Page 84 of Christmas in Paradise

“Very.” I swallow back the fear trying to force its way up my chest.

This is just a quick trip, but it’s a quick trip with the three of us. That hasn’t happened before, and it may not happen again. I don’t know what the future holds, but right now Seb wants to be with Charly and me. And I want to do something I rarely let myself do.

Enjoy the moment.

I slide a few inches closer to Seb, so he doesn’t have to reach quite as far, and rest our hands in my lap. “What’s Christmas in Paradise like?”

He takes a deep breath, then smiles. “I’ve never spent Christmas anywhere else, so I don’t have anything to compare it to, but it’s magical.”

“Magical?”

“Yeah,” he glances at me and nods. “I mean, not as magical as it will be this year with Yulefest, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“But Paradise has always had some kind of Christmas Festival with all the folk dancing, and the town square lighting ceremony.” Seb keeps his eyes glued to the road as he talks, navigating the curving road and the increasing snow with ease. “When we were little, we’d go to Santa’s workshop set up in the town square. Nick Johnson was Santa back then too.”

“What other traditions did your family have?” I like picturing him as a little boy. I can see him being excited about things like visiting Santa and unwrapping presents on Christmas morning.

“Midnight mass. Mom always made us go. And a big Christmas dinner with all the Sparks and Thomsens.” His face grows more animated as he talks. “We’d spend Christmas Eve together too, singing around the tree, playing games, eating Heidi’s ebelskiver and Mom’s panettone.”

“What’s panettone?” I ask.

“Italian Christmas cake.” He takes his hand off the wheel long enough to rub the corner of his jaw, right on the spot where I know he likes being kissed.

“Is it good?”

He looks at me, pauses, then shakes his head. “Don’t tell my mom though.”

I drag my fingers across my lips and make a locking motion.

Seb laughs and focuses on the road again. “And sledding. We’d always go sledding on Christmas day. I don’t remember ever having a Christmas without snow. The one Christmas I really remember with my dad we had great snow. I don’t know how many times I made him take me down the hill.”

His voice drifts away, and his eyes grow soft with the memory.

I squeeze his hand tighter. “Do you miss him?”

He presses his lips together, and his chest rises. “He was gone so much that I think I miss the idea of him. I miss that I didn’t have him to show me how to be a man. I mean, I’ve had Grandpa Sparks, but his idea of manhood never really fit me. Not that I don’t love him. We’re just different.”

I nod. I’ve only had one interaction with his grandpa, but I understand what he’s saying. “Your dad wasn’t like him?”

Seb thinks for a few seconds before answering. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember him so much as I remember what I felt around him.”

“What was that?”

“Loved.” He nods like saying it out loud has brought him the realization. “I felt good.”

I wait for him to say more, because there’s a question forming in the back of my mind that I’m dying to ask, but I’m not sure he’s ready to answer. But as minutes pass, and he doesn’t say anything, I can’t hold it in anymore.

“I’m going to ask you a big question, but you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want,” I say in one breath.

His head whips to me, then back to the road, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Okay. Thanks for the warning.”

“Do you think losing your dad that young is part of the reason you don’t want kids—or at least, don’t want them yet? Maybe ever?” My face grows hotter and hotter the more I try to make the question less intrusive.

Seb shakes his head. “It’s not part of the reason. It’s all of the reason.”

He looks at me and shrugs.

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