Cabin Fever With My First Flame (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

15. Bailey

Chapter fifteen

Bailey

“I’ve never stopped loving you, Bailey Bug. You’ve always been my forever, even if you gave up believing I’m yours.”

I feel like such a schmuck for making the same mistake Finn did all those years ago and believing the worst without having all the facts. I’m really glad it didn’t take us another 18 years before the truth came out, but I’m not sure I’m ready to process what Finn just said or that fact he pulled away. It’s for the best because, for a minute, I lost myself in his kiss.

The sweet feel of Finn’s lips against mine makes me want to throw all caution out the window and leap without a parachute, but I still have three girls to think about and a shipping container of boxes to unpack. I have a business I need to get off the ground, and yet I don’t even have a home that I can call my own. I’m feeling adrift in a sea of overwhelming emotions, tasks, and responsibilities with nothing but Ava’s arm floaties to keep me from sinking.

“Finn, what am I supposed to say to that?”

He pushes off the washer and takes a step back. “I don’t expect you to say anything, Bailey. I simply thought you should know how I feel about you—how I’ve always felt about you.”

“We can’t simply pick up where we left off, Finn. There’s too much history, and we aren’t the same people anymore,” I tell him. Although the idea of rekindling our relationship is becoming more appealing with every subtle hint he drops.

Finn makes his way over to the stairs and leans on the railing. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean we can’t wipe the slate clean and start over. If I could have one thing for Christmas, I’d ask for a second chance. But if you’re not ready or that’s not what you want, then I’d rather have your friendship than nothing at all. How about we start there? If, or when, you decide you want more, I’ll be waiting with arms wide open. I’ve waited 18 years to make things right. I can wait as long as you need.”

I hop off the dryer, my butt having gone numb due to the constant vibration. “Be honest with me, Finn. Are you really okay with being just friends if that’s what I decide, even after our shared history? Do you believe it’s possible to be only friends because that’s where I’d like to start for now?”

“It’s not what I want, but I’ll take what I can get, Bailey. If it means you and the girls get to be a part of our lives, then yes, I’m okay with being friends. The question is, are you?” He pounds the banister twice with his fist to end the conversation and heads upstairs.

I check the timer on the dryer and note that there’s half an hour left on the cycle before I go trudging up the stairs. I make my way to the kitchen, where Finn has a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me. “You really are a hero,” I whisper, taking the mug from his hands. “Thank you.”

He chuckles. “You don’t have to whisper. The kids most likely won’t be up for another couple of hours, and Micah moved to my room so that we didn’t have to tiptoe around. Ava is out like a light and still asleep on the recliner.”

I smile and blow on the coffee. “She can sleep through a hurricane.”

Finn leans casually against the counter. “Did you get a lot of those?”

“Hurricanes? A few, but most of them were storms by the time they hit our area. Hurricane Sandy was the worst, but we evacuated for that one. We lived far enough inland that the flooding didn’t affect our home. The restaurant, on the other hand, took almost a month to clean up and most of our savings to get operational. It was another year before we were back in the black.”

“What was the name of your restaurant?” Finn asks.

“Eclecticity.”

Deep lines form between Finn’s eyes as he digests the name, no pun intended. “Interesting name for a restaurant. Although I wouldn’t know what kind of food you served with a name like that.”

“That’s the point, but Daniel thought it was a dumb name, too, and we fought for months over it. I had just graduated from culinary school and loved to make all kinds of ethnic foods. As you know, Mexican food is my favorite, but l also love the rich spices of Indian food. Then there’s Southern comfort food, Asian fusion, Italian, and French. The list goes on and on and I couldn’t decide. I wanted to do them all, and so I did.”

“How?” Finn asks, genuinely curious how I could accomplish such a feat.

“Every month, we featured a new cuisine. Man, you should have seen the spice pantry. If a spice existed, we had it.”

Finn pours himself a glass of milk and unwraps the plate of chocolate chip cookies. There’s significantly less on the plate than when I gave it to him yesterday. “That name makes perfect sense with your menu. I think it’s great. Are you planning on doing something like that in Lake George?”

I grab one of the cookies and dunk it in my coffee. “Probably not. Running a restaurant of that magnitude took up so much of my time and energy. Even though I loved it, I love my girls more. I want to be able to spend time with them before it’s too late. I have my food truck for festivals and concert venues, but I was thinking of opening up a small bakery once I get the proceeds from the sale of the house.”

Finn dunks a cookie in his glass of milk, and his eyes roll back in his head as he savors the treat. “Best bweakfast evah!” he says with his mouth full. He finishes chewing and swallows before asking me, “If you started a bakery—which is an amazing idea, by the way—what would you call it?”

“You’re going to think it’s silly,” I say with downcast eyes. Daniel never liked my creative spin on anything but usually gave up the fight since he wasn’t the one making the dishes or doing the actual work in the kitchen. He managed the books because he excelled at numbers.

Finn sets down his glass and lifts my chin so that I can see his earnest expression. “It’s okay to be silly. It’s your shop. It’s your choice. Please tell me. I promise I won’t laugh.”

I mumble, “Baileys and Buttercream.”

“That’s a perfect name for a bakery, Bailey. Can I assume that buttercream icing will be a staple? I beg you to make it a staple because if you do, you have at least one customer for life,” Finn asks, his eyes sparkling with delight. I perfected my buttercream icing years ago because that was Finn’s favorite, and he has always wanted it on his birthday cakes. Even my pastry arts teacher raved about it.

“It might be,” I tease. “Enough about me. I want to hear about your adventures. I bet smoke jumping was exciting and dangerous.”

“It wasn’t like I moved to California and went right into jumping out of airplanes. I served as a firefighter for Lake Tahoe for ten years before I was trained as a smoke jumper. I’ve broken my leg twice when the winds shifted and have ended up landing in a tree on more than one occasion.”

I gasp. “Oh, no! Was that the worst injury you ever had?”

He shakes his head and pulls up his pant leg. “You’ll almost never see me wear shorts because of this.” Underneath his sweatpants is a mass of scar tissue from a severe burn. “It took several skin grafts to make it look this sexy.”

I reach out and touch it lightly. “Does it still hurt?”

He chuckles. “It hurt like the dickens when it happened six years ago, but I don’t feel anything there now. You could poke me with a needle, and I wouldn’t feel it.”

“What happened?” I ask.

Finn’s face falls. “We were fighting a fire at an abandoned lodge. A couple of kids thought it would be cool to camp out in the vacant building, but their campfire got out of control. They were trapped, and our team went in to rescue them. Jenny’s husband and the boys’ father, Josiah, was with me when a beam collapsed and fell on us both. I was able to get out from underneath the beam, but Josiah was knocked out cold. I had a choice to make. Save the kids or save Josiah. I couldn’t do both.”

I set my coffee cup down and wrap my arms around his waist, letting his tears fall on me as he embraces me back. He continues his story. “I thought that Jenny and the kids would hate me and blame me for his death once they found out. But they didn’t. Jenny said that Josiah would have done the same thing if the roles had been reversed. Josiah knew the risks. They all did. Jenny lost her husband, and the boys lost their father, and I got a constant reminder of my failure.”

I run my finger down Finn’s cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t fail, Finn. I didn’t know Josiah, but if he loved firefighting as much as you do, then he died doing what he loved. Two lives were saved because of his actions and yours. Maybe those kids will go on to do something that will save countless more lives. You never know what God’s plan is.”

Finn releases me, so I let my arms drop down by my side. “Thanks, Bailey. When I said that Micah, Isaac, and Jonah had seen loss, now you know what I meant. Then Jenny died last year after getting really sick. I have contemplated giving up being a firefighter so that they don’t have to endure any more loss.”

Micah walks in at that moment and heads straight for the coffee pot. He reaches for a mug and sets it on the counter before turning and facing Finn. “Loss is a part of life, Finn. If you give up what you love most, then a piece of you will die inside. You won’t be Finn anymore, but rather a shell of the man we know, love, and respect.”

Finn brushes past me to place a hand on Micah’s shoulder. He looks the young teen squarely in the eyes. “I’d give up everything because I love you more.”

Micah hugs Finn and says, “I know you would, but we love you enough that we would never ask you to.”

They hold their embrace until Micah pushes away. “So enough mushy stuff. What’s for breakfast?”

“Oatmeal,” I tease. “I’m in the mood for mushy.”

Micah groans. “Oatmeal is boring. It’s like eating flavorless boogers.”

Finn barks out a laugh. “And what is a booger supposed to taste like, Micah? Do tell!”

Micah blushes. “I’ll rephrase. I imagine it’s like eating flavorless boogers.”

Mia walks in wearing her flannel jammies. “There are booger-flavored jellybeans. There are even ones that taste like dirt and earwax. Maybe you should ask whoever created those how they know what a booger tastes like.”

“Thanks, Mia, for the lesson on flavor profiles. How about we change the subject?” I suggest, getting a little grossed out by the topic of conversation. “I was thinking about making French toast eggs-in-a-hole.”

Ava peeks her head over the back of the recliner, her blond hair a matted mess and a crust of drool down her chin. “I want my hole to be a snowflake!”

Mia turns to her sister. “Then it’s not a hole, Ava. It’s eggs-in-a-snowflake.”

Ava scowls and sticks out her tongue. “I. Don’t. Care. Mia. Potato—Tomato.”

Mia opens her mouth to correct Ava, and I stop her before this has a chance to devolve into a full-blown argument. “You both know the rule. Two cups of coffee, then it’s fair game. I’ll make the second cup last until well past noon if you can’t rein it in.”

I pull out a bowl and another two dozen eggs. I whip up a French toast mixture with cinnamon, vanilla, and a hint of maple syrup stirred in. Isaac and Jonah make their way downstairs as if they know breakfast is about to be made.

Since my daughters already know how to make this dish, I teach Isaac and Jonah how to make eggs-in-a-hole, except the toast will be French toast. Micah watches intently and absorbs information like a sponge. I take a loaf of bread and set them out on a sheet of wax paper and then lay out the various cookie cutters. “You can use any cookie cutter available as long as it fits inside the crust of the bread. It’s important to keep the crust intact.”

By the time I have breakfast made, there are every manner of Christmas shapes. There are snowflakes, gingerbread men, snowmen, Christmas trees, stars, candy canes, stockings, and mittens.

Finn looks at the plates and chortles. “At least no one will argue about whose is whose.”

We all take our plates and sit at the dining room table, which Ella and Micah have set with condiments and glasses of juice. Finn says grace. “Heavenly Father, thank You for Your provisions and for gathering us all here together. We thank You for providing us shelter, not only with a roof over our heads but with Your protection during this storm. We thank you for the hands that have prepared this food and for family and friendships, new, old, and renewed. Your grace is sufficient, and Your mercy endures forever. Your love is unconditional and unfailing. In Your name, we pray, Amen.”

“Amen.”