“Great,” I lied. In truth, I’d lain awake for hours reliving that kiss—and the things Henry had said to me right before it. But I didn’t feel groggy or anything. In fact, I felt pretty damn good. He’d told me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Even if it wasn’t true, I’d loved hearing the words from his lips.

My dad came over and mussed my hair. “It’s so good to have you guys here on Christmas morning. It’s been a while since we’ve had kids in the house.”

“It’s good to be here, Daddy.” I kissed his cheek and poured myself some coffee, wondering what Henry was doing this morning. It made me feel sad to think of him all alone, especially since I knew now that he wanted children. His first Christmas on his own, without even a wife for company, was going to be hard, wasn’t it?

The thought stayed with me as we drank coffee, watched the kids open presents, stuffed ourselves with waffles and eggs and bacon and fruit salad, and cleaned up piles of bows, boxes, and torn wrapping paper. But I wasn’t sure what to do about it—call him? Invite him over? I didn’t even have his number. And I had the feeling that even if I did, he’d refuse to come. He’d say he didn’t want to intrude on family time.

Could I convince him he wouldn’t be an intrusion? Would he even want to come here? Maybe he just wanted to be left alone. Maybe it would just be awkward to be in the same room together today, after what we’d done last night. The thought made me sad—I didn’t want things to be awkward between us. Henry was the closest thing I had to a good friend here. I liked and respected him. He made me laugh. We understood each other.

Had the kiss ruined everything?

When the mess was cleaned up, I went upstairs, showered, and got dressed. Mack was due over with the girls around two, and my dad had promised to take everyone out in the new antique sleigh. We’d had plenty of snow overnight, and the whole farm looked magical, like something inside a snow globe.

Once I was dressed, I told Keaton and Whitney to get upstairs and do the same, then told my mom I was going for a walk.

“Want company?” she asked from the couch, where she was relaxing with another cup of coffee and a new paperback I’d gotten her.

“No, that’s okay. I won’t be long—just need to burn off some calories before Christmas dinner.” It was partly the truth, but I also wanted to see if Henry’s truck was in the lot.

“Sounds good. Bundle up,” she admonished, ever the mom.