eight
Finn
Ashardaswe try to pretend like everything’s back to normal, tonight’s meal is still, hands down, the most awkward Christmas Eve dinner I’ve ever sat through. Dory’s blessing only gets us so far with Terry, who demands I swear upon my life that I never so much as looked at Astrid sideways before that night in September.
Thankfully, the tension starts to dissipate when we all sit down to watch Krampus after dinner. I notice Astrid’s mom keeping a periodic eye on us throughout the movie’s runtime. As frustrating as it is to keep my hands off my girl when she’s sitting right beside me, I force myself to behave. Because, at the end of the day, I want what’s best for Astrid, and what’s best for Astrid is to maintain a good relationship with her living parent. That’s why I walk her to her bedroom door at the end of the night, like I’m dropping her off at home after our prom date.
“I think today could’ve gone a lot worse,” I tell her.
“It almost did.” She wets her lips, a gesture my cock takes personally. “I wish you could stay with me tonight.”
“I wish I could, too. But I promise I’ll be right downstairs, thinking about you all night.”
“All night?”
“Every second.” I kiss the back of her hand like the gentleman I’m trying so hard to be. “I’ll see you in the morning, baby.”
She pouts, then whispers, “Goodnight, Daddy.”
This angel is gonna be my undoing. I pull her in for a goodnight kiss on the cheek that turns into a hug, which is in fact just cover for wanting her to feel how hard I am, and how much I’m going to miss her tonight.
“Goodnight, baby girl. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She enters her room and shuts the door behind her.
On my way downstairs, I find myself at an impasse with Astrid’s mother on her way up to bed.
“Is Astrid asleep?” she asks stiffly.
“Not yet. We just said goodnight.”
“I hope you have no plans to knock on her door tonight.”
“No, ma’am. Though, if I were planning to sneak into her room, I probably wouldn’t knock.”
She squints. “You think that’s funny?”
“Not especially.” If this were any other night, I could get Elaine laughing with an even cornier joke. But things are different now. Who knows if they’ll ever be the same again.
I wait a few beats to see if she’s going to say anything else, then decide it’s time to move on.
“Have a good night,” I tell her.
“Wait,” Elaine says, gripping the banister. “I need you to know that I love my daughter more than anything in the world.”
“You and I have that in common.”
The stairs creak as she shifts her weight. “I also know I’ve failed in my job as a parent, preparing Astrid for real life.”
“Failed seems like a strong word—”
“Let me finish. What I’m saying is that she’s smart, but she may need a little extra help to get where she’s going.”
“Elaine, whatever she needs, I’m there for. You don’t have to worry. Astrid’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“I’m her mother, Finn. I will always worry.”
“And she’s the love of my life.”