Page 28 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

“Yeah, of course.” He dumped the new batch of dough onto the cutting board and began forming a rectangle. “She was just twenty-one when she got pregnant, and she wasn’t ready to be a mom. She actually wasn’t going to tell my son about it. He only found out because he overheard mutual friends talking about it.”

“Oh, boy. That’s tough.”

“He asked her to hold off on taking any action. He needed time to process.” He hunched a shoulder. “Walker’s like me. We need to ruminate.”

“I’m the same way. I admire people who can size up a situation and make a snap decision, but I need time. I need to look at it from all angles.”

“Yep. So, like you, he went into his cave, kept to himself. I knew something was up, but when I tried to talk to him, he clammed up. He’s a planner. He had goals. And being a father would change everything. That’s not easy for him.”

“Wait, are you saying he didn’t want to work at the mine?”

“No, no. He did. Eventually. But he loved travel, and he had a goal of visiting every continent. He kept a travel folder with ideas like going to Iceland to help toss the pufflings into the ocean and visiting the Turtle Festival in Velas Beach. But it wasn’t just that. He’d hoped to win back his high school girlfriend and build a life with her, and he didn’t know what she’d think of raising another woman’s child.”

“Whoo. Yeah, that’s a huge upheaval. So, what made him finally decide?”

“His mother.” His tone hardened, and he focused on wrapping the dough in plastic wrap.

“When he told her the situation, she said, ‘Get rid of it.’ It was the way she referred to his child—her grandchild—as an it that changed his perspective. He went straight to his girlfriend’s apartment and asked if he could raise the baby himself.”

“How did that go? If she didn’t want to keep it, how did she feel about carrying a child to term?”

“She said it was her body, her choice, and he said, ‘Yeah, but it’s fifty percent my DNA.’ They hashed it out, and eventually, she agreed to it. She signed away her rights.”

“And you’ve never heard from her since?”

“Not a peep. But I think it all worked out in the end. Walker’s a great dad, and Colt’s a really good kid.” He clearly loved his grandson. He looked around the kitchen where people were pulling cookies out of the oven, grabbing dough from the fridge, and making new ones at their stations. “One more batch?”

“Sure.” She headed to the sink to fill the measuring glass with water. When she returned, she found he’d already begun setting up. “Quick learner.”

“It helps that I watch everything you do.” When she faltered, he stuttered out a laugh. “That sounded creepy. But you know, I am fascinated by you.”

“But why? I’m just…average.”

He looked like she’d shoved him. “Average? Are you serious? Look at you. Look at all you’ve been through. For seven years, you kept your spirits high—”

“Yeah, so my ex wouldn’t sink into despair.”

“But you did it. For seven years. And then, after the way he treated you, you’re not bitter and angry. You’re building a future. I’m in awe of you.” He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “I saw your art, by the way. You’re incredibly talented.”

“Oh, well, thank you.”

He tipped her chin. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Look down and say ‘thank you’ like you thought I was just being nice?”

“Because I’ve never shown my work before. Not since college when I felt like I had the potential to become the next Monet. Since then, I’ve barely touched a canvas. And now, I’m basing my entire future on something that might not pan out.”

“I think it will,” he said quietly.

She hated to be so insecure, but she really didn’t know. “Well, it’s one thing to make pretty ornaments or book covers, but the art world is different. There has to be something special…avant-garde…revolutionary.”

“Does there? I always thought art needed to make you feel things. And yours does.”

“Like?” Sure, she was testing him. But he couldn’t just make these statements without backing them up.

“Your watercolors are ethereal, but I get a strong sense of home. Of settling in by a fire. But also, the colors are vibrant, almost…I don’t know…festive. So, they make me happy and comforted at the same time.” He cocked his head. “They’re you. They’re totally and completely you.”

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