Page 55 of A Second Chance Christmas Kiss

“Charles.” I moved to his side, finding it so natural to pick up his hand.

“Sorry. Maybe it’s pathetic to say this, but everyone was a substitute for you. For the life we’d always talked about sharing.” He rapidly blinked. “The children we’d talked about having.”

Touched, I slipped in front of him and pulled him into me. “I feel it too.” And I did. “Peter only wanted one child. He got a vasectomy right after I had Will. He didn’t even tell me.”

“What?” Charles jerked back and stared into my eyes. “That’s horrible.”

I nodded. “It was. I shouldn’t complain, because I have Will, but … I wanted more. I wanted lots more.”

He gave me a sad smile. “The four we always talked about.”

I sputtered out a laugh. “That’s exactly what we’d always talked about.”

“It’s what my parents had.”

For a long time, we stared at each other. Would I have another with Charles if the opportunity presented itself? I immediately pushed that thought away.

“What?” he asked softly.

“Nothing.” I wouldn’t say that. I couldn’t think that. Will was almost twenty. I would be thirty-nine this year.

Charles pulled me into another hug. I let him, relishing his touch.

“Grandmother and Hazel are waiting for us by the Christmas tree,” he told me.

Suddenly, I felt highly unprepared. “Oh no. I don’t have anything for them and …”

Charles waved a dismissive hand. “I do. You can give them gifts with me.” He began pulling me down the hall. I was wearing a modest nightgown with Christmas snowflakes on it. I would’veprotested that I needed to make myself look better, but I was still in a daze.

Charles paused in front of a room with a tightly shut door. A mischievous look washed over his face.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you want to see our freaky room?”

His grandmother walked toward us from another room. Her hair was expertly groomed, her makeup done. She gave Charles the same mischievous smile. “You’re going to go in my freaky doll room without me?”

Charles laughed.

His grandmother held her arms open to me. “How are you, child?”

It was slightly funny being called a child. I went into her arms. “I’m okay.”

She pulled back and searched my face. “We will talk later. But always know that you are welcome here. I’m so proud of you for all the things you’ve been through.”

I wasn’t sure what Charles had told her, but they had always been close. Oftentimes, when we’d been dating, we would come back to the house with the beach crew, and we would end up hanging out with her. His grandfather usually wasn’t around, but his grandmother would teach us things. She would read books with us, and we would play chess with her. She had always been a sweetheart.

Gently, she placed a hand on my arm. “I’ve missed you.” Then the mischievous look was back. “Go ahead and show her my freaky dolls.”

Charles opened the door and flipped a light switch. All four walls were lined with columns of shelves, each holding dozens of dolls.

I laughed. “Oh my goodness.” I wandered into the room and started pointing to different dolls and talking about them. “This is Mistletoe from our Christmas collection.”

“Yes, I have most of the Christmas collection, I think,” his grandmother said.

I pointed to another doll with a plaid skirt and brown hair. “This is Marianne from our school collection.” I named several others, then laughed. “My mother would absolutely love this room.”

Oh, how I missed her.

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