Page 103 of Almost Ours
It made things difficult, when it came to Ryan sneaking in, but we’d managed to make it work–stolen moments in the hallway, kisses pressed against doorframes, whispered goodnights in the dark. As much as I missed having him in my bed, I couldn’t bring myself to be frustrated. Connor needed me right now, and Ryan understood that.
I hadn’t told him the details–hadn’t told him about the nightmares or the real reason Connor had been curling into my side every night. I wasn’t ready for that conversation yet, wasn’t ready to let Ryan see that part of my past, the part I still kept locked away.
He never questioned it. Never pushed. He just accepted it, the same way he accepted everything else about me, and that only made it harder to ignore how much I wanted to let him all the way in.
Now, as I watch Connor sleep, his face is peaceful–something that feels almost foreign. The worry lines that usually shadow his features are absent, and for once, he looks like a little boy without the weight of fear pressing down on him. I smile softly, running my fingers through his hair as he murmurs in his sleep, his hand gripping the blankets.
When he finally stirs, blinking sleepily, he looks up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “Did Santa come?”
The excitement in his voice makes my heart twist. I kiss the top of his head. “Let’s go find out.”
He shoots out of bed, already bouncing on the balls of his feet, his energy contagious. He races down the hall, his feet pounding against the wooden steps, and despite my nerves, I laugh.
As he rounds the corner into the living room, he freezes for a split second. His eyes go wide as he takes in the sight–the stockings hanging, the twinkling lights, the small pile of presents beneath the tree. Then his face lights up, and with a delighted squeal, he throws himself forward, the weight of his worries momentarily forgotten.
“Santa came!” Connor exclaims, his voice bursting with pure joy. “Look, Mom! All my presents!”
My heart swells, and I kneel beside him, pulling him into a tight hug. “It looks like he did. What do you want to open first?”
He’s already bouncing, too eager to contain himself. “Can I start with the big one?”
I smile, brushing a piece of hair out of my face. “You start wherever you like, sweetheart. I’m just going to make myself a cup of coffee, and then I’ll be right back.”
I leave him to the tree, the sound of crinkling paper and his excited gasps filling the air behind me as I head into the kitchen. The kettle clicks on, and I lean against the counter, staring out the window. I wonder what Ryan’s doing this morning. Is he with Shane? Should I text him?
The thought makes my stomach flip, and I push it away before I can spiral. Instead, I wrap my hands around my coffee mug, finding comfort in its warmth. But even that doesn’t settle the worry gnawing at me. I just want Connor to be happy today. To feel loved and appreciated.
Taking a deep breath, I walk back into the living room, where Connor is already knee-deep in wrapping paper, his face lighting up as he tears through one gift after another.
“It’s the race car I wanted!” he announces proudly, holding up a toy car. “Look, Mom! It’s just like the one I saw on TV!”
“Wow, buddy, that’s awesome!” I kneel beside him, my chest full of warmth as he shows off each gift with the kind of unfiltered joy only a child can have.
He keeps going, narrating each present as if I didn’t already know what he was unwrapping–but I love it. I love the sound of his voice, the way his happiness fills the entire room. Even when he opens the book he’s been asking for, he practically jumps up and down, hugging it to his chest.
“This is the best Christmas ever!” he declares, his whole body buzzing with excitement.
A lump forms in my throat. This is what I wanted for him. This is what I want for him every year. It doesn’t matter that Reid is absent–it’s us. It’s me and Connor. And this Christmas, it’s more than I could’ve hoped for.
Connor’s excitement is contagious as he grabs a small box and hands it to me, his grin wide and full of pride. “Merry Christmas, Mom!”
I blinked, surprised. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
His cheeks flush, and he nudges the gift closer. “I wanted to. Coach Ryan helped me.”
That catches my attention. My heart flutters as I carefully unwrap the gift. Inside is a simple coffee mug, and when I turn it in my hands, my breath catches. One side has a picture of Connor and me from the tobogganing hill, laughing and tangled in the snow. On the other side, bold letters read:“Best Mom Ever!”
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes. I look at Connor, who is practically bouncing with anticipation. “Do you like it?” he asks, his voice hopeful.
I reach out and hug him tightly, my voice thick with emotion. “I love it, baby. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
I don’t miss the way my chest feels tight when I glance at the mug again. Ryan helped him pick this out. Ryan, who has been quietly making space in my life, in my heart, without ever demanding it. Ryan, who understands me in ways I never expected, who never pressures me, who never pushes.
I like him. God, I like him so much. But I’m not ready to admit that out loud–not even to Nina, and definitely not to Ryan. Things have been going so well between us, and I don’t want to risk changing that. I don’t even know if he feels the same way, and I’m not about to put myself in a position to find out. Not yet.
If anything, the stolen moments between us has only made things more intense, more electric, as if we both knew we were waiting for something neither of us was quite ready to name.
My phone buzzed on the couch beside me. I picked it up and saw a message from Nina.
