Page 102 of Rules in Love
The contagion spread to Finn, who smiled and yawned as he answered, “We were both wrong. It was worth it, though. Look how happy she is.”
Iris was before us, twirling on her tippy toes, spinning her decoration, and singing a little song she made up as she went along, totally oblivious to the crowd of thousands surrounding her and being at the foot of the biggest Christmas tree she’d ever seen. “Spinning, spinning…yawn…spinning like a…yawn…faiwy on a stwing!”
“Sometimes, I never thought I’d get to share days like this with someone. I hope you know how much this means to me, Scarlett.”
I did because I felt the exact same way. Not wanting to ruin the moment with the tears I could feel brewing, I simply nodded and pressed my lips to Finn’s. It was a picture-perfect moment, made all the more so by the first snowflakes of the season, the Austens’s first in America, falling upon us.
“Daddy! It’s snowing!” Iris continued spinning as Finn brushed the flakes from my nose.
“Snow or no snow, if you don’t stop spinning, you’ll get dizzy and chuck,” laughed Finn.
Ten seconds later, all dizzy and about to chuck—just as her father predicted—Iris gripped what she thought were my legs but belonged to a lady standing beside us.
“Oops, sowwy!” she squeaked and quickly jumped to my side. Her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of Iris hiding behind me and smiled warmly.
“That’s alright, darling. My, aren’t you a cutie? And look, you have beautiful red hair, just like your mommy.”
For a brief moment, it seemed New York fell silent. No one knew what to say or how to move. Except Iris, who didn’t blink and replied with the type of innocent, blunt, kick-you-in-the-teeth frankness that only a kid can manage. “Scawett is not my mummy. My mum’s in Heaven. Scawett is my dad’s giwlfwiend. We just have the same haiw.”
Horrified, the poor woman slapped her hand over her mouth and looked as though she might cry. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”
Giving as much affection as socially appropriate with a complete stranger, I gave her a smile and patted her on the shoulder, “No, it’s fine. Please don’t feel bad. I’m the biggest idiot in the city and say stupider things than that daily. Not that what you said was stupid. No. It’s an easy mistake to make.”
Finn said nothing but avoided our gaze by fidgeting in his pockets and looking down to his shuffling feet.
“Well, okay, then. Have a lovely night. Merry Christmas.” The rosy-cheeked woman and her family moved away as quickly as they could, and Finn and I made no mention of it again all evening.
Scarlett
“Hello there, sleepy head,” whispered Finn as we shuffled down the hall toward Iris’s room, “You’ve been asleep since we left the tree lighting. Ben’s been dropped off at his dad’s, and we’re at home. It’s time for bed, bubs.”
Her little hand laid on his chest, and she smiled when she noticed me walking a step beside them. “Hi, Daddy. Can Scawett please tuck me in?”
“Uhh, if that’s okay with Scarlett, sure.”
I caught up, leaned over Finn’s arm, and kissed her on the forehead. “I would be honored, upside-down Iris.”
“I’m not upside-down, Scaw. You awe.”
“Follow me, Red,” chuckled Finn. We walked the few remaining steps to Iris’s room, and Finn delicately transferred his baby girl into my arms. “Goodnight, bubs. Love you.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
Just before he slipped away, Finn leaned into my ear. His breath was warm, carried the scents of Christmas spices, and had every hair on my body standing to attention. “I can’t wait to have you naked in my bed.” I’m not going to lie, the thought of tossing Iris into her bed from there and running down the hall while shedding my clothes did pop up. But it was instantly dismissed. Almost instantly.
No tossing was involved as I tucked Iris into her white, mini four-poster bed. Pink sheets I wanted to steal for myself were pulled back. Her forty-five layers of clothing were removed and a Peppa Pig nightgown slipped over her cute little head.
“Would you sing me a song, Scawett?” she asked as she finally lay down.
“Sure, I will. But I must warn you. I’m not a good singer like your daddy. What do you want me to sing?”
“Have you heawd of Taylow Swift? She’s my favowite.”
“What? Iris, did we just become besties?” I laughed at my ownStepbrothersjoke, then realized—hoped—Iris had no idea what I was laughing at. “Yes, well, Taylor is my favorite too!” Iris giggled the cutest-ever giggle, jumped to her feet, and threw her arms around my neck. “I love you, Scawett, and I’m glad my daddy does too.”
Believing myself likely to drown in my own tears, I wiped my eyes, cheeks, and neck dry and got on with it. “What Taylor song is your favorite, sweetheart?”
“Nevew gwow up.”
