Page 21 of Single Dad Billionaire Boss

“Nope. But I’ll give you a piggyback ride back downstairs to make some hot chocolate.”

Zoe threw a chokehold around my neck and I galloped down the stairs with her on my back. I tried to make pony sounds, but they sounded squeezed and choked off. This made her laugh. “You sound like a sheep!” she cried.

“Sheep don’t say neigh.”

“If they get sick, they do!”

After I hauled in the rest of our stuff from the car, Zoe pushed the button on the microwave for some popcorn while I made hot cocoa. I even sent Jacob a photo of her with whipped cream on her nose.

“Is Daddy gonna be here soon?” she asked.

“He’ll be here as soon as he can,” I said. “What do you want to do until then?”

“The tree!”

“You should wait for Daddy to do that,” I said. “You always do it together.”

“Please? I need it pretty for when he gets here.”

“Okay, how about paper chains? Do you have any construction paper here?”

Zoe slipped off her chair and took off upstairs. “I got a craft closet!” she cried, and soon returned with a stack of colored paper, plus some glue sticks, tape, and stickers. I found scissors and cut the paper into strips. With the glue stick, I made a loop and slipped another strip of paper through it, joining the ends to make links. Zoe’s face was all wonder.

“I did it!” she cried when it was her turn. “It’s sticking! Oh—my thumb is sticky now!”

I played some Christmas music on my phone, turning the volume up to cover the howl of the wind outside. We made a jumble of colorful links for the paper chain. At first, I tried to steer her toward the traditional red and green. Then I thought, if she wants purple and pink and orange garland on the tree, why not?

Our arms overflowed with piles of paper chains that we took to the tree. I grabbed a stool and did my best to drape the garland neatly, but even on the top step I couldn’t reach more than two-thirds of the way up. Down lower, Zoe ran around the tree and hung the paper chain in a sloppy circle. She shouted the words to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and then wrapped the dangling end of the garland around her neck like a feather boa. I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture. I sent it to Jacob, trying to ignore the worry gnawing at my stomach.

The wind wailed and buffeted the windows as the sun set. It had started snowing—not too heavily yet, but steady with the threat of the coming storm. Jacob just had to make it here before the weather got worse, I thought. I shut my eyes briefly, letting myself admit that I needed him to be here. I would not rest until he came through the front door, safe and sound.

When I checked my phone again, the message delivery failure notification made me grit my teeth. I forced a smile and suggested to Zoe that we make some supper. Zoe was stuffed full of popcorn and hot chocolate, and I couldn’t eat for worrying, but I needed to get my mind off Jacob. I put Zoe to work cutting strawberries for a fruit salad while I whipped together some pasta.

“I want to wait for Daddy,” Zoe said. It wasn’t a whine, but I could hear the worry in her voice, so I pulled her close.

“He’s on his way, Zuzu. It’s just slow going because of the snow.”

“We come here to get snow! It’s what we want. Why is that slow?”

“Driving on snow is tricky and takes longer. The fun of the snow is what you can do once you get up here. You know, like skiing.”

“Skiing is fun. I’m good at it. I get to try snowboarding this year, too.”

After I gave Zoe a bath, I turned on a cartoon for her. Still no news from Jacob when I checked my phone, so I called Marsha, his assistant. Yes, it was Christmas Eve. Yes, Marsha was on vacation and probably spending time with her family, but I just didn’t have it in me to be patient and considerate. I had to ask if she’d heard anything.

Unfortunately, my call went to voicemail. I looked at the airline app but there was no update on Jacob’s flight. I refreshed the app a few times—his flight should have been on the ground over two hours ago. We should’ve heard from him by now. None of the rational explanations I came up with offered any comfort, so I tried to occupy my mind by baking some sugar cookies for Zoe to decorate for Santa.

I had just taken them out of the oven when my phone screeched with a weather alert. Dangerous storms were closing in. I silenced the alarm and got out colored frosting pouches and sprinkles for Zoe. Once she was situated on a stool smearing green icing and licking the spoon, I darted to the window. There was no sign of headlights, just a thick curtain of snow. I turned the TV up to cover the sound of the wind and tried to contain the mess Zoe was making. She had sprinkles stuck in frosting on her forehead. I wiped it away and kissed her there.

Before we were finished decorating cookies, Zoe started yawning. It was way past her bedtime. I took her to wash up and brush her teeth.

“Why won’t Daddy come home?” she said, her eyes big with worry.

“Slow traffic,” I told her. “You need to go to sleep now so Santa gets the all-clear to head this way.”

“I wanna sleep downstairs so I know when Daddy comes home.”

“If you sleep on the couch near the tree, Santa won’t come.”

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