Page 117 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“Thank you, sir.”
“I didn’t come here to make excuses.” He casts a quick glance at Sara, then his eyes swing back to me. “But if you have a daughter someday, maybe you’ll understand where I was coming from.” He lays both palms on his knees and leans forward. “We spent our summers here in Abieville, but as time went by, Katherine and I felt like we were losing Sara the other ninemonths of the year. We were afraid her focus in college would be compromised. That she’d end up sacrificing her goals. So we thought?—”
“Dad,” Sara interrupts. “We’ve already discussed this. Three and I did. Then I talked to you and Mom. So there’s no need to rehash what you said and your reasons for it all over again. That’s not why you came here.”
“You’re right.” His jaw shifts. “In any case, I’d like to hear from you, Three. This is all a lot to take in, you know. Sara came back to Abieville on a family errand completely unrelated to you. And yet, you two ended up reconnecting. Unexpectedly.”
“Well, I might’ve hadsomeidea I’d see him,” Sara quips. “And I’m a grownup, Dad. I don’t need anyone else to understand us but us.”
“Grownup or not,” Katherine says, turning to face Sara, “you’re still our baby.” Her voice cracks, and she flicks her gaze over to me. “All Charles and I care about—all we’ve ever cared about—is our daughter’s happiness.”
I clear the jagged edge in my throat. “Then I’m glad to report, we have the same goal.”
“That’s obvious, just seeing the two of you together.” Katherine’s eyes glimmer with unshed tears. “Sara’s never looked so happy.”
Charles grunts. “So you’ll take care of her.” The words are a statement, not a question, which I hope means he already believes this. Still, I want to do my part to remove any lingering doubts. It’s time to plead my case.
“I’m a hard worker, sir, and I make a good, honest living.” My bones feel tight in my torso, but I carry on. “I intend to do whatever it takes to provide for your daughter. Always.”
“Same,” Sara pipes up. “I mean, I want to provide for us, too.”
My gaze sweeps over to her, and the warmth of her smile is a blanket on my insides. “How about we take careof each other?”
She lifts her palm and lays it on her chest just over her heart. “Deal.”
When I do the same, mirroring her, Sara sucks in a breath and points across the table. “The cuff.”
I glance down to the sleeve of my shirt now riding up my forearm. “Oh. This. Yes.” Around my wrist is the same leather cuff Sara gave me for my birthday years ago. “I still have yours too.” I nod to indicate the only present under the tree. “And I guess I just ruined the surprise.”
“You kept them both? All this time?” Her questions are breathless but full of joy.
My lip curves up on one side. “I toldyou I never got over you.”
Sara hops up, squeezing between her mother’s legs and the coffee table. At the same time, I slowly rise from the chair. So when she leaps into my arms, I’m ready to catch her.
I’ll always catch Sara.
She wraps her legs around my middle, and plants the sweetest kiss on my mouth.
“I’d like to rephrase.” I grin at her. “I never stopped loving you.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Sara’s Voicemail: December 31st
From Bristol: Happy New Year’s Eve! What are you and your gorgeous man up to tonight? Besides being ridiculously adorable, I mean? Ugh. I’m so jealous of you two. Actually, no. Forget I said that. I’m not ready to settle down yet. I AM, however, ready to be a maid of honor. I know it’s early, so no pressure if you won’t be asking me for another year or so. But I do look good in pink and I will say yes in case you’re wondering.
From The Queen:Sorry we missed your call. Daddy and I were on a no-phones date. Our plan was to finish dinner and beat the crowds to be back home well before the ball drops, which I’m pleased to say we accomplished. But I did want to tell you I’ve been doing a bit of research, and you’ll never guess what I discovered: The name Fuller is listed on the Mayflower manifest, which means our forefathers and Three’s could’ve been on the boat together. How delightful is that? Anyway, kisses. And Happy New Year, dear.
From Dad:Hello, Sara. I had a talk with the partners this week, and they’d like to pursue that project you mentioned—the possible mentorship/scholarship program between Hathaway Cooke and the kids at Youth Save. We decided we could maintain our current program with the DAR and add the new one you proposed. But we’re hoping you’d be willing to take the lead on that as an independent contractor. Call me to discuss the details if you’re interested. But no work talk until Monday. I’m taking the whole weekend off.
Nella:Hi, Sara! We’re docked in Hawaii, so I hope this message goes through. I don’t know if Three mentioned this to you, but I got my real estate license last year, and I’d love to help you find office space either in Abieville or somewhere nearby if you’re up for it. Pro bono, of course, as the lawyers say. We can chat when I get back from the cruise. Speaking of which, can you keep a secret? Text or call me if you get this.
“Best New Year’s Day ever,” Three says, pulling me down onto the couch. We just finished dinner and we’re at his place now since the lake house is officially a Platinum Stays home.
The first renters arrive tomorrow morning, on January 2nd. My mom is beyond pleased with herself.
When the cleaning crew came to detail the place, I suggested we move our Christmas tree over to Three’s house. That turned out to be an unrealistic pipe dream, though. The popcorn garland wasn’t exactly fresh, and too many needles were falling off. Plus we didn’t have a truck.
