Page 27 of Single Dad Billionaire Boss

Ella laughed. “See? That’s the key to diplomacy. Now open your present.”

“I thought Zoe might want to—”

“Not the ones from her. From me.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. Open it. You’re going to love it.”

I unwrapped a small gray machine and looked at her quizzically.

“It’s a personal laminator,” Ella said, beaming. “You can laminate the pages for the binder and that way they won’t tear or be damaged by water. It even comes with thirty laminating sleeves.”

“That poor binder,” I said, shaking my head. “Come on, you have to admit it’s useful.”

“Very useful, yes. I killed a spider with it yesterday.”

I laughed and held her eyes. “I love it,” I said, then grew self-conscious at the warmth bubbling up inside of me. “The laminator, I mean. Thank you, Ella.”

Before Ella could reply, Zoe burst out of the bounce house, red-faced and happy and demanding breakfast. I went into the kitchen and made French toast and eggs. I felt guilty as I cooked. I liked having Ella there for Christmas morning. More than that, I’d exchanged looks with her when Zoe was being funny or sweet. We’d understood each other without speaking. I had never experienced that with a woman before, not even Amanda.

Breakfast was a flurry of noise and sticky syrup before Zoe went back to jumping. After I cleaned up the kitchen, I found her asleep on the couch.

“She’s sacked out,” Ella said. “I guess the excitement and all that jumping up and down did her in. Ah, youth. I’d be on oxygen if I spent half that long in a bounce house.”

“She was up late,” I said. I carried Zoe up to her room, tucked her in, and shut the door. When I returned downstairs, Ella had already begun folding up the bags and empty boxes. I sorted the recyclables and took a seat on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee. Ella flopped down beside me and tipped her head back on the cushions.

“How can I be so tired from just watching her?” she asked, and I shrugged.

“Maybe it was your near-death experience outside that wore you out.”

“You’re not letting that go, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah, well, despite your lectures on blizzard safety, I had a great Christmas. I loved helping set up the Santa stuff and seeing Zoe open her gifts. Thank you for including me.”

“I guess I could’ve made you stand out in the garage while we celebrated.”

Ella elbowed me. “I’m serious,” she said. “I loved every minute of it.”

“It’s been a good Christmas,” I said. “I never get to do this—you know, having someone else around to share in Zoe’s joy. I’ve been the only witness to her life—and don’t get me wrong, it’s precious to me—but I don’t think I realized until now that I missed having someone else around to witness those things, too. Maybe understand is a better word.”

“Zoe is special to me,” Ella said after a moment. “And, gosh, do I love her personality. Like, when she kept yelling uh-oh, I was thinking, in ten years she’s going to do some daredevil stuff with her friends and have the exact same attitude of oopsies, maybe that was a mistake but hey, what the heck, it was fun.”

“I was thinking I’d like to keep her this age forever.”

“She’s so wise and silly and creative. And confident. I’d hate to see her lose that the way some of my eighth graders do. Part of it is they don’t want to stand out and look foolish, but… well, Zoe’s confidence is one of my favorite things about her.”

“Exactly,” I said. “I guess what I’m saying is, it was a luxury to do this, Ella. Having you here to share inside jokes about the binder and the stuffed animals, to look at you and know you’re thinking the same thing I am. When Amanda was alive, we never did anything even remotely approaching that and… I don’t know…”

Ella didn’t say anything after I trailed off. And who could blame her? Whatdoyou say to a guy who starts comparing you to his ex-wife?

“I apologize,” I said finally. “I’ve made you uncomfortable and gotten too personal.”

Her eyes bright, Ella shook her head, put her arms around me, and hugged me tight. I did the same, allowing myself for the first time to hold her,reallyhold her, as if all I wanted to do was memorize the feel of her in my arms and the smell of her peach shampoo. I closed my eyes, our breathing and the crackling fire the only sounds. Time seemed to lose all hold on me then—and how long we held each other, I cannot say—but eventually Ella let me go and went into the kitchen. It was for the best, I thought.

Otherwise, I might have sat there holding her all day.

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