Those moments are the highlights of my days, but they’re tempered by the knowledge that just because Poppy wants marriage and kids doesn’t mean she wants them with me. I come with baggage. Granted, it’s adorable baggage, but she would have to become a full-time mother.
And although Poppy loves Marissa, that doesn’t mean she wants to raise her. There’s a tremendous difference, and a six-year-old with a broken heart is not something I want to see. It’s those thoughts that keep the ring in its box. I lost Poppy once. I don’t know if I can handle losing her twice.
Poppy is out of the Jeep, sweeping Marissa into her arms and tickling the little girl until she’s screaming with joy.
I gaze upward with a sigh. “Hey Merry, you’ve apparently given them both signs. Can you give me one? I really want to spend my life with this woman. You know that. You always knew that. But if she says no, I’m not sure I’ll recover from that level of pain.”
“Who are you talking to?” Poppy pokes her head into the garage, startling me from my one-sided conversation.
“No one,” I reply with a forced smile as I enter the house. “How about some hot chocolate and tree trimming?”
“Come see the tree, Poppy,” Marissa states, grabbing her hand and leading her to the great room.
“Wow.”
Wow is an understatement. The tree is a gigantic spruce, taking center stage in the room.
I trail behind them, carrying a tray of hot chocolate. “Marissa picked this tree out.”
“You did so good,” Poppy smiles at Marissa, accepting her cocoa with a smile. “I’m going to sit right here and take some photos of you three decorating.”
Marissa shakes her head. Wrong answer, Poppy. “You have to help. I have the most important job for you.”
Poppy’s face softens as she sets down her cocoa. “What’s that?”
Marissa pulls out the angel topper, placing it in Poppy’s lap. “I want you to put up the angel. It’s for my mom.”
I hold my breath, uncertain how Poppy is going to react. I know it’s hard for her, the fact that I’ve been married. I’ve had a child. All these things we planned together; I’ve already done.
But my beautiful Sunshine Girl surprises me yet again as she smooths the angel’s dress. I see her wide hazel eyes bright with tears as she smiles at Marissa.
Without a word, she reaches out her hand to my little girl, leading her to the tree. Handing her the angel, she scoops her into her arms. “I have a better idea.” Lifting her up, she helps Marissa place the angel, assisting until she sits straight on the bough. “It’s a beautiful angel for a beautiful angel, from her beautiful angel.”
I hold back the tears, but when Marissa throws her arms around Poppy’s neck, a few slide down my cheeks. I hear sniffling to my left and see my mother dabbing her eyes.
“Now it feels like Christmas,” my mother whispers, wrapping her arm around my waist.
She’s right. Ever since Poppy returned to my life, every day feels like Christmas.
We spend the next hour decorating the tree and dancing to Christmas songs. Then we all pile together on the couch as the snow piles up outside.
Marissa insists on sticking near Poppy, her head resting on her shoulder as we admire the twinkling lights. “Where does your family live, Poppy? Are they coming here for Christmas?”
My ears perk up at the question because the truth is, I know nothing about Poppy’s past. She insisted on living in the moment, not delving into the dungeons of yesteryear.
“I don’t have any family.” Poppy meets my gaze and I realize I’m finally going to learn the history of my Sunshine Girl.
“You don’t have family?” Marissa inquires, her nose scrunched in confusion.
Poppy shakes her head, turning Marissa to the side to braid her hair. “No, I’m an orphan.”
“What does that mean?”
“My parents died when I was very little. I don’t remember them.”
“Like me?” Marissa’s eyes widen at the idea that Poppy can understand her so intimately.
I see the tears shining in Poppy’s eyes as she nods. “Just like you. But I didn’t have a wonderful father and grandmother. I grew up in foster homes.”
“What’s a foster home?”
“It’s families that take in kids that have nowhere to go. I lived in four foster homes until I was sixteen. The last family I was with planned to adopt me.”
“Why didn’t they?” I really hope that Marissa isn’t pressing Poppy too hard. My heart hurts with the knowledge of her tragic upbringing.
Poppy pauses, wiping a stray tear. “They died in a car accident. So, they didn’t get a chance.”
Marissa turns back to face Poppy, wiping her tears with her tiny fingers. “I’ll adopt you, Poppy. I’ll be your family.”
With a cry, Poppy pulls Marissa close and I waste no time in embracing them both. My heart breaks for the tragedies that Poppy endured, and now I finally understand why she held those around her at arm’s length.
Everyone she loved left her.
Including me.
As I pull Poppy to my chest, murmuring words of comfort, I know two things for certain.
Poppy will never be alone again, and I’m expanding our family as soon as possible.
I will make up for all the years my beautiful Sunshine Girl spent lonely, filling her days with memories to warm her soul. Just like she’s warmed mine.
I knock on the door to the guest room before letting myself in. “Marissa is passed out. Too much excitement and sugar would be my guess.”
“She’s the most amazing little girl, Dylan.” Poppy is sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking through a box of my family photos. “You have a beautiful family.”
I sit next to her, wrapping my arms around her waist. The loneliness is wafting off her in waves now, and I only pray I can love her enough to mend some of the hurt. “I have a great family. I’m so sorry about your parents. Your foster parents.” I take a deep breath, searching for the strength I need to utter the next line. “I’m so sorry that I left you.”
Poppy gazes down, chewing her lip. “It seems like everyone does. That’s why I don’t talk about it. I’m a mood killer.”
“No, you’re not. I wish I had known. I would have done things differently.”
Her fingers trace my beard before pressing a kiss to my mouth. “Don’t ever say that. Then you wouldn’t have had Merry or Marissa. Everything happens for a reason.”
I’m beyond tempted to get down on one knee and ask her to marry me. Right here, right now.
The only thing holding me back?
Her saying no.
Her not wanting me as much as I want her.
“Can I ask you something?” My entire body cringes at my next question.
“Sure.”
“How far along were you?”
“Thirteen weeks. Thirteen lived up to its reputation, I suppose.”
My foot taps the floor with an erratic rhythm. “And the attack happened a few weeks after I left, right?”
Her eyes widen as she realizes the direction this discussion is heading. “Dylan, please let’s not talk anymore about it.”