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Her voice had him nearly jumping out of his skin. He spun around and found his daughter climbing up onto one of the stools at the island. She wiggled onto the seat until she was centered, then stared at him.
“I thought you were still asleep,” he said. “I was going to make some cinnamon rolls, then come wake you up.”
“Can I help?” J.J. asked.
She wore her PJs, and her hair was all mussed. Normally, he’d have her do some small part of the task, asking her to get dressed first. But not today. Today, he wanted to cook, side by side, with his daughter.
“Where’s Miss Faith?” she asked.
“She moved back to her parents’ house.” He opened his mouth to say more, but before he could get a word out, her face lit up.
“You didnotblow it with Miss Faith,” J.J. said. “Go tell her to come back. You two belong together.”
Holden’s eyes widened. That was not the response he’d expected. Not by a long shot.
“She’s still in our lives,” he said, turning to face her, breakfast totally forgotten. “But you think we belong together?”
J.J. rolled her eyes—something he normally asked her not to do. Right now, he didn’t mind.
“You’re inlove,” she said. “Anyone can see it. And I like her. A lot. If you blow this one, I’m going to stop speaking to you for at least a week.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her threat. All this time, he’d been worried how she’d feel about him dating. It turned out, she didn’t mind at all—as long as it was the right person.
“So…you don’t mind if I date her?” he asked, just to make sure they were clear.
“Not just date her,” J.J. said. “I want a little sister or brother, so you have to get married. Oh, and I don’t want to call her my stepmom. Stepmoms are mean in fairy tales. She’ll be my second mom.”
As lighthearted as she was being about this, Holden had to know something for sure. “Your mom will never be replaced. You know that, right?”
Again, J.J. rolled her eyes. “I don’t think she replaces my real mom. But how many kids get a second mom? Especially one as cool as Miss Faith. Did you know she worked in real museums?”
“In Europe, at that,” he said.
“I know.” She smiled. “We have to go over there sometime so she can show us. Can we make French toast?”
And just like that, the conversation about Faith was over. She sat on her stool and stirred the batter for the French toast. When the time came, Holden pulled a chair over so she could stand on it, dredge the bread through the batter, and slap the slices of coated bread onto the pan. He supervised the whole thing, but only because he didn’t want her to get injured. She was learning to cook, just as Faith had when she was too young to reach the stovetop without help.
The doorbell rang just as they were taking their final bites of French toast. They still had a few pieces left, but they were both stuffed.
“Is that Miss Faith?” J.J. asked, her face lighting up.
Without waiting for her dad’s answer, she climbed off the stool and rushed from the room. If she’d waited around, he would’ve told her that it couldn’t be Faith. She was moving stuff into her parents’ house that weekend. But that thought was replaced by the sudden realization that she was rushing for the front door with no idea who was on the other side of it.
He’d raised her well, though. When he got to the living room, she was looking out the front window. She turned, her face still lit up. He fully expected her to tell him Miss Faith was standing on the other side of that door. But she surprised him.
“Santa!” she said in a whisper-shout.
Santa? It couldn’t be. New Year’s Day had come and gone. He’d met Faith at the car dealership to sign all her paperwork, and now life was back to normal. If J.J. hadn’t just gotten home from her trip to Gatlinburg, he would’ve been hard at work, but he’d taken the rest of the week off to spend with her before she went back to school on Monday.
“I’ll get it,” Holden said, giving J.J. one of his protective looks. She slid into place behind him as he peered through the peephole.
Yep, it was Santa. He had on that red coat with the white fur trim, but there was no Santa hat on his head. Instead, it was a red ball cap.
“May I help you?” Holden asked as soon as he whipped the door open.
“Good morning!” Santa said, thankfully not uttering the signature “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Holden expected.
“Good morning,” Holden said, but he was frowning at the guy, totally at a loss for what he might be doing here.
