Chapter 1
962 Words
(Caroline’s POV)
"Caroline, you're going to work yourself to death before midnight even hits." Hailey laughs from across the kitchen island, where she's chopping vegetables for the salad. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she's wearing the apron I gave her last Christmas—the one with little cartoon cats all over it.
I glance up and smile. "Someone has to make sure we actually have food to eat tonight. Samuel won't be home until late, and you know how he gets when there's no proper meal waiting."
"Men," Hailey says, rolling her eyes. But there's something in her voice I can't quite place.
Before I can think too much about it, Charlie's laughter cuts through the air. It's a sound I've learned to treasure—rare and precious, like finding gold in a riverbed. My five-year-old son doesn't laugh often. His autism makes the world a confusing place, full of sounds that hurt and lights that buzz too loud and people who expect things he doesn't understand how to give.
But with Wendy, he laughs.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and lean against the doorway, watching them. They're sitting under the Christmas tree in the living room, its lights casting soft colors across their faces. Charlie is lining up his toy cars in a perfect row—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. Always in rainbow order. Wendy sits beside him, patient as a saint, handing him each car when he reaches for it without looking.
"They're so good together," I say, my voice catching a little. "I was so worried, you know. When the diagnosis came. I thought Charlie would never have friends, or someone to play with him."
Hailey comes to stand beside me, wiping her hands on her apron. "Well, Wendy is hardly a stranger. They've basically grown up together," she says softly. "They've got a bond like that of siblings."
"Charlie really does like her." I watch as my son carefully adjusts the blue car, making sure it's perfectly aligned with the others.
I turn back to Hailey, ready to say something about how lucky we both are to have such sweet kids, but I stop. She's crying. Not sobbing or anything dramatic—just silent tears sliding down her cheeks, leaving wet tracks through the flour dust that's somehow gotten on her face too.
"Hailey?" I reach for her immediately, my hand on her arm. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
She shakes her head, trying to smile through the tears. "I'm sorry. I'm being ridiculous."
"What is this about?" I guide her back into the kitchen, away from the kids. "Talk to me."
She takes a shaky breath, pressing her palms against her eyes like she can push the tears back in. "I'm just—God, Caroline. I'm so grateful for you. For everything you've done for me and Wendy over the years. I don't know what I would've done if Wendy had been born without a father and I didn't have you."
The memory hits me like it always does—Hailey showing up at my door broken and disheveled, mascara running down her cheeks, telling me about the guy who'd gotten her pregnant and then disappeared. How she'd been so scared, so alone. How could I not help her? We'd been friends since high school, survived being orphans together, held each other through every hard thing.
"Hey." I pull her into a hug, feeling her shake against me. "You're my best friend. You're family. Of course I was going to be there for you."
"You took care of me after Wendy was born," she whispers into my shoulder. "You treated her like she was your own. I don't deserve you."
"Stop that." I pull back, holding her by the shoulders. "Hailey, Wendy’s father turning out to be irresponsible isn’t on you. That’s on him. Yes, you made a mistake. You shouldn’t have taken the words of a man at face value. And you paid for that mistake. Don't ever forget that."
She nods, but there's a strange emotion in her eyes I don't recognize. I’ve seen that same look more times than I can count over the years, but could never make any sense of it.
My phone buzzes on the counter, shattering the moment. I grab it, frowning at the screen. "It's my boss. Hold on."
"Caroline?" Martin's voice is tight with stress when I answer. "I'm so sorry to bother you on New Year's Eve, but we have a situation."
I close my eyes. "What is it this time?"
"The printer screwed up the latest batch of children's books. Wrong binding, wrong paper stock—the whole thing's a disaster. We need to catch this before they ship tomorrow, or we're looking at a massive recall."
My stomach sinks. I'm a children's book editor, and this particular batch includes a title I've been working on for eight months. If it goes out wrong, it's my head on the chopping block.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
I hang up and turn to Hailey, already untying my apron. "I have to go to the office. Emergency."
"On New Year's Eve?" She looks shocked. "Caroline, can't someone else—"
"It's my project. My responsibility." I'm already grabbing my coat, my keys. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Samuel should be home soon anyway. Can you keep an eye on Charlie? Just make sure he eats something and gets to bed if I'm not back in time?"
"Of course." Hailey's already moving toward the living room. "Don't worry about anything here. I've got it."
I kiss Charlie goodbye—he barely notices, focused on his cars—and rush out into the cold night.
- Writer
