Page 27 of Single Daddy Doctor Dreamy

"I know so," I reply, ruffling his hair. "You’ve got an eye for this."

It doesn’t take long for Joel to finish, and soon we’re hauling the tree back to the car, everyone pitching in where they can. The boys chatter nonstop on the drive home, already making plans for decorating it. Joel and I exchange amused glances, our shared smiles a quiet acknowledgment of the joy bubbling in the backseat.

The next morning, the car is quiet except for the hum of the engine as I drive my mom to the airport. The roads are clear, the sky that pale, crisp blue that only seems to come with winter. Mom sits beside me, her hands folded in her lap, a small, content smile tugging at her lips.

“Yesterday was perfect,” she says, breaking the silence. “That tree, those boys, the way the house smelled like pine andcinnamon... It felt like the kind of memory you hold onto for years.”

I glance at her, smiling softly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. It was nice having everyone together. Thanksgiving was, too.”

“It really was,” she agrees, her tone warm. “I loved seeing you so happy, Lucy. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that light in your eyes.”

Her words catch me off guard, but before I can brush them off with a joke, she turns in her seat to look at me fully. “And Joel… he seems like a good man. I saw the way he looks at you, Lucy. Like you’re more than just the nanny or his best friend’s sister. Like you Matter to him.”

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and I focus on the road ahead, my heart doing a strange little dance in my chest. “It’s complicated, Mom.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “Sweetheart, life is complicated. Love doesn’t come with a perfect set of instructions. But if Joel is what you want—if he makes you happy—don’t let fear hold you back. Don’t waste time waiting for the stars to align. Just… go for it.”

Her words hang in the air, and I don’t know what to say. I’ve spent so much time telling myself that Joel is off-limits, that there are too many reasons why it can’t work. But hearing her say it so plainly, so Matter-of-factly, makes me wonder if I’m the one making it more complicated than it needs to be.

We pull up to the airport drop-off lane, and I put the car in park, turning to face her. “Thanks, Mom. For everything. For coming, for the advice…”

She smiles, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “That’s what moms are for. Now go decorate that tree and think about what I said, okay?”

I nod, pulling her into a hug before she grabs her bag and heads inside. As I watch her disappear through the sliding doors,her words echo in my mind. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time to stop overthinking and just let myself be happy.

On Saturday, the house is transformed into a hub of holiday activity. Strings of lights and boxes of ornaments are scattered across the living room, and the smell of fir mingles with the faint hint of coffee from the kitchen. The boys dive into the decorations with unbridled enthusiasm, pulling out everything from glittery baubles to handmade ornaments from years past.

"Careful with that one," Joel warns as Finn picks up a particularly fragile ornament. "It was your mom’s favorite."

Finn nods solemnly, cradling it like a treasure as he places it on the tree. Miles, meanwhile, is busy directing the placement of lights, his cast not slowing him down in the slightest. Their laughter and banter adding to the festive chaos.

And then there’s Joel and me. We move around each other seamlessly, handing off ornaments and adjusting lights, our interactions punctuated by easy smiles and soft laughter. It feels… good. Right.

"It’s looking pretty great," Joel says as we step back to admire our handiwork. The tree glows warmly, a kaleidoscope of colors and memories. "What do you think?"

"I think it’s perfect," I say, my voice soft. And for a moment, I’m not just talking about the tree.

Several days later, the tree stands as the centerpiece of the living room, its lights casting a cozy glow over the space. Outside, theworld is quiet, the first hints of snow dusting the ground. Inside, it’s warm and alive with laughter.

We’ve all settled in for the evening, the boys sprawled on the rug playing a board game while Joel and I sit on the couch, mugs of hot cocoa in hand.

"I hope you know I’m in love with your kids," I say, nodding toward Miles and Finn.

"They are pretty amazing, aren’t they," Joel agrees, his voice filled with quiet pride.

Finn’s laughter rings out as Miles groans dramatically, apparently losing a key property in their Monopoly game. The sight of them sprawled on the floor, completely absorbed in their own world, fills me with a warmth I didn’t realize I’d been missing. They’re so different yet perfectly balanced. Miles with his careful, methodical nature and Finn with his boundless, unfiltered enthusiasm.

"They’re more than amazing," I say softly, my gaze lingering on them. "They’re everything."

Joel looks at me, his expression thoughtful. "You’ve been good for them. They’ve… they’ve needed someone like you."

Joel looks away, his gaze settling on the flickering glow of the fireplace. For a moment, he’s silent, his jaw tightening like he’s holding something back. When he speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant, like he’s unearthing something he doesn’t share often.

“When Lina got sick, I thought… I thought we’d have more time,” he begins, his words measured and deliberate. “She was so strong, so full of life, even when the diagnosis came. She fought like hell for me, for the boys. But cancer doesn’t care how strong you are.”

I feel my breath hitch as he continues, his green eyes clouded with the weight of memories. “Miles was five, Finn was barely three. They were too young to understand what was happening,but they knew something was wrong. Finn started acting out. Tantrums over the smallest things, refusing to sleep unless I stayed in the room with him. And Miles… he tried to be so brave, holding it all in like he thought he had to take care of me and his little brother. It broke my heart.”

He pauses and I see a flicker of pain cross his face. “After she passed, I was a wreck. I didn’t know how to grieve and still be what they needed. It felt like I was failing them every day. I worked too much, trying to keep things together, and they got the worst of it.”

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