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Mathew materialized. “I want some drawing pencils. Dianna said we could work on our drawing.”
“You got it, kiddo.”
* * *
He shouldn’t have doneit. He should have walked right on by the florist and let her be. But now he was back in front of his cabin, holding a single rose. He was going to regret it, but the funny thing was that he didn’t care.
In this moment, he was prepared to give her the rose. He wasn’t sure why just yet. All he knew was that he wanted her to have it and he didn’t expect anything in return.
The sack in his other hand dangled and bounced against his leg with the breeze that pulled at him.
Before he could reach for the doorknob, the door swung open, revealing Mathew with Dianna behind him. They were both bundled up and ready to head out into the snow.
Dianna sucked in sharply, but Mathew let out an excited, unintelligible noise. “Dad! You’re back!” He tugged at the bag. “Did you bring me the pencils?”
“Sure did.” Tristan’s gaze locked with Dianna’s. “But it looks like you have other plans in mind.” They continued to stare at one another like they had before he left. Then he jolted forward. “I got you this.” He shoved the single red rose surrounded with baby’s breath in her direction. “I’ll let you two get to it.” Tristan brushed past her and headed inside. He didn’t want her to overthink his offering.
Or maybe he did.
He just didn’t want it to blow up in his face and end up having to explain why he got it for her. Tristan placed his hands down on the counter, his back toward the door. When it clicked shut, he released a breath that had been locked in his lungs.
There were two ways to look at this most recent interaction. He could pray this was a step in the right direction—that Dianna was pleased with his offering. Or the more likely scenario—she wanted him to just forget about her.
Tristan removed the items from his bags. He placed the pencils on the table next to Mathew’s notebooks, then put away the few odds and ends. Then he moved to the window and watched his son and Dianna building another snowman. It appeared Kimberly had left. She wasn’t inside the cabin. He’d have to ask Dianna why she left early.
Watching the two of them playing only served to ruin his current mood further. Anger, frustration, helplessness. He could no longer find the hope that had been in his heart the other day.
Grace had mentioned it might be a good idea to go on a few dates with someone else—get his mind off things while he played the waiting game. It felt wrong, somehow. But then she made a valid point. Distraction would be a good thing.
He spun around and pulled out his phone.
Shane answered on the first ring. “Just the man I wanted to speak to.”
Tristan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.
His friend chuckled. “I wanted to formally invite you to the Christmas Eve party I’m throwing at the club. It’s going to be family-friendly, so bring Mathew. The whole town is invited, though I don’t expect all of them will come.”
“I—that sounds great.” This could have been the perfect opportunity to bring up needing a date for the party. But then the door opened and Mathew came stomping into the cabin. Snow fell from his boots and he stopped long enough to wait for Dianna to enter.
“I’m sorry. You called me. What’s up?”
Dianna shut the door, then hovered there, watching him.
Tristan turned away and lowered his voice. “Nothing. I mean, I don’t remember. Just… we’ll be there.”
“Great. Oh, and Tristan?”
“Yeah?”
“I know we haven’t discussed it officially, but I wanted to touch base with you about your stay. When do you plan on leaving? Of course you’re welcome to stay as long as you would like to. However, I might need to move you to another location.” He chuckled. “Unless you plan on staying even longer. Perhaps you’d like help finding a place to stay in town?”
The silence on the other end was deafening.
He froze, unable to form any kind of coherent sentence.
“You don’t have to tell me right this second. Keep it in mind, and let me know when you figure it out.”
Tristan dragged a hand down his face and nodded. But then cleared his throat, his voice squeezing out in a rasp. “Thanks. I will.”
