Page 68 of The Santa Rules
We step inside the market, and Avery holds the door for us. “I want a piggyback ride too!”
“Miss Carlisle broke her shoe,” Hardy explains as I climb down his back.
“It’s okay, I can stand in here if she wants a turn.”
Avery squeals as Hardy leans down and grabs her, placing her on his shoulders.
“Are you ready?” I ask Avery.
“Yup!”
“What should we sing?” I ask, but before anyone can answer, Hardy winks at me.
“Silent Night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.” His voice is soft yet powerful, his tone surprisingly velvety.
I think my ovaries just melted. Just when I think this man couldn’t get any hotter, he has to have a voice like that. And not only does he sound great, but the fact that this grumpy man, who isn’t a fan of crowds, is willing to do this for his daughter? I couldn’t swoon harder. If I’m not careful, he’s going to notice the little cartoon heart bubbles coming out of my eyes.
“Sleep in heavenly peace,” Avery chimes in with her sweet little voice.
“Sleep in heavenly peace,” I sing with them.
A few shoppers stop and listen as we sing several other songs, and a handful of people sing along with us. We stop at two other stores on Main Street, and each time, Hardy carries me outside and lets Avery sit on his shoulders while we sing.
And for the first time in a long time, my heart feels full. Being a mom has always fulfilled me, and I wish Isaac were with us tonight, but when I’m with these two people, I get the same feeling I do when I’m with my son. It feels soothing, like a warm mug of hot chocolate, familiar like coming home after a long trip, and it feels like love, the kind you feel on Christmas morning when you watch your kid open presents and see pure joy on their face, knowing that you were a part of that.
“Can we make cookies now?” Avery asks as we load her up in the car.
“Actually, we are making cookies this Sunday at Principal Delilah’s house,” I say.
“Can we come? Please?” Avery begs as Hardy shoots me an apologetic look.
“You can absolutely come.” The thought of sharing this tradition with them warms my heart.
I just hope I don’t scare Hardy off once he sees what kind of cookies we make.
CHAPTER 22
BELLA
“Are you coming tonight?” Lucy yells across the gym.
Hardy’s head pops out from behind a piece of scenery, and he looks at me in confusion. “Do you have plans tonight?” He almost sounds hurt.
“I thought we were painting tonight,” Avery says, running over.
Lucy walks over, checking out the progress we’re making as Isaac stands on top of a ladder, earbuds in as he paints. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had plans. It looks great,” she says, pointing to the flats that are nearly finished.
“We only have a little bit more to do. Maybe another hour or two of work, depending on how the little one holds out,” I say, setting my paintbrush down.
“So, you’re not coming? It’s okay, I can tell the girls. I mean, this will be the first time in seven years you haven’t made it to the ugly sweater party, but I’m sure they’ll be cool with it even if they were hoping to see Hardy too.”
“Shoot, that totally slipped my mind. But way to lay on the guilt, Lucy.”
“We got this, if you want to go,” Hardy says reluctantly.
“Can I go?” Avery begs.
“Actually, it’s kind of a grown-up-only party,” I explain.
