Cabin Fever With My First Flame (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

8. Finn

Chapter eight

Finn

I take longer in the shower than necessary, but I figure it’s safe enough to do so since I’m not hearing a smoke alarm blare or the kids shouting at one another. In fact, I hear the faint sound of laughter coming from the living room and kitchen area. It’s a sound I could get used to despite my long-standing bachelor status and my preference for peace and quiet.

As I towel dry my hair, I think about the full house and the feisty woman in my kitchen. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s a new experience for me, as is being a father figure. I don’t know the first thing about being a parent or taking care of anyone other than myself. Being a firefighter is one thing, but it doesn’t require that I put a roof over someone’s head or feed them three meals a day. Yet, I find myself wanting to take care of Bailey and the kids—all six of them.

Micah is right about one thing, although I’ll never tell him that since it will go straight to his head, and he’ll lord it over me. It’s true that I’ve never gone on more than three dates with a woman since Bailey and I parted ways. Bailey was perfect for me in every way, and no one has come close to measuring up. As Micah put it, “The Bailey Bar” had been set, and there was only one person who could reach it.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt before looking out the window to check the weather. I need to get Bailey and her girls down the mountain and out of my house before I do something foolish, like kiss Bailey senseless and lose my heart all over again. I still haven’t fully recovered from the first time.

Drawing back the curtain, I frown. It’s still snowing, and the wind has caused drifts that are slowly creeping up the side of the house. By my best estimate, there is nearly five feet of fresh powder on the ground, and the chances of getting out of here are nil.

More laughter greets me as I come down the hall and enter the kitchen to a plethora of smiling faces—some of which are covered in flour. Jonah is the first to see me and grins, “Hey, Finn! We’re making pancakes from scratch! I’m going to put chocolate chips in mine!”

“That sounds delicious. What should I put in mine?” I ask him.

“Bailey said you used to use your pancakes to make breakfast tacos filled with eggs and bacon,” Isaac interjects. “Bailey has a sheet of bacon in the oven, and Ella is scrambling eggs! I’m going to try one of those!”

I go and stand next to Bailey, who is hovering over a large griddle and adding fresh ingredients to each of the pancakes. There are bowls of blueberries, small banana chunks, chopped walnuts, chocolate chips, and diced strawberries. I lean against the counter and fold my arms across my chest. “I can’t believe you remember how I eat pancakes.”

She doesn’t look at me when she replies, “It’s hard to forget when we made them every Saturday morning for three years. Although those pancakes were from a box mix and needed all the help they could get to make them palatable. If you prefer something different now, that’s okay.”

I can’t help but wonder if she’s talking about more than the pancakes. “Nope. I’m a creature of habit. I tend to stick with something as long as it’s good.”

Bailey begins flipping the flapjacks, which are light and fluffy with a beautiful golden-brown top. “Sure you do; until something comes along that’s even better. Then it’s bye-bye pancakes without so much as an explanation.”

“Bailey…”

She holds up her hand and shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she chokes out. “Like you said, ‘It’s water under the bridge,’ and I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.” She turns her back to me and goes into full mom mode while addressing the children. “Thank you all for your help this morning. This is going to be an amazing breakfast because it was made with love and fun sprinkled in. Now, who is ready to wash their hands so that we can eat?”

Jonah, Isaac, Mia, and Ava all raise their hands and bounce on their toes. Micah grins and offers to help the younger kids accomplish their tasks.

Ella hands me the spatula to take over her duty of scrambling eggs, winking as she does it. As she leaves, she whispers, “Use the alone time wisely, Finn.”

The kids go to the bathroom to clean up, and once it’s just Bailey and me, I clear my throat. “About what I said earlier, I apologize.”

“Which time are you apologizing for? Are you talking about in the hallway when you accused me of breaking my promise to you? Which I never did, by the way. Or are you referring to a minute ago when you implied that I wasn’t good enough to stick with?”

I push around the eggs, not sure how to answer. When she tries to reach for the platter in the cupboard above the stove, I press my body against hers and grab it for her. I bring my mouth close to her ear and say in a husky tone, “Both.”

Her skin erupts in goosebumps, just like it used to when I whispered sweet nothings to her. But instead of turning around and kissing me like she had in the past, she elbows me in the ribs to move me out of her way. As she’s plating the pancakes, she waves her spatula in my face. “We were going to get married, Finn! All you had to do was return home as planned and wait for me to graduate. But noooooo ! You gave me some cockamamie excuse about a job offer in California that you couldn’t refuse and left without so much as a word. Sure, you wrote me a letter, but that doesn’t count. It was cowardly and beneath you!”

It was cowardly, but that was because I was devastated when Daniel told me what happened between him and Bailey. “Why would I have come back after what you did?”

She grabs the pan of scrambled eggs and dumps them in a bowl. She immediately goes to the sink and starts rinsing it off to put in the dishwasher. “What, pray tell, is it that I did that warranted a ‘Dear John’ letter and you ghosting me? You were my best friend? We talked about everything, Finn. What did I do that was so bad that you couldn’t come to me so we could work it out?”

As soon as I open my mouth to finally let out what I’ve been holding in for 18 years, the buzzer on the oven goes off, and Bailey pulls out a pan of perfectly cooked bacon. It’s crisp enough that it doesn’t fall limp when you hold it, but it also doesn’t crumble in your hand. The wonderful smell momentarily distracts me, as does the pitter-pattering of feet running down the hall.

“We’re all clean!” Ava yells, trailing behind Mia, Isaac, and Jonah. There are two teenagers who are conspicuously missing, and I go in search of them. It’s not as if Bailey and I can continue our conversation in present company. I peek down the hall and notice that Ella and Micah’s foreheads are touching as they whisper conspiratorially and laugh.

Oblivious to my approach, Ella gives Micah two thumbs up and turns in my direction. Ella pulls up short when she nearly plows into me. I gesture between her and Micah, who isn’t far behind. “What were the two of you talking about? What’s so funny?”

Micah slings an arm around Ella’s shoulders and grins. “I was just telling Ella about our Christmas wish list tradition that Mom started when I was born.”

“Your mom had a great many traditions at Christmas,” I say. “It was her favorite time of year. Which one were you specifically discussing?”

Ella smiles, and it doesn’t escape my notice that she hasn’t moved Micah’s arm off her shoulders. I glance back and forth between Micah and his arm, raising an eyebrow in question. Micah shakes his head like I’m being ridiculous but removes the offending appendage while Ella explains, “Micah was telling me about the letter you write to God. The one where you tell Him the one non-tangible thing you want for Christmas and then place the letter on the tree. On Christmas Eve, you open it and read it aloud so that He hears your request. It’s a neat way to pray.”

“And that’s funny, how?” I ask, turning my body so they can pass by me and head to breakfast. I follow them to make sure they get to their destination without any further detours or delays. My stomach is rumbling, and these two are standing between my breakfast taco and me.

At the end of the hallway, Micah looks over his shoulder at me with a smirk and his eyes dancing with mischief. “The funny part is that Ella and I both want the same thing.”

“Wi-Fi?” I joke.

Ella spins around and cocks her head to the side. “That reminds me. How is it that you survive up here without the internet or cell service? How do you communicate with the rest of the world?”

I laugh and usher them into the dining room, which is now loaded with enough food to feed the entire population of Lake George. I sit at the head of the table and wait for the kids to fill their plates. “We’ve been staying at my parents’ house since we relocated here right before the start of the school year. It took over two months before I closed the deal on our humble abode, and we moved in a little less than a month ago. Unfortunately, it used to be a rustic getaway where people were expected to disconnect from the outside world. That means that the internet company is going to have to lay down fiber optic wiring, which they can’t do until the ground thaws. It also means we won’t have Wi-Fi until late March or early April if we’re lucky.”

“It’s why we can only play against each other on the gaming console and not against other people. We’re off-line,” Micah says. He’s always been an upbeat kid, but I can hear the disappointment in his tone that he won’t be able to play against his friends back in California unless he’s at my parents’ house.

Isaac and Jonah both have ear-to-ear smiles. “But now you get to play with us!” Jonah exclaims.

Micah rubs his curly mop and winks. “Yeah, Buddy. I do.”

When Bailey finally sits down and fixes herself a plate, I again notice that her portions are small. Her eyes meet mine, and they silently beg me not to say anything. She engages with the kids, talking about what cookies they are going to make after breakfast. Gingerbread and shortbread cookies top the list because of the icing adventure that occurs once the treat has cooled. I’ve always been partial to chocolate chip no matter what time of year it is, but I keep my opinion to myself since today is about the kids doing something they love.

Micah and Ella are the first to finish, and they wrangle up the rest of the monkeys to help clear the dishes. Bailey grabs Ava’s plate and places it in front of her, finishing off the other half of two pancakes stacked on top of one another and a few bites of scrambled eggs. There’s one strip of bacon left on the platter that she stares at longingly, but she gestures for me to take it.

“I know you believe that bacon should be its own food group, Finn. Go ahead and take it so that I can clear the rest of the dishes,” she tells me. It’s the first word she has spoken to me since our conversation earlier was interrupted.

I stand up and stack the few remaining dishes, taking the strip of bacon and placing it on her plate. “You can have the last piece, Bailey. I’ll take care of the clean-up since I have six dishwashers available to help. Sit, relax, and breathe.”

She sighs and gives me a timid smile. “Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to do that. Thank you, Finn.”

I take a load of dishes into the kitchen and notice all the kids huddled together by the Christmas tree and not by the gaming console like I expected. When they notice me watching them like a hawk, they all giggle before scattering like a bunch of mice.

Ella and Micah come over and give me a hand—Micah bumping me out of the way to get to the sink. After turning the water on, he asks, “Why don’t you and Bailey spend some time getting reacquainted? Ella and I will do the dishes. Mia is going to read to Ava while Isaac and Jonah are going to dig through Mom’s box of kitchen supplies you have stored in the basement.”

I spread my feet and cross my arms, glaring at the pair of teens. “What are you guys up to? Micah, you’ve never once volunteered to do dishes.”

He shrugs. “Last I checked, I was up to 5′11″ and still growing. Look, Finn. We just want to do something nice for you. Bailey is going to help us bake cookies, and you can help clean up that mess. Let’s just call it even.”

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I do an about-face and head back toward the dining room. When I pass through the open French doors, I halt in my tracks when I notice that Bailey is crying.

She doesn’t look at me although she heard me enter the room. “Finn, I know how much you hate to see a girl cry, so I’m going to spare you the awkwardness. I’m fine, but I just need a few minutes alone.”