Page 13 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

And for a second, I see the old Trevor.MyTrevor. The man I was supposed to marry.

I know I betrayed him. He’s not wrong to feel that way. But I thought he could forgive me eventually. I thought we could get through it.

I was wrong. I get that now. I didn’t think I’d lose him forever, though.

I learned the hard way.

Isn’t that enough? Does he have to keep punishing me?

“Iris.” Just my name as a complete sentence. And my name on his lips hits me like it used to. A sweet caress of a whisper. A promise, a hope, a future.

Fuck.

Why does he still have to be so pretty? Perfect lips, tousled curls, chiseled features.

I’ve tried too hard to forget the way he made me feel in the good times.

And now here we are.

I lick my lips. “It’s just a week. We can do this for a week. For Rose at least, right?”

Trevor nods. “For Rose.”

I force myself to smile. “Okay. Good. We agree on that, at least.”

He nods again, says nothing more.

I decide to walk away, end the conversation here. The last time a conversation ended between us, it wasn’t my decision.

Trevor, though, tries to get in one last word. “You look good.”

I don’t turn around. “So do you.”

Then I leave.

3

TREVOR

I shouldn’t have savedshopping for the last minute, but here I am, in a jampacked mall, looking desperately for the perfect Christmas gift for my goddaughter.

It has to be perfect, something everyone will talk about for the rest of time. Something that will take the attention off of Iris and me this Christmas and put it on how great of a family member I am.

I can’t explain this need to prove myself as worthy to the Hawthorn clan. No one has given me the pink slip, fired me from the family.

After dinner last night, though, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m dead weight. Just a single guy with nothing to contribute other than a storm cloud. I turned into the Grinch once the Christmas seasons started, but since Iris and I broke up, I’ve been a real Eeyore.

So, I’m focusing all this pent-up energy and anxiety into gift hunting.

I’ve already been to three stores and haven’t managed to find much of anything, save an adorable pair of tiny Mary Janes and a fluffy dress I couldn’t pass up. But clothes aren’t really a present for kids, much less a baby. I needtoys. Good ones. And not ones that make noise, that’s a rule from Rowan and Oliver.

As I stroll through the aisles of Toys a Million, I find my eyes glazing over as I examine doll after doll, box after box. My eyes are starting to hurt from the fluorescent lighting, and I’m getting annoyed by the same Top 40 songs in every store.

I’m not cut out for this work.

Iris and I always shopped for Rose’s gifts together. She was always able to sniff out the perfect pièce de resistance, and I’d find some bits and bobs to push the gift over the edge. We made a good team that way.

In lots of ways.

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