“Okay, I have to go, my friend is waiting, but I’ll see you boys back at Mrs. B’s house later. Thanks for looking after me, you are both so brave. Bye, Landon.” I try to make my quick escape, but I’m no more than one step away when Landon’s large hand wraps tightly around my biceps.
“Poppy.” His deep voice should come with a warning, as it sends a shiver through me. Turning to look over my shoulder, our eyes connect, and the emotion I see in him is not like before; there’s a softness I wasn’t expecting. “Thank you.”
And with just two words, he stirs something inside me I’m not in the right place for right now.
Deep longing to take away his pain.
I just nod, pull my arm back, and hurry away. Because this is not my problem to solve.
Chapter Three
LANDON
Driving the boys home from an almost disastrous trip to see Santa, I get lost in my thoughts.
So many emotions are going through my head.
Sadness for the boys and—one of my favorites that comes and goes—anger at Lucinda for leaving us here all alone. I know it’s not her fault, but it doesn’t make that anger go away.
And now I can add confusion over my feelings for Poppy into the mix.
Who the hell is she, and why am I so attracted to her? And how did she manage to defuse that problem so quickly? She has never met the boys before, yet she had them both eating out of the palm of her hand in minutes.
I’ve gotten used to feeling so much hurt in my chest, but every time she looks at me it’s like I feel just a little lighter.
What even is that, and why is it happening with a woman who is only here for a fleeting couple of weeks?
It’s like the universe is playing with my emotions, and that pisses me off.
I don’t know if I’m ready to move on, but surely if it’s time for it to happen, life wouldn’t be so cruel to send me Poppy and then just take her away again.
For fuck’s sake, surely I deserve a break in this world.
“Dad, I’m hungry, how long until we get home?” Nash asks from the back seat like he wasn’t just about to have a meltdown in the Santa line.
“Me too,” Kade pipes up.
“We are still about twenty minutes from home, and then I’ll make you some lunch,” I tell them, trying to think what I have in the fridge for them.
“But Mommy always took us to McDonald’s after we saw Santa.” Nash’s voice starts to wobble again. And this is why I’m no good at this shit. I don’t know the rules or traditions. I’m relying on my six-year-old to point me in the right direction. Great parenting.
“Sorry, bud, I forgot. Looks like drive-through it is.” I smile at them both in my rearview mirror as they fist bump each other and scream, “Yes!” at the top of their voices.
I need to start a note in my phone listing all the traditions they had with their mother so I don’t forget the things that are important to them. Last Christmas was such a blur, as we were all still in the depths of grief, plus Lucinda’s parents were visiting for the holidays and they took over for me. I’m blessed to have great in-laws, but this year they are spending Christmas with Lucinda’s brother, who lives in France now. They offered to take the boys with them to make it easier for me because they know how busy the bar is this time of year, but it was a hard no for me. I might be hopeless at this parenting stuff, but I need my boys home with me. They are the only family I have left, and there is no way I can bear to be without them.
After swinging through the drive-through for Happy Meals, we arrive home, and the boys pile out of the car the moment it comes to a stop in the garage.
“Guess I’ll get rid of the trash then, will I?” I call after them as they disappear into the house and I’m left looking at the back seat covered in food wrappers and discarded toys. This time they were books, and apparently that just wasn’t good enough in their eyes.
I unload all the trash into the kitchen bin, and then hear the sound of the LEGO box being tipped upside down and a million pain-inflicting pieces hitting the floor.
“Have you two changed out of your good clothes yet?” I call out toward the family room at the back of the house. I don’t need the answer, as I hear the stampede of little feet running toward both their bedrooms. It has taken a while, but I finally have them sleeping in their own rooms since we moved in. Not that I pushed them at all, because I understand they use each other as a safe place, especially at night when I’m not here.
There have been times when I have seriously considered selling the bar, just so the boys would have me home with them at night, but then I don’t know what else I would do. This is all I know. I started working in a bar as soon as I was old enough to wash a glass and sweep floors. I graduated to pouring liquor as soon as I turned twenty-one, and I have never looked back. Plus, I don’t think I could cope with someone else running the bar I named after my wife.
Glancing at the clock on the microwave, I see I have a couple of hours before Renee will be here to watch the kids tonight. That leaves me just enough time to do the laundry, iron my clothes for tonight, and arrange for an online grocery order to be delivered tomorrow. I’m looking forward to tomorrow, as Sunday night is my only night off when the bar is closed.
“Love a good weekend of domesticity,” I mumble to myself as I head for the bathrooms to collect the dirty laundry and think about what ingredients I’ll need to order so I can prep the meals for the rest of the week.
