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I stood, admittedly nervous. I had never dated anyone with children before. It was going to add an entirely new dynamic to it all. One I looked forward to, as long as they liked me, that is.Please let them like me. Please let me have a second chance with Patrick—my dream.
I looked down at my tight black turtleneck sweater and classy jeans with boots. It was a far cry from my grocery store outfit. Thankfully, my hair behaved, and I was able to pull it into a messy updo, leaving some tendrils down to frame my face. I didn’t look half-bad for an almost forty-one-year-old divorcée.
With my heart pumping out of control, I headed over to the family suite.
“Congratulations, missy.” Irma came walking down the stairs, carrying a dusting wand in one hand, wearing a leather vest and a skeptical expression. Maybe she was the leader of a granny biker gang; or knowing her, possibly part of the Hells Angels.
I stopped and swallowed hard. “Uh, thank you.” I did not sound like a woman who was happily in love. I probably needed to work on that if we wanted to make this believable. Here’s the thing: I never faked my feelings. Ran from them, sure, but never faked them.
Irma continued her descent, the skepticism growing on her weathered face. “This is all very sudden.”
“Yep.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Hmm.” She pressed her lips together. “I’ll be keeping an eye on him. Something smells suspicious here.”
It smelled like something all right. Like BS. “Well, okay,” I said, sure the high-pitched crack in my voice gave me away. “I’m meeting him and his kids for dinner—excuse me.”
She pointed the dust wand at me. “Does he have something on you? Because if he does, I know people.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or not. Maybe we should have done the more extensive background check on her. “It’s not like that. Actually, we’ve known each other for twenty years.”
She lowered the dust wand. “Is this like one of those long-lost love sort of things?”
“Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I should go. Good night.” I darted off toward the family suite, only to stop in my tracks when I saw the undecorated Christmas tree outside the door. I’d purposely “forgotten” to have it removed. I kept thinking that surely the family didn’t mean to skip Christmas. Not when Patrick loved it so much and it obviously pained his children. I had thought that maybe he didn’t want the tree because he hated me, but I was beginning to wonder if it was Nina he hated. What happened to this family? I had so many questions.
I stood at the door, breathing in the lovely pine scent, knowing the only way to have my questions answered was to knock. But my nerves began to creep in. This was so not like me. I needed the take-charge, apparently evil side I’d gifted to Charlotte. Not that I would say I was evil in a satanic way; I was more like wickedly good at getting my way. You know, except for the whole thing where I was a single divorcée with the first stages of crow’s-feet; and Charlotte was wrong—my boobs were starting to sag a little.
I began to worry that I might not like all the answers. Or what if Patrick and I didn’t like each other? What if his kids hated me? All the worry bubbling up inside me had me turning around. Then the door opened.
“Isabelle,” Patrick’s smooth-but-gravelly voice pierced the air and, let’s be honest, my soul. That was another question I had. How did he do that after all this time? “Where are you going?”
I turned to find him in an apron. I smiled, thinking of the last time I saw him in an apron, in his small condo’s kitchen. He was teaching me how to make sushi. I remembered how adamant he was about making sure the rice was rinsed properly. “You have to make sure the water is clear,” he kept saying. I didn’t even know there was a proper way to rinse rice. He’d taught me a lot on that trip—mostly things about myself. The greatest thing being that I could be vulnerable. I felt more than vulnerable in that moment, staring at him, than I had in years. Could I believe in us this time?
“I’m nervous,” I admitted.
“Me too. I was coming to look for you, thinking you might have second thoughts.”
More like fiftieth thoughts, but I didn’t mention it. “Do you have any?” I needed to know.
He stepped closer to me, as if asking me not to go, not to doubt this time. “The only second thoughts I have are why I didn’t get on a plane twenty years ago to chase after you.”
That was the best thing he could have said in the moment. “I wish you would have.” Maybe then I would have known it wasn’t just a dream.
“I’m here now.”
“You are.” I could hardly believe it.
“Please come in and have dinner with me and my children. I want to properly introduce you.”
I inched forward, trying to ignore the empty tree and all the questions that surrounded it. “Are they okay with this?”
He reached out his hand. “One more than the other, but she’ll get there.”
I stood frozen, not loving the sound of that. At all. The last thing I wanted was to cause a problem for his children, who obviously had lost so much this past year. “Maybe this isn’t a good—”
He took my hand, not waiting for me this time. “Trust me,” he pleaded. “This is a good thing for my family.”
I wanted to trust that more than anything, even though I wasn’t sure how it could be.Belief is an action word,I could hear Charlotte’s voice in my head. I bravely curled my fingers around his, doing my best to believe. “Okay.”
