Page 24 of Havoc for the Holidays

“Everything. It's everything. The showcase, the studio finances, the move, Oll—”

“The root of the issue. Oliver. He's such a sweet man, isn't he?” She set the kettle on the base and flicked the switch to turn it on before turning toward me with a knowing grin. “You know aswell as I do, the finances will work out fine, and the showcase will be perfection. So be honest with me; what's bugging you?”

“I'm worried about him.” I shrugged and slid into a chair at her kitchen table. “He's so shy and withdrawn and it makes sense now that I've seen how ruthless the rumor mill can be here.”

She gave a nod and cocked her head to the side. “You don't judge him for anything those crusty old local types are saying, right?”

My eye roll was so intense, it physically hurt. “Oh, ye of little faith. Of course not.”

“As I suspected.” She hummed to herself as she plucked the freshly boiled kettle from its base and carefully poured it into two mugs.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you love him and the gossip has your sassy bitchy side coming out to play.” She fiddled with the canister of powdered cocoa mix as she resumed humming.

“I… what… Mom!” I fumbled over my words before scoffing. “You're nuts.”

“Please. I know you better than you know yourself.” She approached and slid the mugs onto the table before pulling a chair closer to sit in front of me and take my hands. “My Ezechiel, bold and brash and ready to take on the world—an award winning dancer and choreographer, a studio owner, and dance instructor is getting all worked up over some gossip that won't spread beyond this postage stamp of a town all because of a sweet young man who I've seen in our driveway more than a few times on the nights you aren't in his.”

I parted my lips to protest, but the words were extinguished with a huff. I squeezed her hands in mine before relenting. “I really do like him.”

“We’ll go with like if it makes you feel more comfortable.” She winked and lifted my hands, kissing the knuckles on each beforeletting go. “He's good for you. I always had a feeling you’d settle down one day. You always had impeccable taste, so I'm not the least bit surprised it was Oliver that finally caught your wild heart, my love.”

“He's not what I expected either.” I reached out and cradled my mug with both hands, letting the warmth and rich aroma ground me. “Which is why he's perfect. Is it too fast, though?”

“Who gets to decide too fast or too slow? Does it feel too fast foryou?” she countered with an arched brow.

“No… it feels effortless.” I examined the rich chocolate and blew softly to stir the steam into a swirl. “It just… happened.”

“Then it doesn't matter if it's too fast or too slow. It happened because it was meant to. Do you think he feels the same, or is that the problem?”

“The problem is that he's shy as hell and the stupid gossip mongers have him throwing up his shields again.”

She hummed softly and lifted her mug to her lips. “Then I guess you know exactly what you need to do, my bold and brash baby boy.”

I eyed her with a slow smirk and we both chuckled quietly. Leave it to my mother to make something impossible seem like the simplest thing in the world. I couldn't keep the grin from my face as she nodded, just once. Yeah, I knew exactly what I needed to do after all.

Chapter fifteen

Ollie

With only three days until my parents were scheduled to arrive, four days until the showcase, and everything that came along with Becs’ last week of school, my stress levels were through the roof. It took every single brain cell I possessed to keep track of everything, including the sheer chaos that was Spirit Week. Honestly, my daughter was pulling double duty as my secretary to stay on top of which day was which. To my absolute horror, today was Grinch Day. Her curls were wild on a good day. Trying to tame them into a Cindy Lou style at herinsistence necessitated half a bottle of hairspray, three YouTube tutorials, and patience I didn't know I possessed.

Naturally, we missed the bus, which meant I was desperately racing to get her into the car fast enough to avoid her being late. Once I had the car on the road, she reminded me of something else I had forgotten.

“Daddy, the class party is later. Are you still going to bring cupcakes?”

I groaned and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I didn't dare respond until after I had taken three deep breaths. “Yes. What time does it start, darling?”

“One! We're gonna sing a song and everything.” Her wide-eyed excitement only barely tempered my flustered state.

“I'll be there. I can't wait to hear your song.” I mentally calculated how much time I had as I flicked on my blinker and pulled into the school parking lot. These occasions were my least favorite. I was still in my pajamas. Nothing screamed “hot mess parent” quite like hurrying my child into the school wearing flannel bottoms with a rat’s nest of uncombed hair atop my head. Being the youngest parent of her class by a large margin was already a huge issue for me. Calling even more attention to it was the last thing I needed right now.

We exchanged kisses and hugs in the front entrance of the school before she was on her way to another exciting day of kindergarten. I couldn't help but linger too long as I watched her Cindy Lou hair and overly large backpack bounce away down the cavernous hall. She was so little and yet had grown too fast already. Parenthood was strange like that. With a wistful sigh, I turned to leave and nearly bumped into one of the other parents from her class.

“Oop! Hello, Ollie.”

“Oh! I'm so sorry.” I stepped back and exhaled a nervous laugh. “Happy holidays.”

---