Page 27 of Hampton Holiday Collective
“I mean, that’s all I am these days. Cory’s working twenty-four seven to support and fuckingsave the livesof at-risk LGBTQ youth, and what am I doing? Getting Stella ready for school. Taking Matty to gymnastics and preschool and art class. Waiting in the damn parent pickup line for a solid five to six hours a week.”
“What about work?” she challenges.
I scoff in spite of my successful business endeavors. “The bar and the restaurant run on their own. They don’t need me there—my managers have it covered. The staff are all fifteen or twenty years younger than me now anyway. I may sign the checks, but I don’t belong there anymore.”
Ready to move on from this topic, I take a determined step forward, which she quickly matches so we’re once again walking side by side.
Vulnerably—because this is Tori, and she’s been a safe place for me since we were kids—I work through what’s at the heart of my frustration. “Cory has this vibrant, important career, and he’sneededthere.”
“He runs an organization thatyouhelped fund,” Tori reminds me, hooking her arm through mine and pulling me closer.
“True. But their advancement team is solid now, and they’ve been operating on their own annual budget for almost three years. I’m obsolete.”
She scoffs but lets me continue.
“I take care of the kids. Pick up groceries. Schedule appointments and make play dates. Like I said: I’m just a dad.”
I stare straight ahead, focused on the gray, overcast sky. She lets me stew in my self-pity. Which isn’t like Tori at all. I let the moment shroud me in comfort as we walk silently side by side.
“Your dad was just a dad,” she finally declares.
I shudder at the mention of Joe Whitely. She doesn’t harp on him, though. She keeps going.
“Even though he tried his best, my dad was also just a dad. And although Rhett’s too kind to say it, his dad was just a dad.”
I prickle at the idea of being in the same category as any of those men. I want to be so much more—I want to do better by my kids than our fathers did for us.
“You arenotjust a dad, Jacob Vargo. You’re a caregiver. A role model. A boo-boo-kisser. A pretty decent Blippi impersonator. A phenomenal husband. A caring, selfless partner.
“You pour yourself into being there for your family—in supporting them and building them up. Your businesses and Better Yet are rock solid because of you.Youare the very foundation for so many people and so many things.”
She doesn’t give me time to protest.
“Stella and Matty will never wonder if they’re loved. They’llneverknow the insecurity of feeling alone in this world. You love so hard, and your love is so cherished. You areso much morethan just a dad.”
I gulp down a surge of emotion and examine the ground in front of me, feeling equally scolded and inspired.
“Well, when you put it that way…”
She hugs my arm and rests her head on my shoulder. We come to a stop then, turning to the lake and watching as the clouds transform from soot to charcoal. It’ll be dark soon. But the cabin will be full of light and life tonight.
It’s Christmas Eve. A night I’ve been planning for and looking forward to for months.
This exact moment is still hard, yes—where I’m at right now is nowhere near where I thought I’d end up in life. But Tori’s right: what I have now is so much more beautiful than anything I ever thought I deserved. This moment might be tough, but it’s just one string in the tapestry I’m damn proud to have sewn together for myself and my family.
The white puffs of our exhalations mingle for a few more breaths before Tori speaks again. “Let’s head back. What still needs to be done for tomorrow?”
Tomorrow is Christmas. And it’s going to be fan-fucking-tastic.
“Not much. Everything’s wrapped, labeled, and sorted. I’ve got their special Santa note ready to go, and the stockings are filled, so they just need to be hung up. I have a personalized video message from Santa set to come through my email after dinner. We just need to arrange everything under the tree once the kids are in bed.”
Tori snorts. “‘Just a dad,’my ass.”
I smirk to myself as a lightness I haven’t felt in weeks washes through me.
“Thanks for being a brat and forcing me on this walk.”
She hums contently, then hugs my arm again. “This is what we do. Lift each other up. Pull each other forward. From darkness to light, for the rest of our lives. You know I’m always here for you, rowdy boy.”