I dropped my arms, and Mariah darted upstairs. “You know,” I said, getting Cheyenne in a headlock this time, “that didn’t solve the problem.”

“What problem?” she asked, laughing as I squeezed her.

“That I want to be next to you for once. She’s hogging you.” I loosened my grip, and she turned to face me, twining her arms around my waist.

“It’s cute. I don’t mind.”

“I do,” I said gruffly.

“Listen. I feel really lucky that she’s happy about us. I want her to feel included. If it means letting her sit between us, I’m okay with it. It won’t be forever. Soon she’ll be a teenager and she won’t want anything to do with us.”

Groaning, I kissed her temple. “I can’t think about that. I’m going to throw some popcorn in the microwave and grab a beer. Want something to drink?”

“No thanks.”

I went into the kitchen, got the popcorn going, and uncapped a beer. While I waited for the microwave to go off, I listened to Mariah and Cheyenne chatter in the next room. My mom was visiting her sister in Gaylord this weekend, so it was just the three of us.

This is how it would be at the new house if she lived with us, I thought. The three of us home on a snowy Saturday night, Christmas just days away, a perfect winter afternoon behind us. A brand new year ahead of us. It was comfortable, easy, intimate.

So why couldn’t I shake the uneasy feeling that it couldn’t last?

Stop it, I told myself, lifting my beer to my lips. I was determined not to let negative thoughts distract me tonight. More than once Cheyenne had caught me brooding silently over the last week, and I always said it was nothing. I didn’t want her to worry, and sooner or later this stupid nagging fear would loosen its grip on me, wouldn’t it? I just had to tough it out.

“So which color?” I heard Mariah ask from the next room.

“Hmm. I like the darker one,” Cheyenne replied. “More dramatic for Christmas Eve. Think you can make it last until Thursday night?”

“I’ll try,” Mariah said.

Then I heard clicking noises, as if Cheyenne were shaking the polish. “Are you excited for Santa to come?”

“Yes,” Mariah said. “I’m still hoping for a puppy. Daddy says he doesn’t bring animals, but Avery Frankel in my class said that’s a lie because she got a rabbit from Santa last year.”

Cheyenne laughed. “Well . . . good luck.”

“What did you ask him for?”

“A winning lottery ticket.”

“Why?”

“So that I can move out of my mother’s house and get a place of my own,” Cheyenne said, her voice determined. “And rescue a dog.”

“You could move in with us,” Mariah suggested. “Then we could share the dog!”

Cheyenne laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I think you and your dad should make that house all your own.”

“But it’s big enough for you too,” Mariah insisted. “You could even have your own room.”

That made me smile—as if I’d let her sleep anywhere but next to me.

“You’re sweet,” Cheyenne told her. “And I promise to come visit you a lot, how’s that?”

A loud sigh from my daughter. “I guess that’s good.” Then her tone brightened. “Hey, maybe you could buy the house next door!”

Cheyenne burst out laughing. “We’ll see, sweetie. Right now, I couldn’t even afford that doghouse in the yard. Come on, let’s get some paper towels so we don’t make a mess.”

A moment later, they appeared in the kitchen, and I have no idea why my heart chose that moment to fall through the floor but it did. I took one look at Cheyenne in that giant sweater with the floppy arms, and the fuzzy socks and the hat hair and the mascara that had run earlier because she’d laughed so hard she’d cried and was now smudged beneath her eyes—and I knew I loved her so much I never wanted to be without her. This was it for me. She was the one.

My chest grew tight. My breathing was shallow.

I wanted her to live with us. I wanted to put up our own Christmas tree. I wanted to play Santa with her after our kids went to bed and then take her to our own bedroom, undress her, and wrap myself up in her warm, soft body and stay there all night, until our kids came flying into the room in the morning again to wake us up, squealing that Santa had come. I wanted to wash the wedding china with her after Christmas dinner. I wanted the wedding.

I wanted it all. More than that—I could see it all.

The bed that was ours, in a home that we shared, in a life that we’d started together.

The promise of a new forever was unfolding right in front of me.

But promises could be broken.

I started to sweat. My hands tingled, and I had to set my beer bottle on the counter because I was afraid I would drop it.

“We need paper towels,” Mariah announced, going over to the roll to rip some off.

“Hey. You okay?” Cheyenne asked, eyeing me with concern.

No, I wasn’t okay. Not only was I in love with her, I was in love with the future I’d imagined for us—and it could all be destroyed in an instant.

“I’m fine,” I said, clearing my throat. “Sure you don’t want a beer? Let me just get you one.” I turned toward the fridge.

“Okay.” She came over and rubbed my back as I popped the cap off for her, hoping she wouldn’t see my hands tremble. “Sure you’re alright?”

I nodded.

But I wasn’t sure at all.

I was a zombie the rest of the night.

Distracted. Anxious. Two seconds away from a panic attack at all times. The effort to keep it from happening exhausted me.

I couldn’t relax during the movie. I couldn’t keep my hands still. I couldn’t stop my leg from twitching.

Cheyenne knew something was off, but didn’t ask again. And since Mariah was between us, she couldn’t touch me either. But maybe it was better that way. Maybe I shouldn’t depend on her touch to soothe me.

After the movie, I sent Mariah up to bed and told her I’d be back after I walked Cheyenne home.

“But I want Cheyenne to say goodnight too,” she whined.

“No.”

“But it’s not even that late.”

“Not tonight,” I said sharply.

“But Daddy, she always—”

“Enough!” I yelled. “You can’t always get what you want. Now go up and get ready for bed!”

Cheyenne spoke up gently. “Cole, I really don’t mind—”

“I mind.” I cut her off.

Hurt, Mariah hugged Cheyenne and then plodded up the stairs, sniffling. I felt horrible—I rarely raised my voice to her. But it was for her own good. I didn’t want her to get too used to Cheyenne being there to say goodnight to her all the time.

“Ready to go?” I asked her stiffly.

“Yes. Let me just get my coat.”

“I’ll get it.” I grabbed her coat from the closet and held it out so she could slip her arms in. When she was all zipped up, she pulled her hat and gloves from her pocket and tugged them on.

“I’m ready.” She was looking at me kind of like she didn’t know me, and it made me feel like shit.