Page 118 of Daddy's Little Christmas

When the story ended, he turned in my lap so quickly I barely caught him before he knocked into my chest. His face was flushed, eyes shiny.

“Daddy?” His voice trembled—not from fear, but from fullness.

“Yes, little one.”

“I love you.”

The words came out tiny but clear.

Honest.

Earned.

My breath punched out of me.

I’d loved this boy, this man, from almost the very beginning. And over the last year I’d told him so a million times, and he’d done the same to me.

“Rudy,” I said, my voice not steady at all. I cupped his face, his curls brushing my wrists. “Angel. Sweet boy. Light of my life.”

He blinked up at me, hopeful and trembling.

“I love you,” I said. “I love you so damn much.”

His whole body melted.

“Daddy loves me,” he whispered into my neck. “Daddy loves me…”

“I do,” I murmured, kissing the top of his red curls. “Always.”