Page 65 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
We haven't met yet, but somehow, I already know… you’re going to be the greatest adventure of my life.
I love you more than words can hold, princess. And I can't wait for the moment I finally get to hold you in my arms.
Love,
Dad
Tears well behind my lashes, but this time they aren’t from fear or heartbreak. They’re from the quiet ache of hope. And god, does it ache. I stand there for a long time, surrounded by roses, holding the stuffed pig in one hand and the notes in the other. No one—not even after I gave birth—has ever made me feel so seen.
And yet…
After the initial rush of sweetness fades, questions settle in.
What does this mean, really?
What is Shane trying to say?
That he’s sorry? That he wants in? That he thinks he can make up for everything with flowers and gifts?
Is this how he solves conflict? By throwing grand gestures at it? Is that sustainable? Is that fair?
Or am I just overanalyzing again?
Even with all the doubt whispering at the edges, the warmth from the gesture lingers. I smile. I breathe in the scent of the flowers, and for a moment, I let myself savor it.
I take the pink pig home, and like I knew she would, Luna clutches it with her chubby fingers and refuses to let go. And sure enough, she fell asleep with it. Small win. Tiny joy. I’ll take it.
***
The next day, the morning of the Avalanche home game against the Maple Leafs, I arrive at my office with a much more professional mindset. I’m focused. I’m here to do my job, and do it well. Whether I stay in Denver long-term or not, I want the choice to be mine, not made for me because I’ve fumbled something I used to love.
I step into my office and come to a sudden halt.
I’d somehow forgotten about the roses from yesterday. But now, another surprise greets me.
Sitting on my desk is a tower of gold-trimmed boxes, each one slightly larger than the last, tied together with a wide, satinyblack ribbon. Elegant. Luxurious. Names of chocolates I’ve never heard of.
La Maison du Chocolat, Pierre Moarcolin, and Teuscher.
The scent of rich cocoa and caramel hits me before I even touch the ribbon, and it makes my stomach growl. I haven’t eaten much today, and this feels like an invitation. A temptation.
I undo the ribbon and lift the lid of the top box. Inside, nestled in gold-foil wrappers and silk compartments, is a lineup of perfectly crafted chocolates—some drizzled with dark ganache, others topped with sea salt, or filled with creamy or fruity centers.
And tucked on top? A folded note.
Leighton,
Every bite of this is a pale comparison to what I remember of you, but maybe it’ll remind you how sweet things can still be between us.
I meant what I said about wanting more. Not just of you, but for you. For Luna. Let me show you the man I should’ve been from the start.
I’m sorry.
Love,
SJ
My fingers tremble slightly as I refold the note. Something about it hits deeper than I expected. Maybe it’s the honesty.Maybe it’s the way he still manages to turn even a box of chocolates into something laced with tension and tenderness at once.
