Page 24 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
Friends? Just like that, huh? Then again, it really was that easy when you were a kid. Why couldn’t it be that way for us adults, too?
“Absolutely. As long as their dad is okay with sticking around for a bit longer.”
“Oh, I planned on being here for at least another hour or two,” Remy said.
The kids cheered, and I smiled so hard that my cheeks ached. This was exactly the kind of thing that I’d always wanted for my son. After everything he’d been through, it really felt like a Christmas miracle that he was getting to experience it. It didn’t matter that my only presents under the tree would be handmade crafts from my son—I was already the richest woman in the world as far as I was concerned.
“All right, big man, let’s go back to the bleachers and I’ll help you lace up your skates, then you can spend twenty minutes on the ice before you need to come back, rehydrate, and rest for five minutes.” I was being a bit more lax with how long I was willing to let him be off on his own, because he wasn’t really on his own.Although I had just met them, I could tell that Eva and Addy had good heads on their shoulders.
There was a bit of a shuffle as Remy threw our trash away, and I got myself and Max bundled back up. Thankfully, we made it back out to the bleachers before any of our children spontaneously combusted from impatience, which almost felt like a feat in and of itself. Max fastened his own laces while I watched, and I only had to correct him once and then tighten them at the end. It was insane how quickly he picked up on things. My own little Sherlock Holmes.
“Come on! Let’s go!” Max said.
The three hurried off, moving impressively fast for having such short legs, leaving Remy and me alone. We took a seat, and I put my skates on in case there was another snafu on the ice. I didn’t think there would be, but if there was one thing I had learned in life, it was better to be prepared than to be caught unawares.
“So… cancer.”
“I see where your daughters inherited their masterful tact from,” I teased. I had forgotten what it felt like to have an adult conversation that wasn’t about bills or medical care—or editing, of course.
“Ha! Yeah, I suppose I deserve that one. But still, I trauma-dumped on you with the whole being-a-widower thing. It’s tit for tat if you want to spill on your own end.”
“I don’t know, I think our kids did enough of that for both of us.”
Another chuckle. “Yeah, my girls can be pretty matter-of-fact, but please believe me that they don’t usually mention their dead mom at the drop of a hat like that. I think there’s something about your son that made them feel comfortable enough to open up.”
Man, I was so predictable. One compliment aimed at my son, and my stomach swooped in response. Usually, when people looked at Max, especially when he was at his worst, they only saw a sick kid. But Remy had known him for all of maybe an hour and was already pointing out parts of Max’s personality that I was fiercely proud of.
“It’s crazy how he’s like that,” I agreed, my heart swelling. “He has every excuse in the world to be a little brat, but he’s really not. Sure, he has his bad days, and he throws his temper tantrums on the rare occasion, but he’s a good kid down to his core.” I paused, not wanting to gush too much. I loved my son and truly cherished every single moment I was given with him, but I also knew it was important not to put him up on a pedestal. Like with so many things in life, moderation was key.
“You know, your girls are pretty amazing, too. Not just because they know about cancer, but because they accepted it so easily. They treated it with the same significance as learning his name. Something important to know, but not to lament about or call him weird, or anything like that. I know what you’ve all gone through has got to be difficult, but I want you to know, you’re raising them right.”
I meant what I said, and I’d anticipated him blushing slightly or even thanking me, but what I hadn’t expected was his Adam’s apple to bob as he swallowed hard. I definitely hadn’t expected his eyes to turn glassy.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to go too far. It’s just that your girls really are lovely.”
“No, no, it’s okay. It’s just… You know how sometimes they talk about an insult or negative thing cutting you to the core?”
“Yeah, of course I do.” It was a pretty common turn of phrase in many romance novels that were more clichés and idioms than actual dialogue and plot.
“Well, sometimes there are compliments like that. Someone says something just right, and it cuts through all the bad, all the insecurities, all the shame, and hits you right in the heart.” He gave me such a genuine grin that my heart actually skipped a beat.
Holy shit!
The guy was handsome—there was no doubt about that—but I saw handsome men around all the time. However, there was something so spectacularly unique and open about his smile and the outpouring of emotion from his gaze, that I was quite captivated by him. It was like one of those moments from books I had to read for work, except it was real life and neither of us were wolf shifters.
Because those didn’t exist.
“I’ve never thought of it like that,” I said softly, tearing my eyes away from his because his gaze was so damn intense. At the same time, I wanted to fall right back into it. Just stare into those dark green eyes of his, framed by those ridiculous lashes, and absorb every emotion he felt.
Which wasmonumentallystupid. First of all, I was Max’s mom above all else. Secondly, guys likehimdidn’t go for plus-sized, single moms with sick—or even formerly sick—kids. Letting any sort of crush build was an exercise in foolishness. I knew better. “But I know what you mean. Sometimes someone says the right words at the right time, and you just feel so seen.”
“To be seen is to be loved.”
“Pardon?”
“Just something that Zara, my wife, used to say. To be seen is to be loved.”
My cheeks were beginning to hurt from how much I was smiling, and yet that didn’t stop me. “I like that. I like that a lot. Mind if I borrow it?”
