“Ultimately, I think that’s your choice as her father. You know her better than anyone. I feel like it would be better to wait until she’s older. But really, it’s your call.”
He went quiet for a long time before he spoke again. “What about you? Won’t it be difficult for you to not know if I put off telling her?”
“Sometimes a difficult thing is also the right thing to do.”
Over the next two hours, we debated all the pros and cons of telling her now or in the future. I shared my honest opinions, and Sebastian listened and told me all his fears. One thing was for sure—I didn’t envy him for having to make such a tough decision. The hardest questions are always the ones that don’t have a wrong or a right answer.
Eventually, he shook his head. “We’ll put the envelope in my safety-deposit box tomorrow. I don’t know when we should tell her, maybe when she’s eighteen . . . I’m not really sure. I guess we’ll figure out when the time is right when it’s time. At least I hope so.”
I smiled. “Yeah. I think we will know.”
“But I want to discuss something else. I hate to be morbid, but one thing the both of us have learned is that life changes in the blink of an eye. If something happens to me, and you’re her mother . . . she should be with you, Sadie. Right now, my will has custody going to Macie.”
“Oh wow. Okay. Yeah, I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I think we should go to my lawyer and get a consult on how it should be handled.”
“That makes sense.”
We looked into each other’s eyes for a long time. “Well, I guess it’s settled, then,” I said.
Sebastian smiled. “I guess so.”
I took a deep breath in, and my shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. He cupped my cheeks.
“I don’t know if it’s fate or a series of crazy coincidences that brought us together. But whatever led me to you isn’t as important as what will keep you here. I love you with all my heart, Sadie.”
“I love you, too.”
He smiled. “Good. Now. Umdrehen.”
“Umdrehen?” My brows furrowed. “Roll over?”
Sebastian did some stealth move and I went from sitting up to flat on my back.
His eyes twinkled. “You know, deciding not to open that envelope until years from now works in my favor in another way.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“It’ll give you a reason to stick around and find out the answer.”
I smiled. “You mean another reason to stick around.”
He seemed genuinely confused. “What’s the first reason?”
“You. I never needed any other.”CHAPTER 30
SADIE
Four weeks later
“Coffee?” Devin sashayed into my office and plopped down two rubber-banded stacks of mail onto my desk. Each had to be three inches thick. Even more letters than yesterday.
I looked down at the piles. “I think I need caffeine for this. Can you grab me my usual, a grande iced, sugar-free vanilla latte with soy milk?”
“Yup. One cup of no-fun coming up.”
I went into my desk drawer and pulled out my wallet. Devin held up her hand. “Nope. It’s my turn. I’ll be back in a bit. Put aside the nuttiest letters for me to read.”
I laughed. “Always.”
Two days ago, the magazine had run a snippet stating that the Holiday Wishes feature would be starting back up next week. I couldn’t believe how much mail I’d received in only forty-eight hours. One of our interns usually helped sort through the letters. She’d pull out the ones she found interesting for consideration, but I also liked to rummage through and open a few myself. Sometimes it was random, maybe the first few letters on the top of the pile, and other times I’d pick by the last name listed on the return address or an interesting place that the person lived. Even though the magazine was only distributed in print in the US, I’d always get some readers from across the globe. Yesterday I’d picked Janice Woodcock because, well, who wouldn’t be curious what else a woman with that last name could possibly need for Christmas? I also picked a person who lived in Bacon, Indiana. Because, well . . . bacon.
I sat back in my chair, took the rubber band off one of the bundles, and started to shuffle through today’s letters. Scanning the names and addresses, nothing seemed to jump out at me, until I got to one particular envelope and froze.
B. Maxwell.
Holy shit. Birdie wrote to Santa again?
I couldn’t rip the letter open fast enough.
Dear Santa,
I’m not sure if you’ll remember me or not, but my name is Birdie Maxwell. I wrote to you a few months ago and asked you to bring my dad and me some stuff. Don’t worry, I’m not asking for more already. I have everything I need. But here’s the thing: I don’t think you’re real anymore. It wasn’t too hard to figure out.