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Seeing her on her walks.
Dinner at the inn.
That fun night out at the bar.
I want to have more of those moments, but I’m not sure if I should tell Penelope that.
Do I try to convince her to stay? Or do I let her walk away and get back to her life?
Now that I know she’s rich and famous, I doubt she’ll ever be happy in a town like this. Sure, she seems at ease here, but it’s like when you’re on vacation. It’s not real life and won’t last forever.
Small-town life isn’t for everyone. Hell I don’t even know if it’s for me, but someone who’s famous is used to fancy dinners, expensive shopping, and high-rise apartments. Not local diners, tiny stores, and a little house that could probably fit inside a penthouse closet.
Nora yawns and rubs her eyes, the telltale signs she’s tired.
“Okay little one, let’s get you ready for bed,” I say.
“But Dad, I’m not tired,” she says through another yawn.
“Uh-huh, so that yawn is just something you do all the time?”
She giggles in response. “Okay, you got me, I’m feeling sleepy, but I don’t want to go to bed yet.”
“I know, but you need to. Here, hop on my back and I’ll give you a ride to your bedroom.”
I get up and she stands on the couch so she can reach my back. Wrapping her little arms around my neck, she climbs on. I give her a piggyback ride to her room, depositing her on the bed.
“Okay, you get changed into your pajamas and I’ll get your toothbrush and hairbrush ready in the bathroom. Meet you in a few,” I say over my shoulder as I leave her bedroom.
I’m trying to act like everything is normal, so that Nora doesn’t feel my anxiety, but my stomach is in knots. I head into the bathroom to get everything ready for Nora’s nighttime routine.
She comes galloping in a few seconds later, her curls flying around. She climbs up on her stool so she can see in the mirror. She may be seven, but she’s short for her age, a trait she got from Michelle.
Once she’s done brushing her teeth, I braid her curls, and tuck her into bed. I wrap the blanket around her like I always do, and kiss her goodnight.
“Sweet dreams, my love,” I say as I leave her room. “See you in the morning.”
I change into my sweatpants and pour a glass of scotch before bed. Today has been exhausting. From finding out who Penelope really is to the paparazzi and her car being fixed, my mind is all over the place.
Taking my glass, I sit by my Christmas tree, attempting to calm my racing thoughts.
If Penelope had told me who she was the first day I met her, would I have given her a chance? Probably not. As much as I hate the fact that she lied, I understand why she did it. I don’t like it, but deep down, I do understand.
I sip my drink, letting my thoughts wander, and by the time the glass is empty, I’ve made a decision.
Tomorrow, I’ll go to the inn and talk to her. Tell her that I forgive her. That I wish she hadn’t lied, but I don’t want her to go.
Satisfied with my decision, and eager to talk to Penelope tomorrow, I put my glass in the sink. The men still gather on the sidewalk with their cameras around their necks.
Don’t these people sleep?
Shaking my head, I turn off all the lights except the subtle glow of the Christmas tree, and head to bed. The faster I go to sleep, the faster I can have a conversation with Penelope.
And hopefully sort this all out.
I just hope it won’t be too late.
Chapter Thirty
