Page 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

HUDSON

My kitchen is a disaster, but it’s for a good cause.

Operation Christmas Eve Cookies for Santa commenced an hour ago, and Lucy, Madeline, and I can barely get through the recipe without laughing hysterically.

There are rolling pins in the sink and flour covers the floor. Ceramic mixing bowls with raw cookie dough sit on the island, and the oven is slowly preheating. ‘Jingle Bells’ blares from Madeline’s phone, and she signs the lyrics to Lucy who shimmies like she’s dancing.

I don’t care about the clean up, because I swear this is the most alive my kitchen has ever been.

“ We’re going to put the cookies on the baking sheets ,” Madeline tells us, and she hoists Lucy onto the island. “ And get this show rolling .”

Lucy signs something to Madeline that makes her laugh again, and I wish more than anything I was part of their conversation. I’ve been using my notebook, but it’s not the same. It feels like a cop out, and I’m determined to try to pick up on some of the words they frequently use.

“Are y’all making fun of me?” I ask.

“ Lucy wants you to know you have flour in your hair .” Madeline leans over the island and tugs on the strands near my ears. “ She said you look like Frosty the Snowman .”

“It’s her fault. She’s the one who threw a handful in my face.” I offer Lucy the spatula covered in chocolate chips, and she takes it eagerly. “Pretend like you’re not seeing her eat raw cookie dough.”

“ Eating the dough is the best part . Right, Luce? ” Madeline grabs what looks like an ice cream scoop from a drawer and starts to dole out balls of dough onto the baking sheets. “ Which one do you think is going to be Santa’s favorite ?”

Lucy surveys the scene in front of her. I appreciate how she looks at the chocolate chip, the sugar and the peanut butter options before answering. After a few seconds, she points at the bowl full of chocolate chip dough, and I nod in agreement.

“Good choice,” I say, giving her a thumbs-up, and she beams. “Do y’all bake like this every year?”

“We do, but this Christmas is extra special. I didn’t want Lucy to think Santa skipped over our house because we moved. She’s worried she won’t have any presents from him tomorrow morning.”

I crane my neck to make sure Gus and Millie aren’t causing any havoc to the tree. There are already two dozen gifts tucked under the ten-foot fir we brought home last week, and they’re all addressed to Lucy from Madeline.

I have a feeling there will be more there tomorrow.

“How old are kids when they learn Santa isn’t real these days?” I ask, clueless. “I think I was like, nine, when I found out, and I was devastated. Has that changed?”

“That’s a hot topic on the parenting forums.”

“There are parenting forums?”

“Oh, yeah. The drama is hilarious. I was ten when I found out. A kid at school was the one to break the news, so I’m not going to mention anything until Lucy asks. It’s so nice to be carefree, you know? To believe in the magic of the holidays, and I’ll bake cookies every Christmas Eve for as long as I live if it makes her smile.”

Lucy uses her hands to roll a ball of sugar cookie dough and puts it on one of the sheet pans. She and Madeline exchange a few phrases of conversation, and Madeline gestures for me to join them on the other side of the island.

“ Luce wants you to help her make a snowflake cookie ,” Madeline says. “ There are cookie cutters in the pantry . Could you grab them ?”

“A snowflake? Now we’re talking. I’ll be right back.”

I drape a dish towel over my shoulder and open the door to the left of the refrigerator. It used to be empty in here, but with Madeline around, it’s full to the brim.

There are three different kinds of flour in plastic containers and snacks for Lucy’s lunch. Olive oil imported from Greece and some potatoes. I smile when I spot the stack of cookie cutters wedged between a sack of sugar and a dozen different spices. Grabbing them, I shut the door behind me.

Lucy reaches for the metal shapes, and I pass them over. I find a clean rolling pin and put my hands over hers, helping her work out the dough until it’s stretched thin. Guiding her to the edge of the dough so there’s room for the other Christmas designs we have, I press down on her fingers. I smile when she squeals and pulls apart the shape, setting it on the pan.

“ Look at that , peanut . It’s a snowflake . Remember when we played out in the snow last week ?”

That was a fun morning.

Lucy was off from school, and it was her first time seeing snow. We found a little hill in the park to sled down, and she and Madeline made snow angels until their teeth chattered.

I helped them build a snowman, laughing when Gus and Millie barreled through the poor guy and sent his rock eyes flying.

I sort through the shapes and hand Lucy a Christmas tree. She does this one by herself, and I give her a high five when she successfully pulls the excess dough away without ripping the design.

After we make another dozen cookies in the shape of candy canes and big presents, Lucy yawns.

“ We should get to sleep . Santa will be here soon ,” Madeline tells her, and her smile is adorable. “ Say good night to Hudson and the dogs . You’ll see them in the morning .”

With clean hands, a sleepy wave, and a hug where she throws her arms around my neck, Madeline excuses herself to put her daughter to bed. I hum along to Bing Crosby, remembering when my parents used to dance around the kitchen to holiday songs.

“Sorry about the mess,” Madeline says, breaking my daydreams. “Let me finish putting these on the pans so I can pop them in the oven, then I’ll clean up.”

“You do the cookies. I’ll be on clean up duty.” I grab the supplies we’re finished using and dump them in the sink. “And tell me all about the Christmas traditions you and Lucy have. I saw stockings hanging above the fireplace.”

“Did you see the ones we got for you and the dogs?” she asks, and when I glance at her, she smiles. “We put them up while you were at practice this afternoon. There’s nothing in them, but it didn’t feel right to not include you. ”

“I didn’t see that.” My throat feels tight. I can’t wait to check them out. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. As for traditions, we don’t do anything special.” Madeline lowers the volume on her phone. She makes quick work of scooping out the rest of the dough and spreading it out across the different pans. “When we lived in Vegas, my parents would let Lucy open one present on Christmas Eve. We FaceTimed them earlier today, and she got to open the box they sent. That was nice.”

“They’re welcome here, you know. If they ever want to visit. Or if you want some time off to go see them. I can survive a few days by myself.”

“Maybe in the spring. I don’t want to take Lucy out of school for too long. She’s having a blast with her class and teachers. She’s always been a good student, but she’s really excelling in her learning.” Madeline smiles and pops a bite of the chocolate chip dough in her mouth. “Makes me really proud.”

“And how does the Santa thing work? Do you have more gifts to wrap?”

“Only a few. I’m trying to teach her that Santa doesn’t bring the big-ticket items, because it’s not fair if another kid doesn’t get something off their wishlist. I’ll finish wrapping those after this, pop them under the tree, and call it a night.”

“Man.” I scrub the rolling pins under hot water, and she puts the cookies in the oven. “Christmas has totally different vibes when you’re not the kid. Talk about responsibility. It’s kind of bullshit.”

“You’re telling me. Three a.m. on Christmas morning is when I do my best work. Do your teammates get together for Christmas like we did on Thanksgiving? What about a Secret Santa exchange?”

“We spend Christmas on our own, but if someone is alone, they’ll tag along to a family dinner. As for a Secret Santa exchange, we tried that for a few years. When Liam ended up with a pink dildo, Coach put a stop to it.” I grin. “He still doesn’t know I’m the one who gave it to him.”

“Damn, Bombshell. Look at you being funny.”

“Watch it, KG. I’m plenty funny.”

“So you’re not distributing sex toys this year? Talk about a lame holiday.”

I don’t know why, but hearing Madeline say sex toy in my kitchen makes me drop the spoon I’m holding. The loud noise echoes around us, and I cough.

“Tell me we get to eat some of the cookies,” I say, trying to change the subject before I picture her with a sex toy.

“Oh, we eat some of the cookies. It’s the best part of being a parent. We’ll leave some crumbs behind on the plate and an empty glass of milk so Lucy knows Santa stopped in. I’m apologizing in advance for tomorrow, by the way. She loves Christmas. She typically crawls into bed with me around five, but by six, I can’t be held responsible for her enthusiasm.” Madeline pauses, and I realize there’s flour on her nose. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “I hope she likes her gifts.”

“I bet she’s going to love them.” I finish off the last of the dirty dishes and dry my hands. The oven dings, and I toss two potholders her way. “Let’s go, Galloway.”

She laughs and pulls out the trays one by one. “Stop being so damn impatient.”

“They’re cookies,” I draw out. “How can you not be impatient?”

Madeline picks one up off the pan and blows on it. She holds it my way, and her lips pull up into a coy smirk. “Want a taste, hockey guy?”

Fuck , do I ever .

“Yes.” I swallow. “Please.”

She hums and brings the cookie to my mouth. I open my lips and she feeds me the bite, tossing me a full smile when I sigh.

“What do you think?”

I lick my lips and wrap my fingers around her wrist. Her breathing hitches when I tilt my head to the side and take the rest of the cookie in my mouth. My tongue brushes against the tip of her finger, and I swallow. I know I’m playing with fire, but for once, I don’t give a damn.

“Delicious,” I say, and her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink.

“I’m glad you like it,” she answers. When she touches her thumb to the corner of my mouth to wipe away a crumb, I have to hold onto the counter. “I hope you’ll be around to open presents with us tomorrow.”

“Would that be okay? I don’t want to take away from what y’all have planned.”

“Lucy wants you there.” Her eyes meet mine, and her smile is soft. “And so do I.”

“Then that’s where I’ll be.”