Page 7 of Snowed in with the Single Dad

By the time we strapped the tree to the truck we rented to haul it home, the snow had started up again, and we knew there was no way we were going to make it back that night.

I searched for a hotel nearby with availability, but nearly everything was booked. Rachel never complained or said a negative word the entire day, even when we ended up sleeping in a dirty motel off the freeway.

It was one of the things I loved the most about her; she was sunny and positive, even when no one else around her was. That’s not to say she didn’t have bad days. She did. As we all do. But she seemed to handle them better than most people. It’s something I have tried to implement into my own life, and something I hope my daughters will learn from me, too.

Even on our worst days, there are still plenty of positives if we just search for them.

I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see the picture anymore, and I tried to clear my mind. I needed to stop thinking about the past and focus on the adventure I was about to take my girls on. They needed a dad who was fully present and ready to treat them to their best Christmas yet.

3

SKYE

This was a terrible start to my vacation. My three o’clock meeting had been pushed to three thirty, and it didn’t end until nearly five. As my boss spoke to the small group of us who had collected in his office, I paced the floor and checked my watch incessantly.

I needed to go. I needed to get out of there. I was going to miss my flight, and my family would never let me live that down. Plus, I really didn’t want to spend the money to book a new last-minute flight.

As the minutes ticked by, I began getting more and more impatient. I knew everyone in the room could sense my unease, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t the one who scheduled this meeting.

“Are there any questions before we wrap up?” Ron asked the room.

I tapped my toe impatiently as the rest of my colleagues looked around to one another. Just when I thought I was going to escape, Sophie raised her hand.

“Yeah, actually, I do have one quick question about the client’s product.”

I stared at her with all of the intensity I could muster. I was looking at the back of her head, but I hoped she could feel my disdain anyway. I tried to resist cutting her off, but I desperately needed to leave.

“I’m sorry, Ron, but I need to go. Can you email me the notes from the rest of the meeting?”

He glared at me for the interruption. I knew it was rude and unprofessional, but at that point, I didn’t really care.

“Excuse me?”

“I apologize, but I have a flight to catch, and if I don’t leave now, I am going to miss it.”

His eyes burned into me. It probably only took him five seconds to speak again, but it felt like an hour. I started to chew my bottom lip when he finally gestured at the door.

“Fine,” he muttered.

I slipped out without looking back, and rushed to my office to grab my suitcase and order my ride to the airport. Despite my panic, I made it there relatively quickly, at least for New York City standards.

When I arrived,however, I was greeted with the longest security line I had ever seen. Fortunately, I traveled enough so I had access to the priority lane, but the line on that side was still about a mile long.

I jumped into the line and glanced at my watch. My flight was supposed to begin boarding in less than half an hour. I knew all my family was probably already at the gate. I made sure all of their connections through New York gave them plenty of time should something unexpected happen.

I also knew that showing up at the last moment was going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Especially after all of my relentless nagging about being on time and making sure they were prepared. If I was lucky, I would get there before they started boarding, but by the looks of it, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to make it before they closed the doors.

“Skye Harris?” came a voice from behind me.

I turned around to see an incredibly handsome man standing in line with an older woman and two little girls. He had dark hair and stubble peppered with a bit of grey. His blue eyes were immediately familiar, but I couldn’t place him or even remember how I knew him.

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” I said, trying not to stumble over my words in front of this striking man.

“I’m Owen Anderson…we used to be next-door neighbors.”

“Owen Anderson? No way! I haven’t seen you in, like, years!”

“Over 20 years, I think.”

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