Single All the Way (Single Dads of Dragonfly Lake #2)

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ben

C hristmas Eve had arrived, and I wasn’t proud to admit, by the time I closed the clinic at three, I was ready to tell the world to fa-la-la-la fuck off.

How many times over the past month had I envisioned how special this Christmas would be with Emerson and her kids under our roof? How harmonious and loud and full of laughter, with used wrapping paper covering the living room floor and hugs of gratitude overtaking the day?

She and her kids would be under our roof, but everyone’s spirits had dimmed. The kids had no true idea what had happened between Emerson and me, but they could sense something was off. They saw how we interacted—stiffly and politely—every time we came into contact. Throw on top of it the still-present disappointment that Kizzy and her wife were missing the big day, and everything was just…off. Un-fucking-merry.

I trudged toward the house after my staff had left. The sky was heavy, the clouds low and dark with more impending snow, but not even a white Christmas was going to fix my mood.

The horses and llamas were tucked away in the barn. Evelyn had insisted the chickens needed some fresh air, so we’d left their house open, allowing the birds to roam in their pen while it was light out, but only Cayenne and Ginger were braving the cold air. The others had the right idea as far as I was concerned.

What I wouldn’t give to burrow deep in my bed and sleep the afternoon away. I didn’t want to dampen the kids’ excitement, but I just couldn’t act like everything was fine.

I wasn’t fine. I wasn’t in the same zip code as fine.

The more time that passed without Emerson wrangling her fears, the clearer it became: This had been my last chance with her, and my last chance was fizzling out in failure.

I went into the house, shed my coat, and inhaled the smell of recently popped popcorn. The washing machine was running in the laundry room, which told me Berty was doing a load of the kids’ clothes even though I’d insisted I would take care of the chore.

I found Evelyn and Berty in the living room, Berty reading a paperback and my daughter doing a word search in an activity book, both with a bowl of popcorn at their side. Christmas music played quietly from a speaker.

When she saw me, Ev jumped up and gave me a hug. “Hi, Daddy! How was work?”

Her happiness coaxed a smile from me. “Work was good. Lots of cats in today, including five kittens from one litter.”

“Can we get one?”

That pulled a genuine laugh out of me. “No room at the inn, dear daughter. The Holloway house is full up.”

“But when Miss Emerson takes Nugget and Xavier and Sky and moves to a house, we’ll have four spots open.”

The truth of that hit me in the chest like a steel beam, but I did my best to hide it, instead sharing an amused look with Berty.

“We’re not getting any new pets, vacancies or not.”

“The humans are already outnumbered,” Berty added.

“Kittens are so cute though.”

“Maybe you could draw a picture of a cat family,” Berty suggested.

Evelyn considered that. “Okay, I’ll try it.” She sat back down on the floor, pulled out a sketch pad from under the activity book, and started drawing.

“Are the others upstairs?” I asked.

“Last I knew they were building a blanket fort, hoping you’d let them sleep in it tonight,” Berty said.

I headed upstairs.

“Wow. What alternate blanket universe have I walked into?” I asked when I stepped into Ruby’s room. They must’ve absconded with every blanket in the house.

“Hey, Dad!” Ruby called from inside the fort.

“Hi, Dr. Ben! This is my room over here,” Xavier said, his head popping up from between two blankets hanging on the far side of the room.

“Architects in training, huh?”

“We have a kitchen and two bedrooms and a living room and a game room,” Ruby said, her voice getting closer as she presumably crawled through the tent. She popped out near me and hugged my legs.

“Where’s Skyler?”

“She’s not in here.” My daughter stood and surveyed the fort from the outside.

“I think she’s with Evelyn,” Xavier said, poking his head out of a different space.

I frowned. “She wasn’t with Ev. I’ll check her room. Happy decorating.”

Forty-five seconds later, I’d checked Evelyn and Skyler’s room, the bathroom, and Emerson’s room, which I needed to start thinking of as the guest room again, but found no Skyler.

With alarm beginning to pulse through me, I poked my head back in Ruby’s room. “You’re sure Sky’s not in here hiding somewhere? I can’t find her.”

“Skyler!” Ruby called.

“She’s not in my room or the game room,” Xavier said, his voice moving under the blanket roof as he searched. “Not in our kitchen.”

“Check under your real beds too,” I said and went to do the same in the other two bedrooms. I looked behind the shower curtain and scanned all the closets. “Shit.”

“She’s not in there,” Ruby said, exiting her room with a concerned look.

The three of us thundered down the stairs. “Check the laundry room and bathroom.” I went into the living room. “We can’t find Sky.”

Berty shot up out of the chair quickly for her age. “Did you check Ev’s room?”

“I checked everywhere upstairs. The kids are looking in the laundry room.”

“What about the barn and the chicken house?” she asked.

“I’m on my way.” I strode toward the mudroom.

Evelyn sped past me. “I’ll go look in the chicken house, Dad.”

“She’s not anywhere,” Ruby said, coming out of the laundry room with Xavier behind her. “I’m worried, Daddy.”

I summoned every ounce of confidence I could and said, “Let’s not panic yet. You two get your coats on and check the workshop and the garage.”

All four of us grabbed our coats and headed outside, scattering in different directions.

As I jogged to the barn, my panic crept higher. I didn’t want Emerson to go through this fear again: the searching, the not knowing. I understood very well what it’d done to her last time.

The what-ifs and the worst-case scenarios were knocking on my brain, taunting me. Skyler might as well be my own daughter. I loved her as if she were. It was no longer just about her and Xavier being Blake’s children. Not even just because they were Emerson’s. They were part of our family, regardless of my relationship with their mom.

With my heart pounding, I slid the main barn door open and rushed in. The lights were low, and at first I didn’t see anyone, but then I caught a glimpse of brown hair at the opposite end.

“Sky?”

Her head popped out from Esmerelda’s stall—about four feet above the ground.

“Sweetie, what are you doing?” I jogged closer, not believing my eyes.

She was sitting in the llama’s empty hay bin that attached to the half wall, smiling as big as day, Waylon the elephant next to her, Esmerelda’s snout close by. Skyler had apparently shoved the large bin of cat food over to the wall, climbed up on it, then crawled over the shorter stall wall, plush elephant in tow.

“Sharing,” she said proudly, holding up a half-eaten rainbow-sprinkle cookie. Then with her other hand, she held out the zipper bag where the rest were stored.

Esmerelda chomped contentedly, her big eyes following the bag.

I rushed up to Sky on this side of the stall to ensure she wasn’t in any danger, hugging her awkwardly over the wall. “You…” I couldn’t help it. I laughed, feeling lightness in my chest that I hadn’t felt in days, brought on by profound relief and the picture she made, sitting there in the feeding trough, happy as a…llama with a cookie.

I hugged her again. “We were worried about you, Sky Blue. You can’t leave the house without telling an adult.”

“Grandma Berty was busy doing laundry,” she said matter-of-factly, and it was damn hard to muster any true annoyance. “And the llamas needed their Christmas presents.”

“Cookies?”

She nodded once emphatically, looking pleased with herself.

I pulled out my phone and texted Berty.

She’s in the barn. All is well.

To prove my claim, and because you really needed to see this to believe it, I reassured myself the feed bin was secure, then stepped back a few feet, telling her, “Stay still and smile, silly goose.”

We’d have a stern discussion later, when my relief leveled out.

As I went back to Sky’s side, Emerson walked into the barn. “What’s going on? Why’s the door open?”

The sight of her punched me in the gut. She wore an oversized, fuzzy green sweater over leggings, knee-high boots, and a multicolored scarf around her neck. Her long hair was wind-tousled, her cheeks pink, her smile seeming a little more genuine than it had lately. Maybe she was actually feeling some holiday spirit.

“Your daughter’s gotten into a little mischief,” I said lightly.

Emerson’s smile disappeared as she hurried toward us. “Skyler?” She craned her neck as she realized where Sky was. “ What are you doing?”

“Eating cookies with Esmerelda,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world and she hadn’t been scared of the llama just a few weeks ago.

Emerson met my gaze with a questioning one.

“We couldn’t find her for a few minutes. Luckily I looked here first. Everybody’s fine.” I hoisted Skyler and her elephant out of the feed bin and over the wall to our side, hugging her close. “We’ll have a discussion about safety and rules later.”

When I held Sky toward her mom, Emerson surprised me by putting her arms around both of us for a hug. Before now, she’d barely looked me in the eye since leaving last week.

I bit down on the questions that set off in my mind and soaked in the moment of being close to these two people I loved with all my heart.

Emerson, Xavier, and Skyler joined the four of us for our Christmas Eve dinner tradition of spaghetti and meatballs. We cleaned the kitchen as a group so we could take our annual drive around town to look at Christmas lights, with Berty claiming she needed to get home and to bed so she could join us early on Christmas morning. I’d suggested she stay at our place and sleep on the sofa, but she refused, saying her bones were too old for sofas. When Emerson had volunteered to give up her bed, Berty held to her determination to get to her own home.

During our holiday light tour, the snow had started falling in large, peaceful flakes that didn’t stick to the pavement but quickly covered the grass and other surfaces in a white blanket.

Once we returned home, the kids raced out of the truck toward the house. Emerson and I walked more slowly from the garage to the door. She squeezed my forearm, smiled up at me, and said, “That was magical. Thank you.”

I peered down at her, confused as hell. She’d been warmer toward me all evening. It made me wonder if she’d either decided to buy the house she’d toured or decided she needed to stay with us longer—or both. I knew she hadn’t told the kids she was looking at a place, so I had to wait to ask her the status.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about her staying longer just to leave in a few weeks as originally planned. Everything had changed. It was murkier now. I loved having her kids here, and I’d grown attached to her dog. But the tension between us, at least before today, made everything trickier. It made it hard to relax in my own home.

“What’s going on?” I asked her quietly, so the kids wouldn’t hear.

Her smile faded. “We need to talk.” She glanced at the gang of kids clamoring at the door to the house. “Later.”

Her expression seemed meaningful, but I couldn’t figure out what the meaning might be. I was thankful for the warmth, whatever the cause. It was much better than the awkward politeness of the past few days. I couldn’t help but wonder what had changed.

Finally, by nine o’clock, we had the kids in bed, convinced Santa might skip over our house if they weren’t sound asleep.

Emerson was upstairs tucking in Skyler after reading The Night Before Christmas to all four of them, all of us —three times.

I’d come down after turning out the lights in Ruby’s room, where she and Xavier were tucked into their beds after dismantling the giant fort. We’d helped them see reason by pointing out they wouldn’t be able to play with anything new they might get for Christmas if they couldn’t walk through their room.

I was antsy, curious, wondering what Emerson was going to say. I paced the living room, then stopped and tried to get out of my head and appreciate the moment, the quiet. The twinkling lights on the tree soothed me, and I looked at each ornament, some the kids had made, some we’d picked out together, all with memories and meanings.

Emerson came up to my side and aimed her attention at the tree as well.

“Everybody good up there?” I asked.

“They seem to be. The Santa threat works like a charm, doesn’t it?”

“Every year. One of these years, Evelyn will be onto me if she’s not already.”

I wished I had a drink, something to hold on to. I considered offering her some wine or cocoa, but without knowing what she wanted to talk about or how it would go, a beverage seemed like a stall and a distraction.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked, impatient.

She inhaled audibly, and I saw her chest rise with it out of the corner of my eye. I forced my focus back on the tree lights.

Emerson turned to face me, so I followed suit, feigning nonchalance while my pulse sped.

For a second, our gazes met, and I tried to read hers. She averted her eyes too quickly, seeming nervous. That did nothing to help my optimism.

She gripped her own arm at the elbow, which seemed only slightly less closed-off than if she’d crossed her arms over her chest. Or maybe that too was nerves. What the hell was she nervous about?

“I found the perfect house,” she said, peering up at me again and holding eye contact.

Everything in me sank in disappointment, but at the same time, there was a little voice that reminded me I should be happy for her. This was what she’d wanted all along, what she thought would make her happy. I wanted Emerson to be happy.

“That’s great, Ems,” I said, maybe a second or two later than I should’ve. “Tell me about it.”

She shook her head, lowered her gaze for a moment, then met mine again. “I decided not to put an offer in.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s”—she flashed a nervous smile—“not enough room for llamas.”

I narrowed my eyes as I tried to decipher her meaning. “Are you…getting llamas?” As I said it, I had a flash of a thought that maybe she meant my llamas, but that didn’t make sense.

She held out a hand palm up in an invitation for me to take it. I grasped her fingers, hope bubbling up like a hot spring.

“I realized the perfect house sometimes actually isn’t perfect. That one was missing something I don’t want to live without.”

I didn’t breathe, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, I raised my brows in question, about to come out of my skin.

“There’s this guy,” she said, glancing down at our joined hands, her lips fluttering upward into a hint of a smile, “and these two little girls plus some dogs and cats and chickens and horses and”—she pierced me with those sage-green eyes again—“llamas.” She shook her head and laughed. “And I realized I love the guy and the girls and the dogs. Maybe the cats. The chickens I’m not so sure I’d call it love, but the horses have potential, and apparently my daughter loves the llamas. And I’m pretty sure the entire herd comes with the guy, and I figured out…I want the whole herd almost as much as I want the guy.”

I laughed, but it was more than just amusement. So much more. It was elation and disbelief that I could be this lucky. And love.

I stared into her eyes, assuring myself she meant it, that this was real. It wasn’t every day that every dream you’d ever had was suddenly in reach.

“Really?” I said dumbly, aware on some level that a person wouldn’t say all of that if it wasn’t true. I laughed at myself.

Emerson went serious in an instant, and I wondered if I’d misinterpreted after all.

She let go of my hand, worrying me further, then reached under her sweater from the hem and…adjusted her bra?

As she removed her hand, she fell to the floor, or rather, she kneeled. Make that went down on one knee. Gazing up at me with nervousness and love all over her beautiful face.

I caught my breath when I saw the men’s ring she held between her thumb and index finger. “Holy shit, what are you doing, Ems?”

“Ben, I never, ever thought I wanted to get married again, but then you rescued me and my kids by taking us in. And then you rescued me again by loving me so patiently, wholeheartedly, purely, so I could finally, finally pull my head out and realize you’re my other half, and I don’t want to ever live without you. Will you marry me?”

“Get up here,” I said, tugging her off the floor and into my arms, overcome with lightness and pure euphoria. “I’ll marry you, Emerson,” I said, laughing. “I’ll marry you right fucking now if you want me to.”

I pulled her into my arms and wrapped her up in my love as tight as I could, then lifted her off the floor and turned us in a circle. When I set her back down, I gazed into her eyes, my face splitting with an elated grin.

“I love you, Emerson. I can’t believe you proposed. There’s never been a better Christmas present.”

“I love you too. Enough to propose. Phew, that was terrifying.”

“As if I could ever turn you down.”

“I’m so sorry I freaked out and ran away.”

“I’m sorry Kizzy let you down again. I’ll do everything I can not to. You and the kids are first in my life. All four of them.”

“Same.”

I pressed my palms to her cheeks, leaned down, and kissed her, trying to infuse everything in my heart into that kiss. Her body melted into mine, making my need for her pound through me.

“Can we get married as soon as possible?” she asked.

“Like, courthouse soon?”

She nodded. “I want it official before I move into your room. Because of the kids.”

“I’ll marry you the minute the courthouse opens,” I said with no hesitation. “Day after tomorrow. But I have my own condition.”

“Yeah?”

“Going to need you naked in my bedroom to show you how I feel,” I said, “in the next thirty seconds.”

She laughed. “Then you better whisk me in there and rip my clothes off.” She snapped her fingers. “I did the heavy lifting of proposing. Your turn for a little effort.”

I had her in my arms before she finished her sentence.

Once we were in my room, I said, “We’ll make this our new Christmas Eve tradition.”

As I whipped her sweater off and peeled her leggings down, she laughed.

“You were right from the start,” she said. “Traditions are the best. This one is my favorite.”