By the time we dress and leave the storage closet, it’s after one in the morning.

“Shit,” I say. “It got late really fast. My dad’s gonna be worried about me.”

“Yeah, my mom’s probably wondering where I am too.”

“Okay, well,” I bite my bottom lip. “I’m going to get a cab then.”

Bradley nods, but hesitates before speaking “Can I see you again, CeeCee?”

“I can’t think about starting something with you until I get through the next two days with my father. I need to focus on my family today.”

My mom died a year ago and I haven’t seen my dad since then he sold their house. He may be a crying mess this first Christmas alone, understandably.

“Maybe I’ll see you at your new bar?”

He nods, not pushing me -- and I respect that; it would be easy to ask for my number, but Bradley seems to understand I need to be fully present for my family.

He leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. But I can’t leave it just like just that. It is Christmas after all. I turned my head, his lips brushed against mine. And we kiss again.

This time it isn’t ravenous. This time it is passionate and sweet. This time it is gentle and holding the promise of more to come.

“I need to use the restroom before I head down to the cabs myself. Do you want to wait and I can walk you out?” Bradley asks.

“No, I really need to get going,” I tell him. And I mean it. I know the longer we drag this out, the more conflicted I’ll feel about leaving this unexpected stranger. “But I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.”

He nods, giving me a confident smile, and I walk away.

In the cab, I give my driver the address to my dad’s place. He moved out of the house he shared with my mom a few months ago, and put all of my mom’s things in a storage unit, which is something I’m going to have to deal with this weekend. I hope that his new home will be a good start for him without the pain of so many memories surrounding him.

He is still young, barely fifty. He has a lot of life left and I want him to be happy.

The cab driver pulls up to a suburban neighborhood and I’m a little surprised. I thought my dad mentioned downsizing, but it seems that he has moved into a place about the same size the place my mom and him had.

I’m even more surprised to see Christmas lights hanging on the gutters and a decorated Christmas tree through the living room window.

I knock on the door, anxious to see my dad. When he opens the door, a rush of emotions covers me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him.

“CeeCee,” Dad says, pulling me into a hug.

“Hey, daddy,” I tell him. “It’s so good to see you.”

I step inside his place, setting my bag in the foyer, looking around confused.

“This place seems like more than what you talked about wanting.”

“I tried to send you some pictures of it on my phone, but this damn smart phone is too complicated. I need you to give me a tutorial.”

“Dad,” I laugh. “You seriously don’t know how to text message a photograph?”

He shrugs, smiling. “Truth is, I wanted you to see it in person. Sometimes things can be misunderstood when you aren’t face-to-face.”

That when I notice we aren’t alone. Someone else is in this house.

“CeeCee,” he begins. “I didn’t want to say it over the phone....”

“You moved in with someone?” My eyes widen in surprise, but also grateful to know my dad isn’t all alone for the holidays. When I suggested Match.com a few months ago, he laughed it off. Maybe he didn’t laugh for long.

I’ve read the statistics; it’s very common for men to remarry quickly after being widowed. I’ve wanted my dad to find someone.

But this is a bit of whiplash.

“Are you guys married?” I ask seeing the ring on her finger.

“Not yet, we wanted everyone to meet.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“We wanted it to be a Christmas surprise. CeeCee, this is Shelly.”

Shelly smiles at me, warm and friendly. While she isn’t Mom, she does reach out and give me a hug, and when I look up at my father, he is beaming.

All my fears of my dad being all alone and heartbroken disappear, and relief washes over me. He looks happy, which is all I’d ever hope for him, especially at Christmas.

“Congratulations,” I tell them. “This is quite the Christmas surprise.”

Just then another cab pulls up to the house. With the front door still open, I turn and look to see who is here.

A man walks toward the house but it’s so dark I can’t make out his face

“Oh, my son is here, I can’t wait for you to meet him,” Shelly says walking out the front door with open arms.

My mouth falls open, and I wonder when the hell my life became a romance novel.

My mountain man is here.

What the Merry Christmas?