Page 42 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas

“No problem, big man. Want me to shut the door while you finish waking up?”

He shook his head. “You can just bring my chair around, if that’s okay?” Although he sounded much more awake, which would make it easier to get him out of the car and into the house, I knew he’d pass out again as soon as he was in bed.

“Coming right up!”

Leaving the door open like he asked, I went around the back and took the wheelchair handles from Remy. He seemed to be deep in thought. I raised my eyebrow, a silent question if everything was all right, but he just nodded and waved me on.

The silent communication felt sonormal.After so much helter-skelter, the simple things really stood out to me.

With a warm buzz in my chest, I circled around the van. Addy and Max were both out of the car, the open backpack on the ground between them.

“What’s up?” I asked, sensing there was something important going on.

“I brought some things,” Max said, looking at Remy just behind me. “I brought this for you to read to Eva at bedtime. And for Addy to overhear but pretend that she isn’t listening.”

“Uncalled for,” Addy objected without any real heat to it.

“Don’t worry, you’re not losing any aura. Sometimes it’s nice to listen.” Max returned his attention to Remy and handed over the book.

A strange expression flitted over Remy’s face. “It’s about bears,” he said, his tone undecipherable.

“Yeah, Eva likes bears.”

“Bears!” Eva confirmed, holding her hands out for the book. “All the best people I know are bears.”

“That’s fair,” I replied. “A lot of the very best people I know are cats.”

Sometimes, you needed to correct a kid when they were being silly, and other times it was best to let a kid be a kid and meet them where they were at.

“It’s the story behind Winnie the Pooh,” Max continued. “I figured since bears are Eva’s favorite animal and she likes the way people tell stories sometimes more than the stories, that it would be lit.”

“Lit?” Addy said, waggling her eyebrows. “As inliterature?”

Her and Max dissolved into giggles at the (un?)intentional pun.

I rolled my eyes. “And you make fun ofmefor my mom jokes.”

“And my dad jokes!” Remy added in. His surprise over the book had vanished. Maybe he was just shocked that my son already had both his daughters pegged so well. I was certainly a bit sideswiped myself, but in a good way.

“Yeah, but Max’s are funny,” Addy said nonchalantly, andow,that one smarted.

“Don’t be mean,” Max countered, joshing her arm. “Negative rizz.”

“Heaven forbid.”

Holy crap, the sibling energy wasreal.

“Thank you for the lovely evening,” Max said, instead of engaging, which was quite funny to watch. These two got each other in a way I couldn’t have predicted. “Merriest Christmas to you, Mr. Remy.” My son extended his hand for a shake. Maybe it was a silly thing to be proud of, but I loved the young man Max was turning into.

“Merriest Christmas right back at you,” Remy said, and good God, when he beamed at Max, my stomach somersaulted. “A handshake feels a little formal. Would you be comfortable with a hug?”

“Yeah!”

If happiness was a drug, I would be absolutelyflyingat the moment. It really felt like the holiday cheer was surrounding us, spilling over and filling the world with a little more light than there had been before.

“We’ll all hang out again after you get spoiled rotten this Christmas with the fam,” Remy said, repeating the idea I had subtly shut down earlier. “You and the girls can all show off your toys and share. Maybe even exchange books when you’re done with them, because I’m sure you’re all gonna beloaded.”

I winced. I got the impression that Remy always meant well, but there were some things he just didn’tgetabout being broke. Granted, being broke didn’t always mean the rest of the family was, but Max and I didn’thaveany other family—no fat aunties with lovely red cheeks and the softest hugs; no overbearing uncles who insisted on handing down different woodworking skills to their nieces and nephews; no grandpas; no grandmas; no cousins. It was just Max and me, and that was how it always had been.