Page 119 of Booked for the Holidays
Bridget exchanges the handwritten note for the small, glossy images. The first is of me in the bookstore, looking over my shoulder. I’m searching for something off camera. Bridget, I presume. There’s a wide smile on my face, and a gleam in my eyes. The second is of the two of us together, side by side at the counter, chocolate batter on our faces. I’m staring down at her, rolling my lips to stop a grin while she laughs. The third is the one of me and Mac on her bike, Christmas morning long ago. The final photo is from the mall. I’m sandwiched between Mac and Bridget, my arms around both of them, grinning from ear to ear.
“No one’s gotten me to smile like that in years,” I murmur. My chest pinches with the admission, the firm barrier around my heart crumbling to rubble. “People have tried. Some have come close. But fuckclose. It was you, making brownies, flour on our faces and chocolate chips in my hair, that got me to grin. And laugh. And fuckinglive. It was falling on my ass ice skating and lifting tree after tree into my truck. It was seeing you with my daughter. It was hanging lights and painting reindeer. It was burnt latkes and Thanksgiving dinner. I’m not big on fate, but there’s a reason you bought the store next to mine. There’s a reason we were paired together for this competition. It brought me to you.”
“Theo.” Her hands reach out and clutch my cheeks. I’m her lifeline, keeping her afloat. A place of warmth and peace. And she’s my anchor; steady. Secure. Withstanding even the roughest seas. “I’m going to do my best to get you to smile like that every day damn, because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I love you, I want to say. It’s close,so fucking close, to spilling out once and for all. Because that’s the thing about love, I’ve learned. It’s unexpected, a surprise that greets you one day and alters the trajectory of your life. It happened with Mac. It happened the first day I ever walked into A Likely Story, the waft of sweet blueberries tugging me inside and finding the bubbly brunette smiling at me like I wasimportant.
Like even then, she could see what lay beneath the sharp exterior.
There’s no going back now, so much of myself woven into the woman next to me, a thread tethering us together. Forever, I hope.
“Want to break the news to Mac?” I ask. “She’s going to flip her shit.”
“Yes,” Bridget says. She’s giddy as she rolls off the bed, grabbing the nearest article of clothing—a T-shirt of mine and a sweatshirt—and yanking it over her head. “Bring the tissues. It’s going to be waterworks central, buddy. Hope you’re prepared to deal with that for a long, long time.”
She disappears into the bathroom, hands working to pull her hair into a ponytail.
“Yeah,” I say into the empty room. “I am.”
* * *
I park outside my parents’house. Bridget is in the passenger seat and Ziggy is in the back, staring out the window. He whines, and I reach around to pat his head.
“Are we going inside?” Bridget asks, gaze bouncing between me and the porch.
“Nah. It’ll be more fun this way.” I send a message to Mac, letting her know I’m out front and to take the back seat when she gets to the car.
“She already has one broken arm, Theo. Don’t encourage her to break the other.”
The front door opens and closes, and I watch my kid skip down the path to the truck. She slides into the back, slamming the door behind her. “Why the heck am I not in the front, Dad? And what’s Ziggy doing here?”
“Hey, kiddo.” I grin at her through the rearview mirror. “Sorry. I have to demote you to permanent backseat privileges. Someone else has longer legs than you, and she needs the space.” I look at Bridget and tilt my head.
“Hey, Mac and Cheese,” she says. Her body contorts in the seat, twisting to give Mac a wave.
“FINALLY,” the half-pint bellows. Ziggy punctuates the interjection with a loud bark. “Oh my god. What does this mean?”
“It means Bridget’s going to be around more, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Mac says quickly.
“I don’t mean in a friend capacity, either,” I clarify.
“Mac,” Bridget interjects. “I’m excited to spend time with you two. I like your dad, and I like you, too. If you’re uncomfortable with this, please tell me. You won’t hurt my feelings. I want to make sure we’re all okay with these new roles going forward.”
“What should I call you? Mom? BB?”
Bridget looks at me, panic-stricken, before schooling her features and clearing her throat. “You can call me whatever you want. BB is just fine.”
“Okay.” Mac nods solemnly. Her glee has faded, and I think she’s understanding how big of a step this is. “I don’t care what the title is. I’m glad you get to be a part of our lives.” Her eyes dart to me. “We’re lucky, Dad. You’re not allowed to do anything to screw it up.”
I chuckle, palm falling to Bridget’s knee. “Trust me. I know we are. No screw ups planned this time, punk.”
Bridget’s shoulders shake with a rumble of laughter. “We’ll have a more serious conversation about this soon. Until then, we have a competition to win and a birthday to celebrate!”
FORTY-SEVEN
BRIDGET
