Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
VIOLET
The kitchen in my childhood home feels eerily quiet as I wipe down the counters.
Dad is nowhere to be found, though I'm not surprised.
I'd texted that I was coming, but as usual, he's either forgotten or chosen to be elsewhere.
The few dirty dishes in the sink suggest he was here recently but didn't bother to clean up.
My finger traces the signature on the check. Hudson Wilder. My husband. The man who kissed me like I was precious, who touched me like I was made of gold, who made me feel things I'd never felt before. The man I'm starting to have very real feelings for.
With a sigh, I enter the amount needed to cover the mortgage payments and late fees—just over $11,000. The weight lifts from my shoulders as the payment processes. Mom's house is safe. My promise kept.
But what about the rest? Nearly $39,000 remains, more money than I've ever had at once. Money from a man who's no longer just a business arrangement to me.
I close my laptop and sit at the kitchen table, the check receipt still in my hand.
This house has always been my anchor, the physical manifestation of Mom's memory.
I've fought so hard to keep it, sacrificed my own dreams, even married a stranger.
But now that it's secure, I find myself wondering if this is still my home.
The walls that once held me now feel confining. The memories that comforted me now seem distant. My heart pulls me elsewhere—to a mountain house filled with Christmas decorations and the laughter of three little girls. To a man with dark, knowing eyes who sees right through me.
My phone buzzes on the counter. Hudson's name lights up the screen, and my heart does that ridiculous flutter.
"Hey," I answer, unable to keep the smile from my voice.
"Violet." His deep voice sends warmth spreading through me. "I'm stuck at the site. A tree came down wrong, damaged some equipment. I won't make it back in time to meet the girls."
"What time are they arriving?" I stand, already gathering my things.
"Kristy's dropping them off at three." The stress is evident in his tone. "I hate to ask, but—"
"I'll be there," I assure him, glancing at my watch. Just after one. "Don't worry about it."
"You sure? This wasn't part of the deal, being alone with them."
"Hudson, it's fine. I'm happy to do it." And I am, surprisingly so. The thought of seeing the girls fills me with anticipation rather than anxiety.
He's quiet for a moment. "Thank you, Goldie."
The nickname makes my stomach flip. "I'll see you when you get home."
Home. The word slips out naturally, and neither of us corrects it.
After we hang up, I call Ivy, needing to talk to someone who understands the complexity of what I'm feeling.
"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Mountain Man," Ivy teases when she answers. "How's married life treating you?"
"That's actually why I'm calling," I admit, pacing the kitchen. "I think I'm in trouble, Ivy."
"What happened? Did Hudson do something?"
"No. That's the problem. He's... perfect." I sink back into a chair. "We had sex."
"What?" Ivy shrieks. "I thought this was just a business arrangement!"
"It was. Is. I don't know anymore." I run a hand through my hair. "It just happened. And then it happened again. And again."
"Well, well, well. Sounds like someone's enjoying the benefits package."
"It's not just the sex," I confess. "It's everything. The way he is with his daughters. How he looks at me sometimes like I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. The little things he does, like making coffee just how I like it or clearing space in his closet without me asking."
"You're falling for him," Ivy states. It's not a question.
"I'm terrified," I whisper. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"What did you expect? You married a hot, devoted, protective single dad who apparently has magic hands in the bedroom. Of course you're falling for him."
"But what happens when it's over? The deal was six months, Ivy. Just until he gets custody." My voice cracks slightly. "What happens to me when he doesn't need a wife anymore?"
Ivy's tone softens. "Have you talked about it? About what happens after?"
"No." I stare at the receipt still in my hand. "It seemed so straightforward at first. Now everything's complicated."
"Honey, you need to protect your heart. If this is just temporary for him, you need to know that."
"You're right." I tuck the receipt into my purse. "I should go. The girls are being dropped off soon."
"Call me later," Ivy insists. "And Vi? Be careful."
I hang up, her warning echoing in my mind as I gather my things to leave. On the counter, I leave a note for Dad—
Made you lasagna. It's in the fridge. Back next weekend. Love, Vi.
As I pull away from the house, I look back one last time, wondering when my childhood home stopped feeling like the place I belong.
I'm waiting on the porch when Kristy's car pulls into the driveway. After yesterday's confrontation, I brace myself for another scene, but she doesn't get out. The girls tumble from the car with their weekend bags, and the vehicle speeds away before they even reach the steps.
"Violet!" Lucy shouts, racing toward me. "Where's Daddy?"
"He had to work late, sweetie," I explain, kneeling to her level. "But he'll be home soon. I thought we could have some fun until then."
Lucy throws her arms around my neck without hesitation. Over her shoulder, I see Angie approaching with a shy smile, while Silvie hangs back, suspicion in her eyes.
"Is Dad okay?" Silvie asks, her young face serious beyond her years.
"He's fine," I assure her. "Just cleaning up after a fallen tree. He called to make sure I'd be here for you girls."
Some of the tension leaves her small shoulders. "Okay."
"Let's get inside where it's warm," I suggest, helping Lucy with her backpack. "I have a surprise."
Inside, their eyes widen at the Christmas decorations I put up yesterday. Lucy immediately runs to the tree, still bare of ornaments.
"You got a tree!" she squeals. "Can we make it pretty it? Please, please, please?"
"That's exactly what I thought we could do," I smile, setting their bags down. "Your dad told me all the decorations are in boxes in the attic. I just need help bringing them down."
"I know where they are," Angie offers quietly. "I helped Daddy put them away last year."
Silvie finally steps all the way in, closing the door behind her. "Mom never lets us decorate the tree," she says, almost to herself. "She says we'll mess it up."
My heart twinges at the casual revelation. "Well, here you can decorate however you want. It's your tree too."
We spend the next hour bringing down boxes of ornaments and lights. I untangle strings of colorful bulbs while Lucy bounces around excitedly, Angie carefully unpacks ornaments, and Silvie supervises with growing interest.
"This one's mine!" Lucy holds up a handprint ornament made of clay. "I made it in preschool!"
"Mine's the snowflake," Angie shows me a delicate paper creation.
"What's yours, Silvie?" I ask gently.
She hesitates, then reaches into a box and pulls out a small wooden frame containing a photo of the three girls with Hudson. "Dad helped me make this last year."
"It's beautiful," I say sincerely. "Where should we put it on the tree?"
A hint of a smile touches her lips. "Near the top. So everyone can see it."
As we decorate, I notice Silvie checking her phone regularly, smiling at whatever messages she's receiving.
"Friend from school?" I ask casually.
Her cheeks color slightly. "Yeah. Trevor."
"Is Trevor a special friend?" I keep my tone light, non-teasing.
Silvie glances at her sisters, who are busy arranging ornaments on the lower branches. "Kind of," she admits quietly. "He sits next to me in class."
"It's nice to have someone to talk to at school," I offer, hanging a glittering snowman.
"Mom says I'm too young to like boys." She frowns. "She says it's trashy."
I nearly drop the ornament in my hand. "There's nothing wrong with having friends who are boys, Silvie. And there's certainly nothing trashy about it."
She watches me carefully. "Did you have boy friends when you were my age?"
"I did," I nod. "My friend Jason used to share his comic books with me at recess. We were buddies all through elementary school."
"Does Trevor like you back?" Lucy pipes up, revealing she's been eavesdropping.
Silvie's face flames red. "Lucy! Mind your own business!"
"Makes sense," Lucy defends. "If you like someone, you want them to like you back."
"She's not wrong," I agree, hanging another ornament. "But it's also okay if someone just wants to be friends."
Silvie studies me for a moment. "There's no one I can talk to about this stuff," she says finally. "Mom just gets mad, and Dad gets all weird and changes the subject."
My heart aches for this young girl trying to navigate growing up without proper guidance. "You can always talk to me, Silvie. About anything. I promise not to get weird or mad."
She doesn't respond, but something shifts in her expression—a slight softening around the eyes, a tentative lowering of her guard.
"Can we play Christmas music?" Angie asks, breaking the moment.
"Absolutely." I connect my phone to Hudson's speaker system, and soon the house fills with cheerful holiday tunes.
The girls sing along as we continue decorating, Lucy dancing around the living room, Angie carefully arranging ornaments in color patterns, and Silvie even joining in occasionally with a small smile. It feels easy, natural. Like family.
The thought stops me mid-hang. Is that what we're becoming? A family?
Before I can dwell on it, the front door opens, and Hudson steps in, his tall frame filling the doorway. His eyes take in the scene—his daughters decorating the tree, Christmas music playing, me standing in the middle of it all—and something in his expression softens.
"Daddy!" Lucy races to him, wrapping herself around his legs. "Look at our tree!"