I sat up taller and smiled. “Good. I saw it on Monday, and it’s incredible. I mean, it needs a ton of work, but it’s a beautiful old brick house with a wraparound porch and a huge yard.”

“When does he move in?”

“Closing is the twenty-ninth, but I don’t think he’s moving in until after the first.”

“When do you move in?” She smiled deviously.

“Blair!” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not moving in. Good grief, it’s only been a few weeks.”

“It’s only been a few weeks since you guys did something about your feelings,” she clarified. “But the feelings have been there a lot longer than that. And it sounds like everything is perfect, so what on earth is bothering you?”

Sighing, I took one more sip of tea and set the cup down. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but this is going to sound totally stupid, and you’re probably going to tell me I’m nuts.”

“I’d like nothing more.”

I rolled my eyes and sat up taller. “So everything is going really well. We see each other every day, even if it’s just for a little bit. We talk for hours on the phone each night. And the way he looks at me—it’s the cutest thing, almost like he’s afraid I’m going to disappear.”

“Awww.” She sipped her coffee, holding the cup in two hands.

“We don’t get enough alone time, of course, but when we do, the sex is like rattle-the-ceiling good.”

“Yes, I know—because you rattled my kitchen floor when you were going at it downstairs in the garage.”

My cheeks got hot, and I laughed. “Sorry about that. We were trying to be fast. And quiet, I swear.”

“Fail,” she said. “But I’m still not hearing any cause for concern here, Chey.”

“I’m getting to it. A week ago, the night he told me he loved me, in fact, he mentioned something about being afraid.”

Blair’s eyes widened. “What did he say he was afraid of?”

“Something he can’t see coming.” I let it sink in for a moment. “And ever since then, I cannot shake the feeling that he’s, like, looking over his shoulder, waiting for disaster to strike.”

“Hmm. Are you sure you’re not imagining it?”

“I’m sure. He seems happy, but he goes silent a lot too. And when I ask if he’s okay, he says he’s just thinking about the house or something at work, or he gives me the dreaded ‘I’m fine.’”

She nodded. “It kind of makes sense, you know? The whole ‘waiting for disaster’ thing? Looking at you like he’s worried you’ll disappear? He’s probably nervous about feeling so happy. Like, he’s looking around for the anvil about to drop on his head because that’s what happened when he loved someone before.”

“You might be right.” I thought for a moment, chewing my lip. “He said something else once, and I never forgot it. He was talking about Mariah, and he said, ‘She’s learned that love doesn’t protect you from loss.’ Like it was a fact.”

“Well . . .” Blair’s shoulders rose. “It kind of is.”

“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love people,” I said, frustrated that she agreed with him.

“No, and he wasn’t saying that. He was saying that love isn’t some kind of magic shield you can wear that will prevent you from getting hurt. In fact, love makes you more vulnerable to pain.”

“Blaaaaair,” I moaned. “You’re not helping. You were supposed to tell me I’m being paranoid.”

“Sorry. But I don’t think you are.” She set her cup down and reached for my hand. “Listen. You’re in love with a man who suffered a horrible loss, out of the blue, on the happiest day of his life. He wouldn’t be human if he wasn’t a little scared of falling in love again.”

“But he’s not saying that.”

She gave me a look. “Are you kidding? What man is going to volunteer to talk about his emotional baggage when you ask if they’re okay? Remember that episode of Friends where Ross finds out Rachel and Joey are a couple and he’s all ‘I’m fine’ over and over again, but it’s obvious he isn’t?”

Despite everything, I smiled. “Oh yeah.”

“Cole is kind of like Ross here. He’s just working through it. Take a breath, okay?”

I did what she said, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. “Sorry. Maybe you’re right. I guess I’m still learning things about him. I get nervous when he goes quiet. And it’s still hard for me to believe that after all this time, he’s really mine.”

“Get him talking about old man baseball. That’ll perk him right up.”

I burst out laughing. “I bet you’re right.” Then I picked up the scone and took a bite. “Thanks. I feel better.”

Cole and Mariah met me at the bakery, and we strolled up and down the streets of downtown Bellamy Creek, which were all decked out for the holidays. Strands of lights stretched across Main Street. Boughs of evergreens adorned every streetlamp. Wreaths hung on every door. Christmas carols played in every shop.

As we walked along, Cole held my hand, and some of the unease I’d felt earlier dissipated. When people we knew stopped on the street to say hello, he didn’t let go. When we went into a store to look around, he’d show me something that he knew would make me laugh, or drop an arm over my shoulder, and once he even kissed my forehead.

I decided Blair was right, and I was being paranoid. So what if he occasionally seemed a little broody? So what if he didn’t tell me everything that was on his mind? So what if he needed some time to realize that there was no dragon waiting to snatch his happiness away?

What mattered was that I was the one he’d been willing to fight for. That we were together now. That when he looked into his future, he saw me. Us. A family.

I would continue to show him patience, love, and understanding.

I wanted him to feel safe with me.

Twenty-Five

Cole

“Mariah, come on,” I complained Saturday night. “You’ve been sitting between us all day.”

I’d had the day off, and we’d taken Mariah over to a neighboring farm, which offered horse-drawn sleigh rides. She’d wanted to sit between us in the sled, and we’d said of course, the three of us cuddling up beneath a thick wool blanket. Afterward, we’d returned to town for an early supper, and Mariah had requested to sit at the counter of the Bellamy Creek Diner. We’d laughed when she insisted on the counter stool in between us. Back at our house, we were going to watch The Grinch, and once again, she was claiming the couch real estate between us.

“So what?” she asked.

“So I get to sit next to Cheyenne now.” I got her in a gentle headlock and pretended to strangle her.

Mariah squirmed and giggled, tugging at my arms. “No!”

“How about if I paint your nails while we watch, Mariah?” Cheyenne suggested.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go get the polish.”