A Mistletoe Kiss For The Single Dad. Traci Douglass
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Connor walked along ahead of them, oblivious.
“Don’t cross the street by yourself, son,” Nick called. “Wait for us.”
Belle gave him some serious side-eye at the same time his son gave him a perturbed stare.
“He’s eight, right?” she asked.
“Yes.” Nick bristled at her judgmental tone. Fine. Maybe Connor was old enough to start doing things on his own, but Nick wasn’t there yet. He was trying, but his son was growing up—far faster than Nick wanted sometimes—and guilt lingered in his heart. He did his best to be both mom and dad to Connor, but there were only so many hours in a day and it was just the two of them. Besides, Belle had no right to question his parenting style. Still, in an effort to keep the peace he swallowed the words he wanted to say and instead pointed to a redbrick building across the street on the corner. “Diner’s over there.”
“I know where Pat’s is.” Belle’s tone snapped with affront. So much for not arguing. “I’m from here, remember?”
“Figured you forgot. Kind of like your boots.”
She glared at him, her green eyes glittering in the dim streetlight.
The three of them crossed the street and pushed inside the restaurant. Pat Randall—the diner’s proud owner for over thirty years—waved to Nick from behind the counter, oblivious to the tension pulsating around them like a force field. “Hey, Doc. Con.”
A few other patrons were eating a late dinner there too, probably having wandered over after Marlene’s service. Some were his patients, like little Analia Hernandez and her family. She was the same age as Connor and would’ve been in his class at school, but she’d been born with Crouzon syndrome, a rare genetic condition that had caused the bones of her skull to fuse prematurely. There was no mental deficiency associated with the disorder, thank goodness, but the concave shape of her midface did contribute to the little girl’s breathing issues. Still, Analia was happy and confident, always quick with a grin and brimming with curiosity. Analia raised a hand at Connor as they passed their table. “Hey, Con.”
“Hey, Ana.” Con waved back.
They took a table near the far wall and Belle sat gingerly, like the whole place might blow up in her face. Nick sat in the chair beside Connor’s, across from Belle, and raked a hand through his hair, his appetite buried under the uncomfortable feelings stirred by seeing Belle again after all these years. With her living out in California, it had been easier for him to keep her as more of an abstract notion in his head.
A woman, the woman, from his past. Always there, but quarantined, like a dangerous virus that could easily hijack his system. Now, though, with her back in Bayside, even temporarily, he was forced to reconcile the promise he’d made to Vicki with reality. He’d let Belle go back in high school and obviously she’d moved on and done well for herself. She’d left Bayside and him behind eighteen years ago and hadn’t looked back since. He should be happy, overjoyed, well and truly done with it all.
Why then did his heart pinch a little each time he caught sight of Belle now?
Must be stress. Had to be. He’d headed to Marlene’s funeral directly after spending sixteen hours in his clinic and he had another full schedule tomorrow. Maybe Belle had been correct. Maybe they should have put this conversation off until he’d gotten some sleep, had some peace and quiet to get his life in order again.
Except deep down he knew it wouldn’t change anything.
Work. Connor. Home.
Those were his driving forces now.
The only things that mattered.
Dinner with Belle, anything to do with Belle really, shouldn’t be on his radar.
Other than reopening the free clinic one last time. He owed that to Marlene, even if it would be about as much fun as a root canal.
“What can I get you folks to drink?” Pat asked, setting three glasses of water on the table.
Belle perused her choices, frowning. “Do you have anything organic?”
“Uh…we’ve got tea.”
“Is it green?”
“Brown, last time I checked.” Pat chuckled. “Unless it’s gone bad.”
“I’ll stick with water, thank you,” Belle said, her expression dour.
“Sure thing.” Pat jotted something on his little pad, then grinned. “So great to see you again, Belle. I’m so sorry about what happened to Marlene.”
“Thank you, Mr. Randall.”
“Please, call me Pat. We’re like family around here.”
She nodded, then went back to looking at her menu.
Nick cleared his throat. “Con and I will have sodas, Pat.”
“Cherry flavor in those?”
“Of course.” Nick winked at his son.
“Be right back.” Pat walked away, leaving them alone again.
Even beneath the diner’s fluorescent lights, Belle’s auburn hair still glowed like wildfire. A trait she and her aunt had shared. Her mom too, if Nick remembered right. Of course, he’d only been eight too when her parents had died in a car accident. The whole town had turned out for their funeral, as well. He pictured little Belle back then, sitting alone on Marlene’s porch, not crying, not scared, just sort of oddly stoic.
Kind of like she was now.
Belle leaned closer to him, close enough for him to catch a hint of scent—something fresh and floral with a hint of mint. “You don’t let him order his own food either? How controlling of you.”
“Remind me again when you became a parenting expert?” He clasped his hands on the table, all traces of tenderness toward Belle vanishing. Connor’s well-being was his top priority in life. Period. Amen. He’d promised Vicki he’d take care of their son and he intended to keep that vow. He changed subjects to safer territory. “How’s California?”
“Sunny.” Her phone continued buzzing like an angry bee.
“Can’t you just turn that thing off while we eat?” he asked her. “Don’t you have an answering service to field calls when you’re out of the office?”
“Yes.” Her green eyes flashed again with annoyance. “My boss is trying to reach me.”
“Here we are, folks.” Pat returned with their drinks. “What are we having for dinner?”
“Connor and I will split a burger and fries. Cheese, no onion. Medium-well.”
“Great.” Pat wrote down his order. “And for you, Belle?”
“I’ll have the house salad. No cheese or croutons. Dressing on the side. Fat-free Italian. Hold the bread stick too.”
“Or you could just bring her a cardboard box, Pat. It’ll be just as tasty,” Nick said.
The two men chuckled, and she gave them an impassive stare.
“While I always appreciate your culinary opinions, Nick, I’ll stick with what’s healthy.” She jammed her menu back into the holder and gave Pat a cool smile. “And could I have a lemon wedge for my water? Thank you.”
Pat left, shaking his head.
“Are your parents still in town?” Belle asked as she unbelted her expensive coat to reveal the equally expensive tailored suit beneath, all sharp lines and jagged edges. So different from the cute, geeky girl he’d fallen in love with back in high school. Gone were her soft heart and pretty curves, her lilting giggles as they’d dreamed about taking the medical world by storm, like all those TV doctors on their favorite shows.
Nope.