Page 31

December

Alice

Holiday shopping is one of my favorite things. I know people usually dread it, but I think it’s the perfect time to connect with the community. And fine, maybe it’s also a great time to do some people watching.

This year marks the first time Grand Marquee has ever had a Christkindl market, and I walked the eight blocks over so I didn’t have to deal with the overcrowded parking.

My cheeks are numb from the cold, but my smile is wide as I take in the parking lot of the Downtown Market that’s been transformed into a winter wonderland.

There are over thirty vendors here, from food trucks to jewelry makers to local bath and body shops and more.

The log cabin-style booths all have signs at the top with the business’s name and garlands surrounding it.

In the center of the parking lot stands a massive Christmas tree, lit up in multicolor hues.

I bounce on my feet in giddy anticipation, ready to meet new people and find some gifts for my friends and family. My first stop is the hot cocoa stand, where I order the largest size they have, topped with whipped cream, a toasted marshmallow, and lots of melted chocolate.

I pick up the cutest toys for my nieces, a handmade blanket for Robbie, and custom engraved ornaments for Ash and Eli. When I spot a hand-knit book sleeve, I immediately think of Olivia and how she always complains her books get damaged in the luggage when she travels.

My parents are getting what they always do—a short story.

Ever since I was fifteen and discovered my passion for writing, I shared it with them in the form of a holiday gift.

It’s become a tradition at this point, and I’ve written them lots of different stories—a thriller about a woman getting stranded in a snowstorm, a fluffy romance about childhood friends, and even a fantasy about elves looking for a missing Santa Claus.

This year, it’s a murder mystery set in the 1900s.

The only one I’m struggling to find a gift for is Jordan. He’s always been hard to shop for. He already has everything he wants or needs and it’s impossible to surprise him. Even though I already got him a yoga mat as an inside joke, I do want to find something nice for him.

Something has shifted in our relationship ever since Thanksgiving. At first I thought that maybe I gave in too fast, that I should have held on to my anger. Because what if he does it again? What if he picks up and leaves, again , and leaves me behind? I don’t think I could take it.

I’ve seen him almost daily since that night—at the coffee shop down the street when we leave for work in the morning; at family dinners, which have become more frequent recently; and even at the gym on the first floor of our apartment complex.

He hasn’t asked for more help with his stretches, and part of me is disappointed. Not because I don’t get to put my hands on him again, although that is a huge downside, but because I thought he was making progress in asking for help.

My phone buzzes and I pick up the call.

“Hey, Roro,” I say, smiling at my brother’s old nickname.

“Hey, Al. I need to ask you a favor,” he says, jumping right in.

“What’s up?” I ask distractedly, running my hands over a soft red scarf.

“Can you babysit this weekend? We have a fundraiser for the Blue Line Brigade and it’s all hands on deck,” he says in a rush.

“Robbie, of course. Are you okay though? You sound stressed.”

My brother sighs, and I take a seat on one of the benches that just opened up. “Yeah, this week has been a lot, honestly. I thought Olivia would be home this weekend, but her schedule got mixed up. And—“ He trails off, sighing.

“And what?” I ask, frowning and gripping the phone a little tighter.

“Honestly, I feel like I’m failing,” he eventually says in a sad voice.

“Are you kidding? You’re, like, the best, Robbie. You’re an amazing dad, a great entrepreneur, a great husband. Why would you think you’re failing?”

“I don’t know. It’s just hard when she’s gone for longer periods of time,” he says quietly and my heart sinks. Robbie always puts up such a great front, being there when everyone else needs him, but he struggles asking for help just like the rest of us.

“How about I take Val for the whole weekend? That way you can focus on work and get some rest too.”

“I can’t do that to you. Just a few hours would be?—”

“Please, please, please. You know I don’t see her as often as I want.”

Robbie laughs, though I catch the reluctance in his tone. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll come get her.”

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

When I get to Robbie’s house, I find him napping on the couch and Valerie quietly playing in her living room crib. The cats run up to me, meowing for attention and I smile, giving each one a pet.

“Hey, baby,” I coo at Valerie, picking her up and snuggling her to my chest. She babbles incoherently at me, and I kiss the top of her head.

I step over the pile of toys on the floor and grab a nearby blanket with one hand, draping it over Robbie.

He’s out like a light, and I take a moment to really take him in.

He looks tired, and his dark blond hair is sticking out in all directions.

I sit next to him, rearranging the pillows and propping his head up on a fluffy blue one.

Val is content playing with my hair and a random toy she found, which she has a death grip on, so I turn the TV on low volume and let my mind wander to all the things I could be doing to help my family more.

By the time Robbie wakes up, I have a plan in mind.

I just hope he’s willing to accept the help.

Jordan

The food is precariously close to falling out of my arms, but I manage to readjust at the last second, pressing the button to the third floor with my elbow.

“Wait,” a familiar voice says from the hallway, and I stick a leg out to stop the door from closing.

Alice’s flushed face comes into view as she’s pushing something into the elevator. I peek around the mountain of bags I’m holding and notice she has Val bundled up in her stroller, a variety of luggage dangling from the handles.

“Thanks,” she breathes out, sounding winded.

“Everything okay?” I ask, facing her.

“Yeah, I’m babysitting for the weekend,” she says, peeking down at Val and smiling. The baby giggles and waves her little arm up at Alice and I can’t stop the grin that overtakes my face. Alice is so good with kids, and I’ve imagined more than once what starting a family with her would be like.

My cheeks redden at the thought, and I quickly look away. “I’m babysitting too, for the night,” I say.

“Really?” She perks up at the thought of seeing Katie and Lory, and my stomach does something it hasn’t done in a while—it flutters .

“Yeah, they’re watching a movie right now, I just stepped into the lobby to get the delivery.”

“Uncle of the year,” she sing-songs, stepping closer and peeking at the bags. “Wow, you went all out.”

I laugh, looking at all the pizza, salads, and mac and cheese I ordered, not knowing what the kids like nowadays. “I like to give them options,” I say.

Her stomach growls right as we get to our floor and I hold the elevator door open once more. “Well, if you have any leftovers, you know who to call,” she jokes.

“Why don’t you join us? The girls like hanging out with Val and I have way more food than we all could eat,” I say with as much nonchalance as I can, trying not to show her how much I want her to come over. How badly I want to spend more time with her.

Alice stops in her tracks, and I can see her pondering it. My eyes are drawn to the way her teeth sink into her lower lip, and I wish she were biting me instead. Fuck , I’m jealous of her pretty lip.

After a moment, she nods and gives me a shy smile. “That would be nice, actually.”

“All right then, come in,” I say, grinning as I open the door and hold it for her.

“Aunt Alice,” Katie and Lory exclaim in unison and run up to hug her, fawning over Valerie in the process.

“Wow, no ‘thank you, Uncle Jordan’ for bringing back food?” I tease them, placing the bags down on the kitchen island. As I start opening up the containers, Alice moves to the cupboards, pulling out plates and forks.

“Girls, food is ready! Who wants pizza?” I ask, and they both reply enthusiastically.

“Um, actually,” Alice leans in to whisper, “Lory can’t have tomatoes. She’s been getting rashes from them.”

I look down at her and frown. How did I not know that? Have I not been paying enough attention since I’ve been back?

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” I say, sullen.

“It’s okay. It’s not something super common, but tomato sauce is not the best for her,” Alice says, shrugging one shoulder in a “what can you do” gesture.

I nod and swallow down the disappointment, promising to myself that I’ll do better next time.

“Hey Lory, how does some mac and cheese sound? It’s even got the crumbles I know you like,” I say, picking the six-year-old up and swinging her from side to side.

Her giggles tell me I haven’t completely messed up her dinner, and that she will in fact not throw herself into a fit of crying over the pizza.

“Yummy,” she says once I’m done playing with her.

“That’s right,” I say, and set her on the couch, handing her a plate of food.

When I get back to the counter, Alice is staring down at a pizza box, mouth open like she might ask something.

“Everything okay?” I ask, opening up the box.

She blinks down at the pizza and pins me with her blue gaze. “You got a gluten-free one?”

My cheeks heat and I look down at the thin crust pizza, grabbing a few slices and placing them on a plate. “Yeah,” I mumble.

“For me?” she asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, I was hoping you’d come hang out if pizza was involved,” I say, sliding the plate in front of her and glancing at her face. Is she upset or relieved that I took the liberty?

“Thanks.” She smiles, stepping closer to me and giving me a quick hug. “Thanks for remembering.”

“I remember everything about you,” I whisper into her hair before she pulls away and heads over to the couch.

After a whole marathon of Disney movies, all three girls are asleep. I carry Katie to the bedroom while Alice takes Lory and we tuck them in my bed, closing the door softly behind us.

“I think this is one of the most successful sleepovers yet,” Alice whispers, looking at me over her shoulder.

She changed after dinner and she’s in her softest pajamas, looking adorable and comfortable in my apartment.

Another flash of longing runs through me and it’s so powerful that I stop in my tracks for a moment, closing my eyes tight against the vivid image of her like this every night.

What would it feel like to have this version of her—soft and gentle and soothing—forever?

“You should stay the night,” I blurt out, and she stops walking in front of me. I stop just before barreling into her, placing my hands on her shoulders to steady myself.

“Oh?” she asks, leaning into my chest for the briefest moment. She quickly recovers and turns to face me, and my hands fall back to my sides.

“I just mean, the girls will want to see you in the morning. And I can make breakfast,” I add lamely. Idiot . Why would she spend the night when she can sleep in her own bed across the hall?

“Where would I sleep?” she hedges, looking over at the couch.

“The couch is big enough, I just need to pull it open. I’ll grab some sheets.”

“Um, yeah. Okay,” she says, tucking her hair behind both ears.

“Really?” I ask in a daze. I didn’t actually expect her to say yes.

“Yeah. A sleepover. It will be fun.” She nods quickly, flashing me a small smile. “Plus, if Val wakes up in the middle of the night, I can just let you take care of her.”

I shake my head. “You just don’t want to do the hard work, I see.”

“Hey, kids are exhausting.”

“True. But they’re so cute.”

“Agreed,” she says, looking down at Valerie in her crib.

“Do you want kids some day?” I whisper as I pull the couch out and cover it with sheets.

Alice comes over to help and gives me a questioning look. “Of course. The more the merrier.”

“I think I would want at least three,” I say, surprising even myself.

I’ve never thought much about having kids.

At least not until I retired from hockey and realized that I don’t have much going for me.

Most guys in their early thirties already have a wife and kids, but I was always too focused on my career.

And truthfully, I was always too in love with Alice to even notice anyone else.

“I think you’d be a great dad,” she says softly, laying down on one end of the couch, pulling the blanket we used as cushion on the floor earlier on top of her.

I grab a comforter from the linen closet and cover her with it instead. I think about saying something else—how she’d be a great mom, how I wish for her to have the best in life, even if that’s not me. But when I bend down to whisper it, her eyes are closed and her breathing is even.

She’s asleep.

My hand reaches out and brushes the hair off her forehead. Leaning in, I press a lingering kiss to her warm skin. “I think I’d be even greater with you by my side,” I whisper at her temple.