Seeing it in person had driven home what had been missing in Cole’s life. There wasn’t a single drawing or pottery project—no evidence of his life outside of hockey. It had made her want to smother him in craft projects and meatloaf and a mudroom with hooks for parkas and bins for boots.
It made her yearn for a life with him she could never have.
As they headed back on 191, the traffic slowed as they neared town. “Would you mind stopping at the Emporium?” she asked. “They sell pre-baked cinnamon rolls, so all we have to do is pop them in the oven on Christmas morning. I want the girls to wake up to that smell, you know? I want them to come racing down the stairs because they know what it means.”
“And what does it mean?”
“That it’s Christmas morning, and they get to open presents. We’ll each take turns, opening one gift at a time so that it won’t be some big feeding frenzy. They can play with their new toys while we’re getting breakfast ready. We’ll have a fire going and carols playing. I just want it to be so special.”
As he turned right onto Main Street, he looked a little lost in thought. “Sounds like you had a great childhood.”
“Oh.” She could see how he’d get that from what she’d just described. “No, that wasn’t…I didn’t grow up like that.” She let out a strained laugh. “I got that from movies.”
He cut her a look.
“My mom’s kind of a bohemian. We didn’t stay in one place long, and she doesn’t really buy into holidays.” Which was a nice way of saying it never crossed her mind to decorate or spend what little money she had on presents.
Hailey might’ve had a handful of holidays in a place of their own, but most of the time, they were guests in someone else’s. Every year was different. Sometimes, they stayed at a friend’s who’d gone home for Christmas, so they had a place to themselves and tried not to make a mess. Only once did they stay with a family.
At eleven, she’d been as eager as the other children and beside herself when she saw the bounty of presents under the tree. But when it came time to open them, there hadn’t been any for her, and she’d been devastated.
She’d sat still as a statue, the family so preoccupied with opening gifts and putting in batteries and assembling things, they hadn’t noticed her. She’d crept to the office where she and her mom shared an inflatable mattress and cried her little heart out.
Come to think of it, that was the year she’d decided she would earn her own money and never live off people again. That was the year shesawher mother, the moment she’d begun to separate from her.
Trevor parked in front of Coco’s Chocolates, the charming green façade and massive bay windows reminding her of a European pastry shop. “Ooh, let’s get some hot chocolate. The girls will love that.”
He parked and unbuckled. “They’re lucky to have you.”
“You know what’s funny? My immediate thought was no, I’m lucky to havethem. Isn’t that crazy? Not even two weeks ago, I was freaking out about taking time away from my job, and now? Giving the girls a special Christmas is my entire reason for living. I think it’s put things into perspective.” Which would explain all these fuzzy feelings she had about family. It had never been a priority before, so this experience just shifted things. “I know this is going to sound corny, but I really think it’s healing the little girl in me who didn’t get to have any special holidays.”
Trevor had his hand on the door release but didn’t open it. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
The interior of the car cooled quickly without the heat. “Is taking the girls to Disneyland not special?”
She wished he’d asked Cole this question. Those two needed a real conversation. “Well, you’re asking a person who didn’t have any traditions growing up, so it’s going to be different for me.”
“My son didn’t have them, either. And I saw the tree he bought standing next to the one you cut with your own two hands, and I…” He sighed. “I get it. I see the difference.”
She was fascinated to discover this whole other side to his personality. He was quiet, gentle, and thoughtful, whereas on social media and in interviews, he was the brightest light in the room, a larger-than-life celebrity known universally for his generous nature and kindness.
In person, he was just so relatable.
“Okay, well, I know I craved stability as a kid.”Pretty sure Cole did, too. “If I could’ve stayed home and made decorations with my mom, baked cookies, and wrapped presents, I would’ve taken that over Disneyland any day. I think those extravagant trips are lost on little kids who just want to be with their parents. Maybe later, when they’re teenagers, they’ll be excited about seeing the world.”
“But not for the holidays.”
She wouldn’t lie when he genuinely wanted to know. “No, not for the holidays. I’m twenty-eight, and I still want those traditions. I could see taking them somewhere the week after, but the holidays are for families being together.”
He nodded, staring straight ahead. “Thank you for your honesty.” And then, he got out of the car.
Since he starred in a wildly popular franchise about a three-hundred-year clan war, he stayed in character year-round. She didn’t know if his publicist wanted him to do it or if it was part of his contract or what, but people loved it.
So, the moment he stepped on the sidewalk in his kilt, knee socks, black boots, and fisherman’s sweater, people flocked to him. In Calamity, celebrities barely got a second glance, but there was something so vital, so fun, about Trevor that he pulled everyone in like a magnet.
Hm, sounds a bit like a hockey player I know.