Page 8 of Daddy Christmas

"Okay," I whispered to myself, clutching the paper tighter. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break through my ribs. I pressed the note to my chest for a moment, letting the words settle into my skin, their meaning sinking deeper.

I didn’t let myself overthink. If I did, I’d chicken out. Instead, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, my fingers shaking as I unlocked it. The screen lit up, too bright in the dim light of my bedroom. My thumb hovered over the keypad.

"God, Gemma, just do it," I muttered under my breath. I punched in the numbers before I could talk myself out of it, each one echoing in my head like a drumbeat. My thumb hesitated over the green call button.

A deep inhale. A shaky exhale. Then, I pressed it.

The line rang once, then twice. Each tone seemed to stretch forever, tension coiling in my stomach. What if he didn’t answer? What if this was some kind of joke? What if—

"Hello?"

His voice. Warm. Deep. Like velvet wrapping around me.

"Hi," I managed, my breath catching halfway. "It’s . . . it’s Gemma."

A pause. Then, his chuckle, low and rich. "I’ve been hoping you’d call."

That single sentence sent a shiver through me, every nerve in my body sparking to life. God, how did he do that?

"I, um . . ." My mouth went dry. Words suddenly felt slippery, impossible to hold onto. "I found your note."

"Did you now?" He sounded amused, teasing almost. I could picture the way his lips would curve into a smile, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. "And what did you think of it?"

What did I think? That he was insane? That I was insane for dialing the number? That I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me feel this… alive?

"I think . . ." I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. "I’d love to see you too."

"Good answer," he said, the approval in his tone unmistakable. It sent a thrill racing down my spine.

"Is this where you tell me the ‘good place’ for a meal?" I asked, leaning against the wall, one hand gripping the edge of my robe.

"Patience, little one," he said, and something about the way he said it—low, deliberate—made my knees go weak. "Let me plan something special for you."

"Special, huh?" I tried to sound casual, but my voice came out softer than I meant it to.

"Only the best," he replied, and the sincerity in his voice stole the breath from my lungs.

"Okay," I whispered, barely able to get the word out.

"Tomorrow evening," he said. "I’ll text you the details."

"Tomorrow," I echoed, my pulse kicking up another notch.

"Looking forward to it, Gemma," he murmured. There was a pause, a beat of silence that felt heavy, intimate. "Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight," I said, my voice trembling just slightly.

The line clicked off, but the sound of his voice lingered, curling around me like a warm blanket. I set the phone down carefully, staring at it as if it might vanish or burst into flames.

"Tomorrow," I repeated quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Chapter 3

Afew days later,I stood outside a restaurant I’d never even seen before. Noel’s Haven. A Christmas-themed place, according to Google. Weirdly, though, it didn’t have a single review online. Maybe it was new.

It was a bitterly cold day. This morning had seen the first snow of the year. My breath puffed in little clouds as I stared at the building.

The place was smaller than I expected—charming but almost too subtle, like it wanted to stay a secret. Tiny lights blinked along the edges of the roof, and a wreath with red berries hung on the door. I pressed my free hand to my stomach, trying to calm the nerves churning there.

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