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Katie disappeared back to the entryway, and Jamie listened to her quiet footsteps as she made her way up the stairs. Jamie sent a quick text to Tessa, asking how her Christmas was, but knew she would likely not get an answer for hours. Tessa said at the Gallagher home, Christmas was a sacred day, spent with family, away from phones. After mass, they would all gather and play games, drink tea (or something stronger), and sing carols while her grandfather played piano. It was the kind of Christmas that Jamie longed for.

Her father’s approaching steps made Jamie look up. It was the first time they had seen each other in person since he had triggered her panic attack. They had texted and called, but nothing more.

“Hello,” he said stiffly. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.”

“Katie will be down to finish dinner in a moment. Would you like something to drink?”

“I brought a bottle of wine,” Jamie said. “It’s in the fridge.”

“I suppose one glass won’t hurt. But no more. You have a match tomorrow.”

Jamie waited a moment to see if there was any concern about the recent concussion as well, but it didn’t come. She only watched as her father retrieved two wine glasses from the cabinet. He poured a light portion into each glass beforereturning the bottle to the fridge. He picked up his glass to taste it, licked his lips, and set it back down.

“Not quite cold yet,” he said. “Ice?”

“Sure,” Jamie replied.

“Probably better to water it down, anyway.”

“Right.”

While he dropped two ice cubes into each glass, Katie made her way back in. She checked the oven.

“Looks like everything’s ready,” she said.

“Jamie, help her get the dishes out,” Dexter said.

Jamie nodded and obeyed. Katie thanked her as they placed everything on the stove top. The smells wafted toward Jamie’s nose and her stomach rumbled with anticipation. Katie was a damn good cook. She was the one saving grace about coming to Dexter’s house.

Katie insisted she could plate everything on her own and shooed Jamie and her father to the table to be seated. Once served, Katie wished them a good Christmas, and was gone. Leaving them in painfully awkward silence.

It was always like this. Quiet and cold. Katie’s food warmed Jamie’s belly, but there was no conversation. No lighthearted banter. Nothing to make it feel like a holiday. Dinner seemed to take years because of it.

When they finished, Jamie started to rinse the dishes.

“Leave them. Katie will get to them when she’s back,” Dexter said.

“She won’t be back until the day after tomorrow. You can’t leave them sitting out,” Jamie replied. “I don’t mind cleaning up.”

It gave her something to do other than sit there with her father saying nothing.

He shrugged. “If you want.”

He picked up his wine, downed the remaining swallow that was in his glass, and brought that over to her too.

“Can these go in the dishwasher or are they real crystal?” Jamie asked.

“How should I know?”

“Weren’t these the ones from your wedding?”

“Yes, but that was thirty years ago. I can hardly be expected to remember that.”

“Never mind. I’ll hand wash them to be safe.”

“Fine by me.”