Page 43 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
"Can we play Christmas music?" Angie asks, breaking the moment.
"Absolutely." I connect my phone to Hudson's speaker system, and soon the house fills with cheerful holiday tunes.
The girls sing along as we continue decorating, Lucy dancing around the living room, Angie carefully arranging ornaments in color patterns, and Silvie even joining in occasionally with a small smile. It feels easy, natural.Like family.
The thought stops me mid-hang. Is that what we're becoming? A family?
Before I can dwell on it, the front door opens, and Hudson steps in, his tall frame filling the doorway. His eyes take in the scene—his daughters decorating the tree, Christmas music playing, me standing in the middle of it all—and something in his expression softens.
"Daddy!" Lucy races to him, wrapping herself around his legs. "Look at our tree!"
He lifts her up effortlessly, kissing her cheek. "I see it, baby girl. It's beautiful."
"Violet let us do it all by ourselves," she announces proudly.
His eyes find mine across the room. "Did she now?"
"We saved the star for you, Dad," Silvie says, holding up the gold tree topper.
Hudson sets Lucy down, surprise evident on his face. "You did?"
Silvie nods. "It's tradition, right? You used to always put the star on."
A shadow of emotion crosses his features. "That's right, Sil."
"Well, come on then," she urges, something almost playful in her tone. "The tree's not done without the star."
Hudson removes his coat and boots, then joins us by the tree. Silvie hands him the star, their hands touching briefly in the exchange. A small moment, but significant given her usual guardedness.
He reaches up, placing the star at the top of the tree, his tall frame making it an easy task. When he steps back, we all stand together, admiring our handiwork.
"What do you think?" I ask softly, standing beside him.
"It's perfect," he says, but he's looking at me, not the tree.
The timer in the kitchen beeps, breaking the moment. "That's dinner," I explain, stepping back. "I put lasagna in earlier."
"You cooked too?" Hudson sounds impressed.
"Nothing fancy. Just something warm for when you all got home."
Home.There's that word again, settling comfortably between us.
Dinner is a lively affair, the girls chattering about returning to school in a couple weeks, friends, and Christmas wishes. Hudson catches my eye across the table occasionally, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Each time, my heartdoes that ridiculous fluttering thing that I'm starting to accept as permanent whenever he's around.
After dinner, Hudson takes the girls upstairs for baths and bedtime while I clean up the kitchen and put away a load of laundry I did earlier. It's domestic and ordinary and somehow more fulfilling than anything I've done in years.
I'm folding Hudson's shirts in our bedroom when my phone rings. Dad's name flashes on the screen, and I hesitate before answering on speaker so I can continue folding.
"Hi, Dad."
"Finally decided to answer, huh?" His words are slightly slurred.Great. He's been drinking.
"I left you a note. And lasagna in the fridge."
"The house is a mess, Violet. The sink's leaking again, and there's no clean towels. I don't know what you expect me to do here by myself."
"Dad, I was just there. I did three loads of laundry, including towels. And I showed you how to fix the sink last time."
