A Christmas Second Chance

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Snowfall and Secrets

Rita's POV

The sound of clinking forks and the soft crinkle of takeout wrappers fills the kitchen. The warm glow from the pendant light above the table makes everything feel... normal. Too normal.

Henry sits across from me, scarfing down his burger like he hasn’t eaten in days. He catches me watching him and raises an eyebrow. "What? You’ve never seen a man eat before?"

"Not like he’s competing in a speed-eating contest," I shoot back, dipping a fry into ketchup.

"Hey, I’ve been working all day," he says with his mouth half-full. "Some of us don’t get to sit in fancy festival meetings, you know."

"Yeah, real fancy," I mutter. "You missed the part where Mrs. Porter went on a 20-minute rant about the correct shade of red for the holiday banners. Spoiler alert: cranberry red is not the same as ruby red."

Henry snorts, nearly choking on his drink. "I do not miss those meetings."

"Consider yourself lucky," I reply, leaning back in my chair.

Lily pads into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and clutching her stuffed rabbit. "Mommy, is it bedtime yet?" she mumbles, yawning so wide I can see all her tiny teeth.

I glance at the clock. 8:47 PM. "Yep, bedtime, little miss."

"But I’m not sleepy," she whines, dragging her feet.

Henry sets his burger down and turns to her, grinning. "Not sleepy, huh? Wanna bet?"

Her eyes narrow with suspicion. "What kind of bet?"

"Bet you can’t brush your teeth, change into pajamas, and be back down here in five minutes," he says, tapping his watch.

Her face lights up with determination. "Yes, I can!" She bolts up the stairs, little feet thundering like a stampede.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "You’re too good at that."

"Years of babysitting my nephews," he says, picking up his burger again. "Kids love a challenge."

I shake my head, hiding a smile. "Careful, Henry. You’re starting to look useful."

"Starting?" He grins, leaning back in his chair. "I’m a full package, Rita. Useful, charming, and I come with free takeout."

"Don’t forget ‘annoying,’" I add, popping a fry in my mouth.

He laughs, and for a moment, everything feels light. Too light. Like a scene from a life that doesn’t belong to me anymore.

---

20 Minutes Later

Lily’s finally in bed, her curls spread out on the pillow like a messy little halo. I watch her for a second longer than usual, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She looks so peaceful. Untouched by the worries that weigh on me.

Downstairs, Henry is still here. I thought he’d be gone by now, but I hear him moving around in the kitchen, probably cleaning up. He doesn’t have to do that.

I make my way down slowly, arms crossed as I lean against the doorway. Sure enough, he’s rinsing dishes like he owns the place.

"You don’t have to do that, you know," I say.

He glances over his shoulder. "I know. But I’m doing it anyway."

I watch him for a second longer. There’s something about the way he moves, so steady and sure, like he’s been part of this house forever. Like he belongs.

Don’t think like that, Rita. He doesn’t belong here.

"So," he says, his voice lighter now. "What’s the deal with you and Terry these days?"

I freeze. My arms tighten over my chest. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugs, drying his hands on a towel. "Small town, Rita. People talk."

"Well, people should mind their business," I say, sharper than I intended.

Henry raises his hands, palms up. "Hey, I’m just asking. Not trying to pry."

"Yeah, well, it’s personal." I turn away, busying myself with stacking unopened mail on the counter. I know what people say. Poor Rita, couldn’t make it work. What happened to the perfect couple? I’ve heard it all.

"Fair enough," he says quietly. For once, no jokes. No smirks.

Silence fills the kitchen like a thick fog. I shuffle some papers around, knowing I’m not really looking at them.

"You’re doing okay, though?" he asks.

I glance at him, and for some reason, the sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache.

"Yeah," I say, but it sounds too automatic, too fake. I clear my throat. "We’re fine. Lily’s happy, and that’s all that matters."

"That’s not what I asked," he says, his eyes sharp but kind.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling too exposed. I hate that he can see through me like that. "I’m doing the best I can, Henry."

His gaze holds mine for a moment longer than it should. Then he nods. "That’s all anyone can do."

I nod too, pretending that’s enough.

---

Later That Night

I’m curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled up to my chin, flipping channels with one hand and holding my phone in the other. My thumb hovers over the text thread with Terry.

I haven’t texted him since we got here. No updates, no pictures of Lily playing in the snow, nothing. We agreed on clear boundaries after the divorce — co-parent, but keep it simple. Still, there’s this weird part of me that wonders if he even cares.

The wind howls outside, rattling the windowpanes. The soft glow of Christmas lights from the front porch reflects against the glass. Snow drifts in swirls, thick and steady, like it has no plans of stopping.

My phone buzzes in my hand. Unknown number.

Frowning, I hesitate before swiping to answer. "Hello?"

There’s a pause. Nothing but static at first. Then, a low, breathy sound.

"Rita?"

My blood goes cold. I know that voice.

"Terry?" I ask, gripping the phone tighter.

"Yeah," he says. His voice is rough, like he’s been up all night. "I... I didn’t know if I should call."

My heart races, and I stand, pacing the room. "It’s late, Terry. What do you want?"

"I just... I wanted to hear Lily's voice." His words are slow, careful, like he’s afraid of how I’ll react.

"She’s asleep," I say, glancing at the stairs. "You can call her tomorrow."

"Rita, wait," he says quickly, like he’s afraid I’ll hang up. "I’ve been thinking... about everything. About us."

No. Don’t do this, Terry.

"You should be thinking about Lily, not 'us,'" I say firmly, pacing faster. "There is no ‘us.’ You made that clear."

"I know," he says, sighing into the phone. "I just... I messed up, okay? I know that now."

His voice cracks a little, and I hate that it makes my chest hurt.

"You don’t get to do this," I whisper, my voice trembling. "You don’t get to pop back in like nothing happened."

"I’m trying, Rita," he says, and I can hear the frustration. "I’m trying."

"Not hard enough," I snap, hanging up before he can say another word.

I stand there, breathing hard, my heart pounding in my ears. My eyes sting, and I don’t know if it’s from anger or something worse.

The snow keeps falling outside, soft and endless.

I turn off my phone, drop it on the counter, and press my hands against my face. My breath comes out shaky, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t cry, Rita. Don’t you dare cry over him.

But it’s not that easy.

A knock sounds at the door, sharp and sudden. I flinch, my heart jumping into my throat. I glance at the clock. Who’s knocking at 10:45 PM?

Peering through the window, I see him. Henry. His jacket is dusted with snow, and his breath fogs in the cold air.

I open the door, and the icy wind rushes in.

"Henry, what are you doing here?" I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.

He stares at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine like he knows something’s wrong.

"I was driving by," he says, his breath fogging in the air. "Saw your light on. You okay?"

I blink back the tears threatening to spill. "Yeah," I lie, voice barely a whisper.

He tilts his head, frowning. "You sure?"

I shake my head slowly, my throat tight with emotion.

"Come here," he says, stepping forward.

And this time, I do.