Page 58 of Better Daddy

Dammit, they’re adorable.

“Are you tired?” Sully stands across the living room, the look on his face one of yearning. Or maybe that’s the Christmas tree lights making my imagination run wild.

“Not really.” I pat the cushion beside me. “Want to sit with me?”

He hums. “This was always your favorite part.”

“What was?” I ask. He’s right, but I didn’t think he’d ever noticed.

He eases onto the couch and leans back, draping an arm along the back so it’s almost around me, but not quite. Then he gives me his full attention. “The Christmas lights after everyone goes to bed.”

My eyes fall shut and I sigh. It feels good to be seen, to be understood. And this is a reminder that there was a time when he paidattention to my every move. When I wasn’t just an afterthought. “Yup.”

“Want to know my favorite part?”

Surprised by his question, I shift so I’m facing him. I truly don’t know what he likes about Christmas. Honestly, I never thought he cared for the holiday enough to have a favorite part. And he’s never gone out of his way to open up to me about this, along with so, so many other topics.

Typically, on Christmas Eve, we’d sit like this, in comfortable silence, me watching the lights, him probably falling asleep.

Tonight, though, the moment feels more profound.

“Decorating.”

I let out a surprised laugh and eye him. “No way. You hate the mess.”

He shakes his head, his eyes dancing, like he’s delighted that he’s shocked me. “I love it. It started our first year of law school. Do you remember that ridiculous tree Brian brought home?”

A giggle escapes me. “Oh my god. I forgot about the Charlie Brown tree.” I peer at the big one, grinning. “Not sure which one is worse.”

“Back then, I don’t think you could have found a tree you hated more than that one.”

“It was a twig with a Columbia scarf wrapped around it and one lone ornament that made the whole thing tip sideways. It was offensive.” I purchased a single string of lights, hoping it would help, but the tree was beyond saving. Sully and Brian hosted a Christmas party—really, just beer and chips because we were students, even if our parents had plenty of money—and in my mind, that meant they should have a nice tree.

Sully’s lips twitch. “You put on Christmas music because you said it was a crime to decorate without it. Then you danced around our living room, laughing and smiling, lighting up my pathetically depressing life.”

I frown, studying him more closely. I don’t remember Sully ever being anything even close to pathetically depressed.

“And remember the year we moved in together after we took the bar? That Christmas, you covered every surface in twinkling lights.”

I smile as I remember that day. “You were so worried the fire marshal would show up. You checked the outlets ten times before we left for the firm’s Christmas party.”

Sully nods, a wistful expression on his face. “I knew we’d be out late that night. Didn’t want to come home to embers.”

I bite my lip. “We danced all night.”

“That’s not all we did,” he murmurs, his fingers playing with the ends of my hair.

“Nope, after doing one too many shots at the bar, you snagged the bottle of whiskey the bartender left out, then dragged me through the hotel kitchen and into a closet so you could have your way with me.”

His eyes fall to my lips. “I needed you right then. Couldn’t wait.”

I laugh at his honesty and then give him a dose of my own. “I miss that. That feeling. When we couldn’t keep our hands off one another.” Emotion wells up inside me, making my words garbled. “When you couldn’t look away from me.” I bury my face in my shoulder, hiding from his scrutiny.

Sully palms my cheek, gently forcing my head up. “I can’t look away from you now.”

I give him a sad smile. “This is different. I’m pregnant. We’re—” I shake my head, leaning into his palm and inhaling deeply.

Even now, after all we’ve been through, he still smells like home. His touch still feels like home. Yet here we are, two people who once loved each other so much and now find it difficult to even have a full conversation.