Page 31 of Her Christmas Fix
“That’s not much of a plan.”
“It’s the best I’ve got.”
She leans against my shoulder. “Good enough for me.”
With Monika on one side and my found family on the other, I realize this is what I’ve been looking for my whole life.
Not just someone to love, but someone who makes every ordinary moment feel like Christmas morning.
15
MONIKA
“That’s notin the Monopoly playbook.” Riva throws her hands up in mock outrage, her patented teenage hair toss accentuating her point. “You can’t make up rules, Griffin.”
“I’m not making up anything.” He adjusts his position on the living room floor, stretching out his long legs. “I’minnovating.”
“You’re cheating,” my daughter counters, but she’s grinning as she says it.
I watch them from my spot on the couch, my heart so full it might burst. I touch the silver rose charm Griffin gave me for Christmas as I reach for my wine glass with my other hand. I haven’t taken the necklace off since he gave it to me on Christmas Day.
“Mom, tell him he can’t charge double rent because his hotel is ‘architecturally significant.’“
“Griffin.” I try to sound stern but fail spectacularly. “Stop corrupting my child with your creative interpretations of board game rules.”
He flashes that devastating smile that makes my stomach flip. “I’m teaching her to think outside the box.”
“You’re teaching her to be a con artist,” I say, but I’m laughing.
“Fine.” He moves his little silver dog token and hands Riva a stack of colorful bills. “Traditional rent it is. Though I maintain my brownstone renovation added significant value.”
Riva counts her money with exaggerated care. “You keep telling yourself that.”
The easy banter between them is everything I hoped for but was afraid to count on. When Riva arrived the day after Christmas, I’d been a bundle of nerves. What if she didn’t like Griffin? What if he felt weird around a teenager? What if she resented him for being part of my life?
Instead, they’d bonded over breakfast at the Salty Dog Diner when Griffin let her order the “Edgar Special”—a massive cinnamon roll named in honor of the town’s infamous seagull. She’d peppered him with questions about Wild Rose Point, and he’d patiently answered each one like she was the center of his world.
By day two, they were planning the upstairs renovation together. Riva wants a window seat overlooking the ocean and shelves for her crystal collection. Griffin listened, made suggestions, and promised to build her the best window seat on the Oregon coast.
Yesterday, he’d taken us hiking through a nearby forest preserve, pointing out native plants and explaining the ecosystem while Riva took approximately four hundred photos. When she’d slipped on a wet rock crossing a stream, he’d caught her before I could even gasp, steadying her with the same capable hands that fixed my grandmother’s dream house.
The same hands that hold me at night when he thinks I’m asleep, like he still can’t quite believe I’m really his.
“Your turn, Mom.” Riva nudges my foot with hers.
I roll the dice and move my token—the little top hat, because of course—and land on Griffin’s property. “How much do I owe you?”
“For you? Free pass.” He winks.
“That’sdefinitelynot in the rules,” Riva protests.
“Fine.” I count out the rent and hand it over, electricity shooting up my arm when our fingers brush. Will I ever get over that? I sort of hope not. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” But he’s looking at me, not the money.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, another notification I choose to ignore. The publicity from Daniel’s arrest has been intense. Thanks to a slow news cycle, I’ve been the lead story on every tabloid site, with speculation running wild about my “secret hideaway” and “mystery man.”
I released a statement through my publicist:I’m taking time to heal and focus on what matters most—my family, work, and privacy. I ask that you respect this boundary.
