At least they agreed on that.
“Remember when the two of you got married?” Linda asked. “Ben told you ‘Welcome to the family,’ and I said that I now consider you my son?”
Nick nodded. He’d choked up at the time.
“That didn’t change just because Clara is no longer here. We still love you like a son, which means that we care about you and want what’s best for you. Holly is our only grandchild, and we want what’s best for her, too. You staying single forever isn’t what’s best for either of you.”
They both kept quiet for a long moment while Nick let their words sink in. Objectively, he knew that they were right. If a friend were in his position, he would suggest the same thing. But seeing someone else go through losing a spouse and goingthrough it yourself were two different things. He never could’ve guessed all the emotions that would hit him along the way.
Besides, how was he supposed to just find someone who would be okay with marriage being tied to motherhood of a six-year-old? And how was he going to find someone who was going to instantly be a great mom?
“You and Holly are all we have left,” Linda said. “And we want you both to be happy.”
Even though there was a wall between him and it, Nick looked in the direction of the kitchen, where he could hear the muffled sounds of a Christmas song that Holly was singing loudly, Rosy doing her best to bark backup. He always tried to do what was best for his daughter and do it all by himself. But maybe doing it all himself wasn’t actually what was best for her.
And what about what was best for him? He no longer even knew what that was. He definitely didn’t have that figured out.
He looked back at Linda and Ben. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
Ben nodded once. “Good man. Now give me a hand and pull me up, will you?”
three
RACHEL
Rachel openedher front door and called out, “I’m home!” She’d barely set her things on the small table by the door when Aiden came running down the hall toward her, their golden retriever, Bailey, hot on his heels, the babysitter close behind.
As he neared, he leaped into the air and landed on her, giving one of his patented “starfish hugs.” Her son was getting bigger all the time—and faster—so she had to make sure her feet were firmly planted or he would knock her over. But after that year of being too weak for his starfish hugs, she wasn’t ever going to ask him to stop.
“Hey, buddy! Guess what I got on the way home?”
He slid to the ground, so she turned and grabbed the bag from the table and pulled out the wreath. Aiden looked at it with the same sense of wonder and admiration he’d had when they’d seen it in the store together, but this time, his expression also contained amazement at it being in their house. He ran a finger across one of the red bulbs, then turned to show it to Bria. “Isn’t this the best wreath you’ve ever seen?”
“It sure is.”
Aiden looked up at Rachel. “Can we hang it up right now?”
“Of course!” She opened the front door again, then lifted him so he could place it on the hook himself.
When she set him down, he stood back, admiring it. Then he turned his grin on her. “Thanks, momma!” Then he gave her a tight squeeze.
She didn’t have a lot of money to spend on frivolous things, but this had been a good choice. Her Season of Yes was off to a good start. She grabbed her purse and the book off the table, and as they headed back toward the family room and kitchen, she said to Bria. “Thank you so much for staying later.”
“No problem.” Then, as Aiden raced into the family room with the dog, Bria added in a low voice, “He didn’t have the best end to his school day. He was pretty upset when I picked him up.”
Rachel set her things on the counter and thanked Bria for letting her know before the girl grabbed her keys and headed out the front door. She opened the door of the fridge and looked inside as the exhaustion of the day started setting in, wishing she’d see a fully prepared meal just magically waiting for them. Maybe she would have to work some more meal prep into her Weekly Plan.
At least she had the meal planned and it was a fairly easy one. She pulled out the half of a rotisserie chicken, a package of tortillas, some grated cheese, and a jar of barbecue sauce. The barbecue sauce was key because if she used it, she could sneak in quite a few diced bell peppers without Aiden complaining, and she had a partial red one and half a green one.
As she gathered everything, Aiden told her a story about his friend, Quinton, and a small hill at school where the fields gently sloped down to the playground. “And we figured out that if we lay on our backs and lift our legs like this,” he said, lifting one knee and wrapping his arms around it, “then we can slide downthe hill on the snow! Did you hear that? We used ourcoatsas asled! It was the greatest thing ever. And then all the other kids saw us doing it and so they started doing it, too, and we basically started a new thing. I bet if we could be out there at the same time as the fourth and fifth graders, they’d be doing it, too.”
Every day when she got home from work, Aiden told her about his day at a million miles an hour, barely stopping to take a breath, and all she could do was nod and show the right facial expression. There was no space to even comment until he got enough of it out.
She dumped her armful of ingredients on the counter, then Aiden said, “Hey, can I help?”
“Always.”
He stepped up on the stool, washed his hands, then scooted the stool to the counter she stood at.
