Page 52 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

Is that fondness in the corners of her eyes?

I open my mouth, ready to ask if I can get her for a moment alone. Of course, that’s the exact moment Ash walks into the living room and announces Christmas brunch is ready.

I shoot to my feet. “Great! I’m starving.”

I’m first into the dining room, first to fill my plate, first to stuff my face, and determined to be the last to finish. If I’m preoccupied with my food, then I don’t have an opportunity to wonder if I should ask Iris for a moment alone.

Plus, I have to be even more preoccupied with my food than usual because Iris has been sat across from me instead of at a complete diagonal.

Iris giggles. “You’re housing that French toast, Trev.”

I finish up my bite and eye her across the table.

Everything around us is chaos, but between us everything is still.

“It’s Christmas, calories don’t count.”

Iris smiles. “Even after you gorged yourself last night?”

I have to veil my shock at her referencing our night together. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Iris sips her Christmas mimosa, a glint in her eye as she stares me down.

My chest puffs with pride.

I can do this. She’s flirting with me. She’s open. Not just her legs but her mind. Maybe her heart too.

Maybe?

God, I don’t want to screw this up. I need this gift to work. It’s going to be my boon.

Pulling her away from brunch isn’t possible and after brunch, everyone splays out for playtime, naps, and sports on television.

Iris sets up the dollhouse with Rose while Rowan takes a nap, and Oliver and I watch the game with the other guys.

But I watch her. The whole time I’m pretending to watch football, I keep my eyes on her.

My beautiful Iris.

How is it possible that a week ago I was still harboring all this hate for her when all it took was a handful of days to remind me what I threw away?

It’s my fault. I wasn’t strong enough. Wasn’tsafeenough.

If I had been either, we’d still be together. Hell, we’d be married. I could have followed her to Seattle, found a fund there to work for. We could come back to Chicago for holidays. We’d still have a family in the Hawthorns, still have best friends in Oliver and Rowan, Rose would still be our godchild.

Iris is my home. Not Chicago, not the Hawthorns.

Iris.

How could I be so stupid?

Oliver leans over to me. “Go talk to her.”

“What? No, I’m watching the game, man.” I refocus my eyes on the television.

“Liar.”

I glare at Oliver.

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