“I…um…”
I catch Cassie’s eyes in the mirror again. “Let’s wait and see what’s in the fridge when we get home.”
“Why are you two acting so weird?” Rachel asks curiously, cautiously.
“We’re not.”
For a brief second she looks away, but not before I catch the concern on her face. Wanting to lighten her mood, I redirect the conversation. “So you must feel relieved now that Christmas break is here.”
“We’re getting our tree tomorrow,” Cassie yells out from the back seat. “We’re cutting it down ourselves.”
“That’s nice.”
“We had to wait a long time this year,” Cassie announces.
“Oh, why is that?” Rachel asks.
“Cassie,” I say, a little warning in my voice. I don’t want her to spill the reason we’ve been waiting. She puffs her cheeks out again and I glance at Rachel, catch that worried look again.
“It was a timing thing,” I explain.
“Oh, I see.” She folds her hand on her lap and stares straight ahead.
“Daddy, it’s snowing,” Cassie says, and I smile as I flick on the wipers to wash away the few flakes. This night couldn’t be any more perfect.
Rachel is acting a little strange when we reach home. She climbs from the car and looks from my front door to hers, like she’s debating on which direction to go. I give her a little nudge. She’s been with us for over a month now. I have no idea why she would ever want to step back into her party house, and I’ll ask her what’s going on later when I sit her down for a talk, but for now, Cassie is going to burst from her secrets if we don’t get inside.
I scoop Cassie up, grab Rachel’s hand and hurry up the front steps. I unlock the door, and the second we step inside, Cassie yells, “Surprise.”
I laugh at that. The poor kid has been doing so good, I can’t blame her for not being able to hold it for another second.
“What’s going on?” Rachel asks as I flick the lights on. The scent of sugar cookies reaches our nostrils and Rachel breathes in deep. “You baked?”
“We baked,” Cassie says, and I set her down. She grabs Rachel’s hand. “Come on.”
I follow behind as Cassie ushers Rachel down the hall and into the kitchen. When Rachel enters, she goes perfectly still. I step up behind her, put my mouth to her ear.
“Happy birthday, Rach.”
She takes in the table set for three. Yeah, I had to read up on how to properly set a table, but Rachel is so worth the effort, but it will never make up for the things my daughter is learning from her.
She spins to face me, and blinks rapidly, but I see the water in her eyes. “This is for me?”
“For your birthday.”
“It’s not until tomorrow.”
“But we wanted to celebrate early.”
“Why?”
Because I couldn’t wait one more minute to tell her how I feel and ask her to stay here with us both permanently.
“It’s a timing thing,” I say without any further explanation.
She pinches her lips tight and turns from us. “You made my favorite sugar cookies.”
“Not sure if they’re the same recipe as your mom’s, but we tried. And there is cake in the fridge in case we messed up.”
Cassie giggles at that. “We made lasagna, too.”
“My favorite,” she says quietly.
“I know,” I murmur from behind.
“How did you know?”
“There is a lot I know, Rachel, and we need to talk after, okay?”
Before she can respond, Cassie grabs a chair and pulls it out. “Sit, Rachel.”
I walk around Rachel and wave my hand. “For the lady,” I say and she grins as she lowers herself. “Cassie and I will be serving you tonight.”
Cassie grabs the bowl with the rolls and places them on the table, and I fill three wine glasses. Two with white wine, and one with apple juice. Rachel is quiet as I fill our plates with food, and set them down.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I can’t believe you two sneaks did this.” Cassie laughs. “Is this why you’ve been going out twice a week?”
“Nope,” Cassie says. “Daddy, can we? Can we?” she says, her voice getting higher and higher.
“Yeah, sure, Cassie. You’ve waited long enough.”
Cassie squeals, darts into the other room and comes back with a poorly wrapped present for Rachel.
“Cassie, this is amazing. Did you wrap this?” she asks.
“Ah, no I did,” I say and Rachel laughs.
“Good job, Jaxon,” she teases, her voice light and playful like she’s talking to a puppy who’d just been house-broken.
“Open it!” Cassie squeals.
“Okay, okay.” She tears into the package, and my heart lodges in my throat when I see the wide-eyed, glassy way Rachel is staring at the gift.
“We made them,” Cassie says, but I’m guessing she doesn’t need to tell Rachel that, judging by the mismatched badly knitted pair of mittens in her hands.
“Ohmigod,” she says on a sob. “I…I…” she begins and swallows like she can’t get the words out. “This is what you guys have been doing?”
“Aunt Marissa taught us,” Cassie says.
“What did you think we were doing?” I ask.
“Not this,” she says, and I laugh as she shoots my answer back at me. But there is something in her expression that alarms me. After all this time, does she not trust me? I have to be reading her wrong because the Rachel that has blossomed under my roof does trust me. Right?
“Seriously, Rachel, what did you think we were doing?”
She opens her mouth and closes it again. Her shoulders shrug. “Nothing, I guess.”
“We need to talk,” I say softly.
She nods. “You said that.”
“Try them on,” Cassie says.
Rachel sniffs, tugs on the mitts and holds her hands out. “They are perfect. They will keep me soooo warm. Thank you so much.” She hugs Cassie and this time I’m the one fighting to keep my shit together.
“Let’s eat,” I say and Cassie climbs into the chair. Rachel takes a sip of her wine, but her hands are a bit shaky. Not only that, as Cassie fills us in
