Page 23 of Christmas Bubble

My belly rumbles, so I prepare myself another sandwich and eat it in a few bites, downing it with a beer as I stand back. For the first time since I bought the cabin, I can see what it will look like when it’s all finished.

The sense of pride takes me by surprise. I’ve had a long career of feeling proud of my achievements through my players’ success. Whether it’s a team win or a player getting a contract for a bigger team.

I’ve always felt proud of the barely out-of-high school kids who had never been away from their parents but still gave it their all. Going on to become amazing players and outstanding men, giving back to charity and their community.

But this thing in my chest is new, and I like it. Maybe next time my mom asks me if I’ve found my happiness, I can tell her I’ve located some of it.

With renewed energy, I continue to work on the doors until they’re all sanded, and I have a neat row of light-wood doors ready to be stained with a clear varnish.

I put them to one side and brush the sanding dust into the trash before finishing it with the vacuum cleaner.

“Now, this is what I call a productive day. Maybe tomorrow I can take a break from work and walk around the lake. Get some fresh air and maybe stop talking to myself aloud.”

I think I hear a thud, so I turn down the music and hear someone knocking.

“Bubble, how can I help?” I ask even before my door is fully open.

“Aww, you’re using my name,” he says.

“I don’t have much choice since I don’t know your real name.”

He puts his finger to his chin like he’s thinking about it. “Maybe soon. Anyway, how did you know it was me?”

I chuckle. “Could be a lucky guess, or it could be that I don’t know anyone else around here.”

He looks around and points at the cabin on the other side of mine. “Really? Why? Are they like…weird people or something?” he whispers.

“No,” I whisper back. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, how can I help you?”

“You look like you need a shower,” he says.

“Thanks?”

“Sorry, that was rude. I’m bringing you dinner since you refused your nutritious lunch.”

I sigh. “Bubble, I don’t need you to bring me food. I’m more than capable of making my own.”

“Did you have a sandwich for dinner?” he asks, resting one hand on his hip while holding the box with the other.

“Yes, but—”

“I rest my case.”

“Fine, I’ll take it if it makes you happy.”

He thrusts the box in my direction and leaves.

“Sorry, gotta run. Have a job to do.”

I shake my head and go inside.

After a much-needed shower, I inspect the contents of Bubble’s box, and I’m shocked to see a fully prepared meal of grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, and rice. Even though I had my sandwich earlier, I eat every single bite, and it’s delicious.

The early day followed by all the work and a full belly makes me tired, so I clean up and retreat to the bedroom. Maybe I’ll scroll through the sports news on my phone before I sleep.