. On closer inspection, it was even worse than I’d thought.
Yet, when Logan looked back at Aurora, he smiled. “It’s perfect, Rory. Let’s take it.”
The little girl was thrilled, jumping up and down. I worried that pleasing her now would only lead to disappointment when we tried to decorate the scrawny thing.
“Are you sure, Rory?” I asked, letting go of Anna’s hand to sign.
“I think it’s…” I stopped when her smile vanished.
Stupidly, I realized she already loved it so much that calling it ugly would crush her.
“...Too tall. It might be hard to decorate the top. It may not even fit in the Holloways’ living room. ”
Looking sad, she turned back to her father, silently pleading for him to defend her chosen tree.
And that’s exactly what Logan did.
“The Holloways’ living room has high ceilings.
Of course it will fit. And as for decorating the top…
” He bent down, scooped Aurora up, and placed her on his shoulders.
A delighted laugh escaped her as he stood, lifting her high.
She looked at me, proud, and reached her hand toward the treetop as if to prove she could now touch it.
Defeated, I smiled.
“You’re right! You can reach it this way,” I said, with my voice and my hands. “Okay, Rory, we’ll take it. And if it doesn’t look good, we can come back and get another one before Christmas, alright?”
“How could it not be beautiful?” Logan countered, and he seemed genuinely enchanted by the pine now. “We’ll buy extra lights. It will be gorgeous. Evelyn, can you tell Aurora the tree will be beautiful?”
Laughing, I relayed the message to Aurora, who couldn’t see his lips from her perch.
Her smile widened.
A salesman approached, and Logan confirmed we were taking the tree. While the man wrote up the receipt, I glanced at Anna and saw her with her arms crossed, head down.
“Hey, Anna…” I called. She didn’t look up. “What’s wrong, my love? You didn’t like the tree your sister picked?”
“I wanna leave,” she mumbled.
Logan finished with the receipt and crouched in front of her. “You didn’t like it? Rory really did, but if you don’t, we can keep looking for one you both like.”
“I don’t care about the stupid tree,” she snapped. “I just want to leave.”
The relaxed expression on Logan’s face crumbled into sadness.
Anna turned her back and walked away, breaking into a run that startled me until I saw her slump onto a bench. Aurora ran after her, sitting beside her and, sensing her sister didn’t want to talk, began to tenderly stroke her hair.
The scene was heartbreaking, a stark reminder of the sadness and confusion these girls carried from their mother’s abandonment and being thrust into a new life with a stranger for a father.
Yet, it was also beautiful. As angry as Anna was, she didn’t push her sister away.
And as ignored as she was, Aurora was determined to show her twin she wasn’t alone.
“I thought I was starting to get it right…” Logan said beside me, his eyes fixed on his daughters.
“It’s not that simple,” I replied softly. “You won’t automatically win their love, Logan. It’s a slow process.”
“It shouldn’t be. I’m their father.”
“And until a week ago, they didn’t even know you.”
“They didn’t know you either, and they already like you. You already told me why. You see them. You notice the details. And I, for all my life boasting about being smart… I have such a hard time doing the same.”
“Well… not always. You did well with Rory today. I probably would have kept insisting we find a ‘better’ tree, but you understood before I did that something about that… hideous thing… had captivated her.”
“Ah, the tree isn’t that ugly…”
“You’re going to have to buy a lot of extra lights to cover all those gaps and make it look even remotely presentable.”
“Look on the bright side…” He waved the receipt. “It was heavily discounted…”
That made me laugh. In fact, we both laughed together. And it was amazing to realize that, for the first time since we’d met, Logan Turner and I were sharing a genuine laugh.
“You’re a Turner. And you’re the director of New York Center Hospital. Aren’t you ashamed to be hunting for discounts on Christmas trees?”
“I’m still the future director. It’s not official until next month.”
“It’s only a matter of time. Just like winning over the girls. You’re off to a good start. With Anna, you just need a little more patience.”
He grew thoughtful, his gaze lingering on his daughters.
And for the first time since this whole mess began, I saw a true, determined spark in his eyes—not just a sense of obligation, but a real desire to close the distance between them.