Page 46 of A Very Daddy Christmas

“There’s something else going on with that building and its ownership,” I say. “The sheriff isn’t doing much, and I doubt he’s going to give us the answers we need. It’s already been established that we can’t rely on him.”

“We might as well do the digging ourselves,” Riggs grumbles.

The entire situation is frustrating and infuriating. I already feel lonely after Cora communicated her decision earlier. If I’m being honest with myself, I did sort of see it coming. Hints she dropped along the way. Abrupt shifts in her mood, changes in her behavior. When she has an interaction with Orson St. James, no matter how small, Cora tends to pull away. To protect herself.

“I’ll start putting word out on the street,” Waylan says.

“The trouble with St. James is that he’s well established in the city,” Riggs points out. “A lot of people admire him, and as much as I hate to admit it, I can’t exactly blame them. He’s done plenty of good for the community. He’s a fatherly figure in church. I mean, even I could understand his appeal if I didn’t see through the bullshit.”

I nod in agreement. “It’s true, but he’s not invincible, and clearly, he’s not all powerful, either.”

“We have more money than he does,” Waylan chuckles dryly.

“Technically, that is correct. But we’ve done more than our part, financially speaking. All we can do going forward is make sure the escrow goes through and Cora and her sister get thatbuilding,” I say.

“Which is fine and dandy with me. I’m all for it,” Riggs replies. “What are we going to do about Cora, though? What we have with her, it’s rare, man. We can’t lose her. I don’t want to lose her.”

“Neither do I.”

Waylan clears his throat, drawing our attention. “We might not have a say in that, fellas. The best we can do is respect her decision. Besides, she is right about one thing—it’s risky. For us, and especially for Dario. If anybody finds out… I can’t let the kid slip into the foster system. I just can’t.”

It’s a tough pill to swallow, but I do understand where he’s coming from. There are tremendous risks involved. Terrible costs if someone learns the truth about us. If we maintain a professional relationship, it’s safer for everyone involved, especially in a place like Madison where so many of the traditional family values are still fiercely upheld. And with a voice such as Orson’s, we all know how quickly that fire would spread, the damage it would do.

Deep down, I reckon I’m stuck somewhere between Riggs and Waylan on this one. “We’re in love with her,” I say after a long and heavy silence. “There’s no point in denying that anymore, is there?”

“None whatsoever,” Riggs replies.

“But the odds are stacked against us,” Waylan says.

“We’re not powerless, though,” I conclude.

Cora has made her decision, but it doesn’t mean it’s ironclad. Nor does it mean the situation can’t change. We simply needbetter and safer parameters for Cora to come back to us. The only way to do that is to intervene in a manner that doesn’t make us come across as her wannabe saviors.

I’m worried that if we allow St. James and Hamilton to run loose for much longer, they’ll keep badgering the Levine sisters until they find a way to get them to leave the building.

This is where our former Marine friends come in handy.

The streets are their kingdom. And it’s in those streets we’ll find the dirtiest of secrets on some of the city’s most powerful men. In the meantime, we need to adjust to this new reality. I need to get used to an empty bed again, to being around Cora without being able to hold her, without losing myself in her arms.

It’s going to be a bleak Christmas if we don’t fix this.

And an even bleaker life afterward.

14

Cora

It’s been a week since I broke it off with the guys.

A week since my bed has been lonely and cold.

A week’s worth of crossing paths, our interactions friendly and strictly professional. Every moment I spend in their presence feels tense because there are plenty of unspoken words left between us.

Christmas is inching closer with each passing day. The first snow has fallen, and Madison looks beautiful covered in white and riddled with twinkling, colorful lights everywhere. The holiday spirit is settling in, yet unlike the previous years, I’m not feeling it as much as I would’ve liked. Something is missing. Or, better said, someone.

I get out of the car and make my way across the street to the bakery. It looks so pretty from the outside. Carl helped us with the exterior decorations—red and gold garland hung above the windows which are adorned with gingerbread men and candy cane sticker motifs. The exterior potted shrubs flank the front entrance, baubles and ribbons decorating them, and there’s astring of red and green lights glimmering along the door frame. It’s festive but not cluttered.

“I like it,” I tell myself.

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