Page 143 of A Very Merry Mistake

“Never underestimate the power of a woman in stilettos,” Claire says, holding up her glass. “What are we celebrating? We have to toast to something.”

I clear my throat. “To new beginnings.”

“I love that,” Claire says.

“I love you,” I mutter, keeping my eyes locked on hers.

“Love you,” she whispers back.

“Aww, you’re both so adorable together. Wait, wait, one second.” Emma pulls her phone out of her pocket and takes a selfie with us, and in the background is a tiny golden ball that will drop in approximately three hours. “The internet will lose it over this pic.”

“Please don’t put anything too wild as the caption,” Claire warns.

“Okay, we can finish our toast. To new beginnings,” Emma says, and we all drink. Once our glasses are empty, Emma gives me and Claire hugs goodbye and announces she’s leaving. “Can’t be early, but don’t want to be late, either.”

Claire snickers and walks her to the door. “Don’t forget to text me.”

Emma groans. “I know, I know. I won’t.”

As I’m sitting on the couch, watching the footage from Times Square, Claire walks toward me. She sits in my lap, her mouth automatically gravitating to mine.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” she whispers.

“No, darlin’, I’m the lucky one.”

Just as the kiss deepens, there’s a knock on the door. She groans and gets up. “Emma probably forgot something.”

But when she swings it open, she gasps.

I turn my head and see a tuxedoed man with salt-and-pepper hair. He has the same eyes as Claire and Emma.

This is her dad.

“Father,” she says in that serious tone I’ve heard several times.

I sit up straighter, smoothing down my button-up shirt. For once, I’m glad I dressed up for the occasion, even though we are staying in. I think Claire’s overwhelming need to have the best first impression comes from him.

“Claire, may I come in?” he asks.

She steps to the side, allowing him to enter. I stand, and he meets my eyes.

“I assume this is the young man that you’re seeing?”

“Yes,” she states calmly. “This is Jake Jolly.”

“My friends call me JJ, sir,” I offer, taking his hand, and he gives me a small smile. It’s polite, a reaction I’m sure he doesn’t give many people.

“I wanted to talk to you in person,” he says.

Not wanting to be the reason they have no privacy, I grab my coat. “I’ll be right back.”

Claire nods. “Five minutes.”

“Okay,” I say, kissing her on the cheek, then I leave.

This is a conversation they need to have after everything that’s happened today. I take the elevator down to the bottom floor and walk the block. There are people everywhere, many wearing the silly hats I saw on TV with a sponsor written across the front and light-up glasses, souvenirs people who have been standing out there all day received. I’m patient, but I don’t think I could do it.

I check the time on my phone and set an alarm for five minutes. As I’m strolling down the sidewalk, I try to take in the tall buildings and the crispness in the air and realize just how loud it is. It’s almost as if the streets themselves are humming.

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