Chapter 21 #2
“He is absolutely not. I barely interacted with the guy.”
“Barely interacted? Yesterday, you talked for three hours straight about books. He has opinions about Dostoevsky, Addison! Dostoevsky!”
“I will murder you in your sleep.” My eldest daughter—always so composed, always so in control—was completely unraveling over a ski bum with opinions about Russian literature.
“Cal drove you,” Teddy cut in. “As in, Callan Wright?”
“Well, most people call him Cali,” Sky answered, oblivious to the dangerous edge in her father’s voice.
“What? You know him?” Addie asked, suddenly looking nervous.
“Know him?” Teddy laughed, but it was apparent he wasn’t particularly amused. “Kid owns half the resort. Also happens to be a member of my chapter.”
Sky cackled. “Oh my God, you’ve been treating him like some burnout, and he’s actually—”
“In the club,” Addie finished, the color draining from her face. “He conveniently failed to mention that.”
Teddy shrugged. “Probably didn’t want to scare you off. He also runs the kids’ programs on weekends and volunteers for ski patrol. But yeah, he’s got money. Smart as hell, too. Engineering degree from Colorado School of Mines. Good guy, but he’s a little too old for you.”
I knew that tight smile all too well, and Cali—good guy or not—was in danger.
“He’s like, what, mid-thirties?” Sky guessed. “Addie’s twenty-five. It’s not that big of a gap.”
“Not dating him, not interested in dating him, so his age is irrelevant,” Addie bit out, shooting her sister a look that could have curdled milk. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?”
Sky bobbed her head in agreement. “Yes. As much as I love watching Addie short-circuit, I need to know—” She pointed between Teddy and me. “Was that some weird, post-divorce booty call, slash, situationship—”
“For the love of God, don’t say booty call or situationship when talking about our parents ever again, please,” Addie pleaded softly, pressing her fingers to her eyelids beneath her glasses.
“I second that. Let’s make a pact to never speak of what you saw,” I suggested firmly. “Ever.”
“So sorry to have offended everyone’s virgin ears,” Sky replied, looking anything but apologetic. “As I was saying, when we walked in on—”
“Skylar Jade,” Teddy warned, raising his hand as if he were about to swat her, which would have been a more effective threat had he not been laughing as he said it.
“—the thing I’ve already forgotten,” she finished smoothly, shielding herself behind Addie. “What even happened? I sure don’t remember. Must’ve blocked it out. Anywho, are y’all back together or should we steal the keys to the Bronco and give you a little more time to think it over?”
Teddy and I exchanged a glance before he snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me snug against his side, briefly scrambling my brain again. Especially when I remembered where that hand had been less than an hour before.
Focus, Kelsey.
“Are we back together?” I repeated the question, pressing my tongue against the inside of my cheek when Teddy’s fingers squeezed my hip in warning.
When I remained silent, he exhaled the long, drawn-out sigh of a man who just remembered how bratty his Ol’ Lady could get. “Baby, you really gonna make me say it again?”
“Absolutely I am.” I patted his chest with a solemn nod, enjoying the way his jaw ticked with barely restrained exasperation, knowing I’d pay for it later. “For the girls.”
“Asked your mama to move in with me this morning,” he said, his voice carrying the gruff edge that still did things to my insides even after thirty-plus years.
“And I said yes,” I confirmed, arching up onto my toes to kiss his jaw. “We’re getting back together.”
The words felt surreal even as they left my mouth. Two weeks ago, I’d been standing in my empty Texas kitchen, stirring my coffee and wondering if the hollow existence I’d carved out was all I had left to look forward to.
Sky lurched forward with an ear-piercing shriek, wrapping her arms around both of us in a tackle-hug that nearly sent all three of us toppling over. “This is the best Christmas present ever!”
Addie was only marginally more composed, her eyes suspiciously bright as she joined the group hug. “I knew it would work,” she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder.
“And we didn’t even have to pretend to be each other and swap places—”
“Because we’re not twins, Skylar.”
“Y’all are so grounded for this,” I informed them, but I was smiling, unable to help myself. “Like, forever.”
“Nuh-uh,” Sky replied cheerfully. “It’s Christmas Eve. Nobody gets grounded on Christmas Eve. Besides, we were just responsible for getting you in the same room. It’s not like we created back-to-back blizzards. That was just a lucky coincidence… or, I guess, unlucky, since you crashed the rental.”
The light from the tree suddenly caught one of the ornaments just right, making it glint. My throat tightened when I saw it was one of Levi’s snow globes. “Or maybe you two had a little help,” I said, not bothering to hide the emotion in my voice. “Your brother always wanted to be a meteorologist.”
Teddy followed my gaze to the tree before huffing out a soft laugh. “Wouldn’t be a damn bit surprised if he pulled a few strings with the man upstairs, making sure we got the full parent trap experience.”
“That totally sounds like something Levi would do,” Addie said quietly, her voice thick.
Sky swiped at her eyes. “And you know he would have been so smug about it, too.”
I laughed despite the tears threatening to spill. “He never could resist taking credit for a good scheme.”
We were talking about him. Not tiptoeing around his memory or changing the subject when his name came up—just talking about our boy, making him a part of this moment.
Because he was.
The irony, of course, was that this had always been Levi’s superpower—to make his presence known in every room, even after he was gone.
Because he had been so much more than the illness that took him from us.
Levi loved conducting science experiments, from the glitter volcano he made in the bathroom sink to the elaborate Rube Goldberg machine he constructed on the staircase.
It felt right that even now, he’d managed to orchestrate the most mortifying homecoming possible.
Sky nudged me with her hip. “I can’t believe you’re moving to Colorado. You are moving, right? This isn’t like a retaliation prank, is it?” she asked, her eyes wide and earnest.
I looked at Teddy and caught the faintest twitch of nerves in his jaw. President of the club, leader of men, unbreakable force—and still so goddamn hungry for reassurance that I was staying.
“I am,” I said, surprised by how easy it was. No jolt of anxiety. No second thoughts. Just a feeling of rightness in every fiber of my being.
I looked at my daughters—one wild and messy, the other wound tight as piano wire—and realized that, for the first time since Levi died, we were all right.
Resilient, if not entirely functional. The world hadn’t ended when our lives blew up; it just took a blizzard and some daughterly sabotage for us to discover that we could build something new from the shrapnel.
“I’m really glad you’re happy,” Addie said, coloring a little. “Y’all deserve it.”
I thought of all the years I’d spent trying to be a perfect wife, mother, Christmas automaton. The years I’d spent thinking that happiness was something you finished earning, like a degree. The years after Levi, when it seemed impossible that any of us could ever be happy again, let alone together.
“Me too, kiddo,” I whispered, blinking back sudden tears. “Me too.”