Page 56 of Peaches & Pistols

“It’s somethin’ else, isn’t it?” Greyson startles me, my hand pressed to my racing heart.

“Hmm?”

“An Andersen Christmas. It’s somethin’ else,” he repeats.

“It is,” I agree. “I’m blown away by their kindness and generosity. Everly said it best. This is the best Christmas she, or I, have ever had.”

Greyson nods, and not for the first time, leaves me dying to know what he’s thinking.

“You’re a really good dad, Greyson. I hope you know that.” I settle on the sofa nearest the fireplace.

Hands in his pockets, Greyson widens his stance and frowns at me. “Alright.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Is that so hard to hear?”

“No. Just don’t know where it’s comin’ from.” His brows furrow deeper.

“From watching you with Harper today.” His face is a stone mask, so I continue.

“I don’t know when you found the time, but you got all the toys Harper’s been gushing over. Even one I only remember her mentioning once, months ago. You wrapped them yourself, with cute little From Santa tags and everything. Then today, you woke up at the crack of dawn when the girls’ eyes popped open, with no complaint. You built the toys, installed the batteries, played on the floor…you even danced with the kids to Christmas music…” I taper off.

Greyson relents and sits a cushion away from me on the couch.

“So, I’m a good dad for doing the bare minimum?” he asks dryly.

“No! I’m trying to give you a compliment,” I rush out, heat rising in my face.

He stretches a solid arm on the back of the couch and crosses his leg, resting his ankle on his knee. The Christmas socks Cecelia put in his stocking are unabashedly on display.

“I take it Carter didn’t do the bare minimum?” he asks, pointedly.

I huff a derisive laugh. “The only time Carter did anything kind for anyone was if it benefited him. A docile wife and adorable daughter were useful for Christmas cards, company parties, and not much else. Otherwise we were in his way. I shielded Everly from as much as I could, and thankfully, her age protected her from understanding the less obvious mistreatment.”

Greyson simmers, nostrils flaring with controlled deep breathing, teeth grinding, cracking his knuckles until they bleach white.

“And your dad?” he bites out.

I don’t think about my parents often, let alone talk about them.

“My parents weren’t cut out for parenthood. Charlie and I used to wonder why they even had us if we were such a kink in their lifestyle.” My lips twitch from sorrow, and I bite the inside of my mouth to regain composure.

“They were wanderers, chronically dissatisfied and unsettled. I lost count how many times we moved growing up, not including before I have memories. When you move that frequently, not much comes with you from place to place. The only time I saw holiday decorations was at school or on TV. As you can imagine there weren’t many special meals, gifts, or acknowledgment. They fed us, clothed us with the basics, and made sure we had what we needed for school.”

He rolls my childhood around in his mind, visibly agitated, not at me, but for me.

“For what it’s worth, you’re doing a hell of a job breaking the cycle, Mia. Your love and dedication to Everly shine brighter than the sun. You’re an amazing mom. You go above and beyond. You sacrifice, lose sleep, and take risks to give her a better life.”

“Thank you,” I manage. “Let’s agree that we’re both good parents and love our kids.” I chuckle. He nods deeply, eyes closed.

I know his history with Harper’s mom is fraught with tension, and by nature, I avoid confrontation at all costs. But I’m compelled to ask the question that’s been burning for months.

“Do you want more children?” Silence hangs thick between us. I immediately want to retract my foolish, intrusive question, but as he often does, Greyson surprises me.

“No. Harper’s it for me.” He scratches at the stubble on his strong jaw, his mind somewhere else. “It’s not that I didn’t want more kids, just wasn’t in the cards for me.”

He clears his throat and looks away from me. “Got a vasectomy when Harper was tiny. I took every precaution and Vanessa still got pregnant. I don’t regret Harper’s existence for a second—but becoming a dad, a fucking single dad, when it wasn’t in my life plan? I needed to control my future and guarantee there’d be no future surprises.”

Despite the weight of his admission, I smile at his phrasing. His cold, gruff, intolerant-of-any-bullshit exterior hides a warm, ooey, gooey heart.