Page 38 of Dancing in Lake Mistletoe

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, not wanting to make this moment about me. I can’t imagine what he went through—what it’s still like for him.

“It was hard,” he says, his voice steady but low. “Harder than I’d ever thought it would be. There were days I didn’t know if I could keep going. I’d be up all night with Josie, trying to calm her down after she woke up crying, and I was barely holding it together myself. I didn’t have time to grieve, not really. I had to keep it together for Josie. She needed me.”

I squeeze his hand, offering him silent support. He’s opening up in a way I didn’t expect, and I want him to know I’m okay with it, that I’m listening.

“And then,” he continues, “there was the guilt. I wasn’t just grieving for Lexi; I was grieving for the life we were supposed to have. The career I’d worked so hard for. The family we were supposed to be. I’d look at Josie and feel this overwhelming love for her, but at the same time, I’d feel grief for the dreams I knew I had to give up and guilt because I couldn’t give her what she deserved. She deserved two parents. She deserved her mom.”

His voice cracks a little, and he clears his throat, looking out the window again, as if he needs a moment to gather himself. The silence between us is there, but not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that carries weight, but isn’t heavy.

After a moment, he looks back at me, his eyes softer now. “I tried my best, Mindi. I really did. But there were days when I thought I was failing her. I wasn’t just trying to be a dad; I was trying to be both parents. And that’s impossible. I knew that. But it didn’t stop me from feeling like I wasn’t enough.”

“You are enough, Dutch,” I say, the words coming out almost instinctively. “You’ve done so much for her. I see it every time I’m around you two. The way she looks at you, the way she knows you’ll always be there for her. You’re her world.”

He gives me a small, grateful smile, but there’s still a sadness in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I don’t always feel like I am. But I love her more than anything. And I’ve tried to make sure she knows that.”

“She does,” I say firmly. “She absolutely does. Everyone around you two does.”

He takes another deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a little, as if sharing those words lifted a weight off of him. “I just wanted to be honest with you,” he says, his voice softer now. “This is a part of who I am. Raising Josie on my own has shaped me in ways I can’t always explain. I’m not the same guy I was before Lexi died.”

I nod, my heart swelling with affection for him. “I wouldn’t expect you to be,” I say.

He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. We sit here, letting the quiet settle around us. And in that silence, I realize just how much I like Dutch, how much I admire him—for being that father—and how much I enjoy just being here with him.

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Saying good-bye to my wife. For a while, I thought I’d never get over it. Never want to date again. But then I realized that she wouldn’t want that. She left me a great gift and a piece of herself. Now, I can look at Josie and feel appreciation for the years we shared and still be able to look forward to what lies ahead. That love never ends; it lives on in Josie. And I want to show her the happiness the future holds and give her a great, big, beautiful life, not stay stuck in the past.”

Josie’s a lucky girl, and the woman that Dutch Lowell ends up with will be a lucky girl as well.

Dutch

The ride back to Lake Mistletoe is filled with loaded silence. It was a great night. One that I’m not quite ready to end. When I pull up to the inn, I park at the side of the garage, out of sight, and leave the engine running.

Mindi looks over at me. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too.”

Her eyes flit from me to the back door of the inn.

I raise my hand and cup the side of her face, bringing her eyes back to me. Then, I lean in and take her mouth with mine. She tastes of wine and chocolate.

Her hands fist into the sides of my coat as she pulls herself closer. I deepen the kiss as she moans into my mouth. The sound snaps what little self-control I have.

I snake my hands around her hips and tug her across the seat, and she slides her right leg over my lap and straddles me. Then, she wraps her arms around my neck and brings her mouth back to mine.

I open for her and let out a deep groan as she settles her weight on top of me.

My hand slides around her and comes to the small of her back, where the hem of her dress has risen, and I find her smooth skin. I spread my hand there and pull her in closer to my chest.

Our mouths disengage as she gasps when she feels me growing hard beneath her. My lips move to her neck, and she tilts her head to give me better access. I kiss my way down her throat to her collarbone. I lick the sensitive spot at the top of her shoulder, and she bears down on me.

I hiss at the contact and pull my mouth from her.

“Come home with me.” The request comes out more like a demand, and my eyes search hers.

“Okay,” she murmurs before kissing me one more time.

As soon as she settles back into the passenger seat, I ram the truck into drive and race to my house.

We make it in record time.

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