Page 99 of Christmas in Paradise

“To be honest, Ma’am, I’m not sure yet. We haven’t gotten that far, but she and Charly both know I love them.” I muster as much confidence as I can, hoping the dim light covers the flush I feel in my cheeks.

Glen smiles at my answer, but Faith raises an eyebrow. “Love is one thing, but you can’t live on love. Love won’t pay for medical bills or therapy or all the other things my granddaughter needs.”

“I have a good job.” I scramble to make up ground I didn’t even realize I’d lost until it was too late.

“You have a jobhere.” Faith points a red-painted nail at the floor of the Old Barn. “Charly’s doctors are in Wichita. Hope’s family and all her support is in Wichita.” Mrs. Barton—I don’t think we’re on a first-name basis anymore—sits back and crosses her hands in her lap.

“We have doctors here,” I say, but even I hear the lack of confidence in my voice.

Mrs. Barton shakes her head. “You don’t have specialists in Paradise. Charly needs special care.”

“We have those in Florence,” I mumble, feeling stupid.

Because why didn’t I think of all these things before? That’s what a real parent would do: think of all the things a kid needs and how to get them.

But not me.

I’ve only been thinking about the next fun thing Charly and I can do together. Find the hidden gnomes; visit Santa; look at all the Christmas lights; dance the Seven Jumps dance together; play a shepherd and sheep in the nativity: all the fun things going on during Yulefest.

I wasn’t thinking beyond that to what it will mean for Hope and Charly to stay in Paradise. And I never considered that I might have to leave to be with them.

“Florence is an hour away, at least.” Mrs. Barton continues. “What if there’s an emergency, or a snowstorm and you can’t get through the canyon, or both of you have to work when Charly’s got an appointment? Who’s going to take her?”

My mind races with every new possibility she piles on, and my eyes dart to Glen. All he has to offer is another shrug, which is not helpful. If he doesn’t know the answers to Mrs. Barton’s questions, who does?

Not me. There are so many possibilities for failure, and I can’t believe I didn’t think of any of them.

Mrs. Barton’s mouth sharpens to a fine, razor-thin line before she lobs her last grenade. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, and it’s Hope and Charly who will suffer for it.”

She’s right, and I can’t believe I ever thought I knew what I was doing.

That’s when I feel Hope’s hand on my back.

“Mom, are you interrogating my boyfriend?” She leans into my side, and I find the strength to slip my arm around her waist.

I need something to hold onto to keep from drowning.

“Just asking a few questions about your plans.” She sends Hope an adoring smile.

I look to Hope for help, but she only smiles back at her mom, her face brighter than the candles burning on the table.

“I don’t know, but I just caught Evie’s bouquet.” She pulls the flowers from behind her back, then winks at me.

A few minutes ago, I might have dropped to one knee right now then raced with her back to the chapel for our own ceremony while the bouquet was still fresh. But that was before Mrs. Barton pointed out all the ways I’m not prepared to be a dad. Or reminded me that Hope doesn’t have a job here and will need to go back to Wichita once all the Yulefest festivities are over.

I’ve made a point of not thinking too much about that. Just like I’ve made a point of not thinking about all the hard parts that would come with being Charly’s dad.

When I don’t say anything to her, Hope tips her head and studies my face. Then she lays the bouquet on the table and takes my hand.

“Can you keep an eye on Charly for a minute, Mom?” She doesn’t wait for Mrs. Barton to answer before pulling me toward the dance floor.

The song isn’t slow, but Hope wraps my hands around her waist then slides hers behind my neck. I don’t resist, but I also don’t meet her gaze. I let my eyes drift to the people dancing around us.

“Seb.” She grabs my face and forces me to look at her. “What’s scaring you?”

Her eyes scan my face. They’re as dark blue as a winter sky above a snow-capped mountain. But there’s no worry there.

A worried laugh escapes my throat. “So many things.” I let my eyes drift to hers and hold them. “But mostly that I don’t know what happens next. What if you don’t get to stay here? What if you do? What if we can’t find doctors for Charly? What if you don’t have anyone to help you the way your mom does? What if Charly hates me?”

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