Page 65 of Finding Home

“And you think she’ll say yes?”

“I don’t know.” That was the honest answer, and it settled in Cole’s chest with a heavy weight. “I’m not sure of anything where Julie is concerned. She’s cautious. She’s been on her own a long time and she’s built something here that matters to her. I don’t know if she’s ready.” He set his free hand flat on the table. “But I know I am.”

“Then ask her,” James said quietly. “You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Cole placed the ring in the box, closed the lid, and set it carefully beside the photograph. “I’ll let you know what she says.”

After he’d ended the call with James, Cole sat at the table for a long time, studying the framed photograph and his grandmother’s ring.

Asking Julie to be his wife was the most important thing he would ever do. He felt it the way he knew a foundation was solid—not because someone had provided him with the right calculations, but because everything he knew told him it would hold.

Chapter 40

Julie looked around the kitchen. The dishes were done and the leftovers were in the refrigerator.

That was the thing about Christmas dinner. It took all day to prepare and less than forty minutes to eat. And then you were left standing at the sink in a kitchen that smelled of roast vegetables and cinnamon, trying to figure out where the day had gone.

Julie dried her hands on the dish towel and stood in the doorway to the living room.

Nellie was asleep on the rug, her cheek pressed against the folded blanket Maddie had slid beneath her head. She’d fought sleep to the last, and then surrendered between one breath and the next, her small fist curled loosely near her chin.

Daniel, Maddie, and Meg were on the sofa.

The television was on.

“I don’t understand why we’re watching this,” Daniel said. His arms were folded and his jaw was set at a stubborn angle. “It’s Christmas. There are rules about Christmas viewing, and this does not qualify.”

“You’ve seen every spy movie ever made,” Meg told him. “Multiple times.”

“That’s because they’re good.”

“This is also good.”

Daniel gestured at the screen, where the lead actors were standing in the rain in what appeared to be an emotionally significant moment. “They’ve been standing in the rain for four minutes. No one has been chased, captured, or surprised by anything.”

“It’s called emotion, Daniel.”

“It’s called a weather problem,” he grumbled.

Maddie patted his arm without looking away from the screen. It was the comfortable, practiced movement of a woman who’d long since stopped expecting this argument to end differently.

Cole appeared at Julie’s shoulder. She hadn’t heard him come down the hall from where he’d been putting away the last of the serving dishes.

He watched Daniel, then whispered in Julie’s ear, “How long has this been going on?”

“Since the opening credits,” Julie said.

Cole made a quiet sound that might have been sympathy for Daniel or amusement at him. Possibly both.

He lifted his jacket from the hook near the door, and draped it over Julie’s shoulders. “Come outside,” he said. “The sky is doing something worth seeing.”

Julie made sure Nellie was okay. She was still asleep, her chest rising and falling, one sock half-off her foot. She looked at Meg, Daniel, and Maddie, the warm clutter of them filling her living room.

Daniel started to stand. “I’ll come with you.”

Meg reached over without looking and took hold of his sleeve. She’d been keeping an eye on Cole and Julie all evening. She pulled Daniel back down.

He looked at her, and something passed between them. Daniel sat, glanced at the screen, and sighed.