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With Olivia’s tear-streaked cheeks pressed against my dress, I scan the mall’s lobby, searching for something to lift their spirits. “Hey, we can come back another day, okay?” I tell them, hoping to break the spell of disappointment.
“Really?” Peter asks, his voice wavering as he seeks reassurance.
“Absolutely,” I confirm, giving him a smile that I hope conveys confidence.
“Okay,” Olivia whispers, but her eyes remain filled with doubt.
“Tell you what,” Benedict says, snapping his fingers to get their attention. “How about we find a toy store and each of you can pick out a special treat? It might not be Santa, but it’s still pretty fun, right?”
“You mean it?” Peter’s eyes widen in excitement, and Olivia’s lips curve into a hesitant smile.
“I mean it,” Benedict assures them, his grin infectious. Their tears begin to subside, replaced by the spark of anticipation.
“Thank you!” they chorus in unison, and we set off toward the toy store.
As we walk, I watch Benedict subtly guide the kids through the bustling crowds, making sure they stay close and don’t lose sight of us. His innate protectiveness warms me from the inside out, and I can’t help but marvel at how easily he’s carved a space for himself in our lives.
As we head toward the toy store, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket with an incoming text. I pull it out and glance at the message from an unknown number, only to stop in my tracks.
You can’t stay away from me forever. I will find you.
I feel the air leave my chest. It’s impossible. He must just be trying to get a reaction from me. There’s no way he knows where I am.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that I’m safe, my children are safe.
As if nothing is amiss, the toy store beckons us with its colorful displays and cheerful atmosphere. Benedict hasn’t noticed anything is wrong, his attention focused on my children. He leads the way, holding Olivia’s hand as they step through the entrance. Peter skips ahead, eager to explore the aisles of exciting treasures.
“Alright, you two,” Benedict says, surveying the store. “Let’s find something special for each of you.”
“Can we really pick anything?” Peter asks, his eyes wide with wonder.
“Of course,” Benedict replies, ruffling Peter’s hair affectionately. It’s a simple gesture, but it tugs at my heartstrings.
“Thank you, Uncle Benedict!” Olivia gushes, wrapping her arms around his leg in an impromptu hug. My chest tightens at the sight; I’ve never seen someone else do so well with the kids.
“Aw, you’re welcome, kiddo,” Benedict says, patting her head gently before guiding her toward the doll section.
“Mom, can you help me choose?” Peter calls from across the store, waving a toy car in one hand and an action figure in the other. I quickly block the unknown number, delete the threatening message, and focus my attention on my son, giving him a nod and making my way over. We leave Benedict and Olivia to their own search.
As I assist Peter in making his decision, I steal glances at Benedict. He kneels beside Olivia, listening intently as she describes why she likes each doll, their heads bent together in quiet conversation.
How can a man without a kid act like a better father than their real one?
“Mom! I made up my mind!” Peter’s voice brings me back to reality. I force a smile and congratulate him on his choice, but my thoughts are still swirling with emotion.
I am falling for Benedict—there’s no denying it any longer. But love is the last thing I need right now. No, what I need is stability, security, and to focus on this new home for the kids, a place where we’ll be safe. Love is a distraction I can’t afford, even if it’s tempting me from every angle.
“Ready to check out?” Benedict asks as he and Olivia approach us, her chosen doll cradled in her arms.
“Sure,” I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. We head to the register, each step bringing me closer to the realization that I have to confront my feelings for Benedict before they consume me completely.
29
HARPER
The door swings open as we step into the warmth of our home, the chilly air outside relinquishing its grip on us. Peter’s cheeks are flushed, and Olivia has her arms wrapped around herself, her teeth chattering ever so slightly and her little nose pink.
“Mom, can we go back when Santa comes back from the north pole?” Peter asks, tugging on my sleeve. I can’t help but smile at his eagerness.
