Page 13 of All in for Christmas

I tug one out and it’s very fine paper with colored rings and a bull’s-eye in the center. I stare at Henry, and he points down at the toilet bowl. I flip up the lid and seat and drop one in. It floats there waiting in the water, and Henry tugs down his pj pants and trainers.

I cover my eyes and peek through my fingers. “Need help there, Henry?”

“No.” A steady whizz while I fixate on the ceiling.

Whew. I think he’s got it.

I hear the toilet flush.

When I check, he’s got his pj pants back up.

“Great job!”

He grins from ear to ear with pearly white baby teeth.

Toilet targets! Who knew?

Henry climbs up on the toddler stool to wash his chubby hands and I turn on the water. Squirt soap into his fat palm. Pass him a towel. Maybe this training phase won’t be so bad?

Minutes later, we’re back in the kitchen. “All good?” Dean asks.

“All good!” I shoot him a thumbs-up.

“Good job, buddy!” He holds out his hand and Henry slaps it, toddling by. Dean and Eleanor have finished eating. “Want more pancakes?” Dean asks Henry.

“No tanks.”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Paige, you need to finish your breakfast.”

But I couldn’t eat another bite. I stuffed myself with crunchy bacon.

“I wish I could, but I think I’m done.” Only the barest scraps remain on my plate.

There’s not much more to eat unless I lick it clean.

I consider doing that for a fleeting instant.

Bacon crumbles in syrup. Mmm. But no. Need to set the grown-up example.

Dean stands from the table and scoots back Eleanor’s chair so she can hop down. “Okay then! It’s time for our calendar.” Both kids cheer.

A cell phone buzzes on the counter by a group of lined-up cookbooks. “You’ve been getting texts all morning,” Dean says to me. “I think it’s your girlfriends.”

“Oh yeah?” I pick up the phone and a bunch of text message bubbles stare up at me.

KIRSTIN: What a blast.

MIA: Headache. Ugh.

HEATHER: How many pitchers did y’all have?

MIA: Says the one who’s not drinking. You’d think she’d keep count.

Wait. Heather’s not drinking? Are she and Peyton expecting their second kid? How exciting for them and their family.

KIRSTIN: Not as many as when we got those tattoos.

MIA: Truth.

Okay then. Confirmed. It was a wild night after all.

At least for three of us. I hold the phone against my leg, not sure how to respond.

We’ve been so out of touch, I feel intrusive suddenly chiming in.

Even if they believe I was there, I don’t recall a moment of it.

So. I decide to like their individual messages with a thumbs-up.

KIRSTIN: I think Paige is hungover.

MIA: Lol. Same.

What? Way to talk about me like I don’t exist! Although technically… No. I can’t even.

HEATHER: I told you girls to hydrate.

I grab my orange juice off the table and drain the glass.

“That them?” Dean asks, and I look up.

“Oh yeah. Ha. Ha. Just checking in!” I tuck my phone in my hip pocket and Dean hoists Henry in his hands, holding him around his barrel chest and underneath his arms.

“Okay, bud,” he tells Henry, angling him forward toward the advent calendar. “Let’s grab Mr. Snowman and put him on the tree!” He does, and Eleanor claps as Dean sets Henry down.

“Can we build a snowman?” She asks so preciously, it’s hard to say no.

Dean and I glance out the kitchen window at the front yard and then at each other. “What do you think, Mommy?”

“Sounds like fun.” I can’t recall the last time I built a snowman.

In college with Dean? I remember my lunch date with my mom.

“Maybe when I get back?” There’s no sense in not humoring the kids.

I’m bound to wake up in my old life tomorrow.

So. As long as I’m stuck here for the rest of today—and it seems like I am—I might as well make the most of it.

“We’ll build one this afternoon, then,” Dean tells the kids, and they bounce on their heels.

“It will be fun.” His dark eyes shimmer, and I feel a glow.

He’s always had that effect on me. In that way nothing’s changed.

Henry and Eleanor scoot out of the room in their pj’s to watch the rest of their kids’ show.

I wonder about getting them dressed, but that shouldn’t be too hard.

I can sort through the laundry in the master and pick out pieces that fit.

I’m not a total incompetent. I’ve got potty training experience now.

As I help Dean clean up the kitchen, I say quietly, “Dean, when we talked earlier.” I lower my voice further, even though the kids are in the living room. “Why did you think I might be pregnant?” He rinses off the plates and hands them to me, and I load them in the dishwasher.

He leans closer and whispers, “IUDs fail, don’t they?” I release a pent-up breath. An IUD— of course I have one . I’m responsible.

“They can . But that would be rare.”

“Wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it?” He bends down to kiss me, and I can’t keep from going breathy. In this world , where we’re already a family. In the other one, that would come as a definite shock.

“No, I guess not.”

Dean glances out the window over the sink at the street beyond our short drive. “The roads are still icy. You should probably take my jeep, since it’s got four-wheel drive. I’ll go and clean it off for you later. Warm it up. Get it ready to go.” Just as I thought. No more pristine SUV. Sigh.

“That would be great. Thanks.” His jeep doesn’t appear to be new, but it looks younger than what’s apparently my faded hatchback with a dented rear door.

It’s a miracle my car still runs. I wonder vaguely if Dean and I drive to work together.

I want so badly to ask him how we got here.

How we went from Point A to Point Z. What happened to his internship in Puerto Rico? How did he give up that dream?

But I can’t hurt his feelings again, like I did earlier when I seemed to question our future.

It will crush him even more to believe I don’t remember our past. I know what I’ll do.

I’ll ask Mom. Once I know more, I’ll have a better sense about how to approach Dean about our being in an alternate reality.

I have another thought, too. Of course! There are framed photos on the bookshelves in the living room. Maybe I’ll find more pics on my phone?