Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
DEREK
L ights on. Check.
Presents under the tree. Check.
Stockings stuffed. Check.
Everything is ready. All I need is to wait for Troy to wake up before we can start our morning traditions of presents and pancakes.
With a warm cup of coffee, I arrange one last present before looking at each ornament on the tree.
The bottom is cluttered with Troy’s ornaments, going no higher on the tree than he can reach. Little pieces of paper that he colored and tied onto strings. Some hand-painted that we made together. Others have his face decorated with tiny balls and glitter.
Each one makes me smile. I have others from when I was a kid that I hung toward the top of the tree.
It might not be fancy, but I love it. Snapshots of the life I’ve made with my son.
“Daddy! Daddy! It’s Christmas!”
The sound of footsteps carry the boisterous voice from the hallway before Troy comes bursting into the living room .
“Merry Christmas, Troy.”
I have just enough time to set my cup of coffee down before Troy throws himself into my arms.
“Merry Christmas! Did Santa come?”
“Take a look.”
I turn him in my arms to look at the Christmas tree with far too many presents sitting beneath it.
“Wow.”
His eyes light up. Boxes of all sizes spill out from under the tree. A few bags with tissue paper sticking out sit on top of them. None of them are wrapped very well—a skill I have never been able to master—but Troy doesn’t seem to mind.
“Open ’em up.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. Troy runs over to the tree and starts opening his presents.
Clothes. Stuffed animals. Games.
Everything on his list, I got it. I went overboard. I know I did. But I can’t help it. Troy is all I have, so if it means spoiling him with presents, so be it.
His happy face is worth everything to me.
“A fire truck? Yes!” Troy tells me, holding up the shiny new vehicle.
The attention on the new toy is short-lived as Troy goes for one of the bigger boxes toward the back of the tree.
“A hockey set?” Troy rips the paper off the package. “I’m going to be the best hockey player. Thanks, Daddy!”
Troy wraps his arms around my neck before tearing into the box. As I sit on the couch, sipping my coffee, I glance around at the mess Troy has made of the living room. Bits of wrapping paper are strewn everywhere as his new toys take up every bit of free space.
A few wrapped boxes are tucked away for when Sutton and Lydia come over next week.
Even though Sutton and her mom are coming over while Lydia goes to her dad’s, I didn’t want her to be left out. I’m hoping that next year, it’s the four of us celebrating together on Christmas morning.
God, I want that to happen more than anything. I love the life Troy and I have. But I want a family with Sutton.
“Here’s your present.” Troy runs up to me with a haphazardly wrapped package. His smile is huge as I pull the paper off and open the box. It’s a ceramic football that is painted in all sorts of various colors. Half of them blend together to create a big, black blob. Troy’s name is scrawled across it in untidy letters.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I pull Troy into my lap and give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll take it with me to school.”
“Grandma helped me make it.”
“You did great, bud.”
Troy hops out of my lap and goes back to his new toys. I hold the small football in my hand.
Out of everything I’ve done in my life, Troy is the best thing to have ever happened to me. I never throw out anything he makes me. A tiny football shouldn’t make me so happy, but it does.
Because I love my kid more than anything.
My thoughts are interrupted when the doorbell rings, echoing through the house.
“Can I answer?”
I ruffle Troy’s hair. “Why don’t you set up the goals and we can start shooting the puck when you’re done? Then I’ll make us our pancakes.”
“Yes!”
As he sets his new fire truck down to open the hockey set, I head to the front door and pull it open. Ice slides down my stomach as I take in the person standing in front of me.
“Missy. What are you doing here?”
I step outside and pull the door shut behind me .
The overly tanned woman with bleached-blonde hair is wearing too much makeup for Christmas morning. Her shirt does nothing to hide her cleavage.
“What, I can’t come see my son on Christmas?”
“You haven’t seen him in over a year, Missy,” I fire back.
Missy snaps the gum in her mouth and crosses her arms. Long, gold earrings weigh down her ears. How did I ever find this woman attractive?
“I was in town, Derek. I’m allowed to see Troy.”
“It’s been a year. Why today?”
I only have one thought as to why she’s here. She must have run out of money.
I put as much distance as I could between me and Missy once Troy was born. She was always in and out of our life and I hated it.
She never wanted to be a mother. I didn’t have plans on being a father, but when the nurse put Troy in my arms, everything changed. I didn’t want the lifestyle I was so used to living.
I didn’t want the jersey chasers like Missy in my son’s life.
“I miss him, Derek. You can understand that, right?”
I shake my head, crossing my arms. “No. Because I didn’t walk out on my son.”
Missy rolls her blue eyes at me. “It’s Christmas. Are you really not going to let me see him?”
“Daddy. Can we play hockey now?” Troy peeks his head out the door, and I hate the reaction it brings out in me.
Damn it. I wasn’t going to let Missy see him. But now she’s down on her knees and holding her arms out to him.
“Hi, sweetheart. Give your mom a hug.”
Troy slides behind me, holding on to my legs with his tiny arms.
Missy scoffs, standing up and turning a fiery look toward me. “You turned him against his own mother? ”
“No, Missy. He doesn’t know you.” I reach behind me and squeeze Troy’s shoulder. “He hasn’t seen you in a year.”
“You keep saying that.” Another snap of her gum. “Why can’t I see him now?”
I scrub a hand over my face before lowering my voice. “Look, Missy. If you want to see him, text me. I can figure something out. But not today. Not when you ambush him.”
“This isn’t an ambush, Derek.”
Fucking feels like one. But I don’t tell her that.
“Then if you really want to see him, text me and we’ll work it out.”
Not before I talk to my lawyer and figure out what rights this woman has.
“Fine.” Her voice is placating, but I don’t know how long that will keep. She turns her attention back to our son. “I’ll see you soon, baby, okay?”
Troy buries his face in the back of my legs. It causes Missy to fire one last hard look at me before turning on her high heels and walking down the path.
I heft Troy into my arms and head back inside.
“Was that really my mommy?” Troy asks.
“It was. Do you remember her?”
There’s no sense in lying to him. I never have. I’m not about to start now.
“No.”
Troy slides out of my arms and runs to get the hockey sticks sitting on the floor. All of the presents and wrapping paper are pushed under the tree. Two goals are sitting on opposite ends of the living room with a small puck in the middle.
“Would you like to see her?”
Troy shrugs a shoulder before handing me the stick. “Can we play hockey now?”
“Absolutely. ”
Thank God for kids and their short memories. All Troy wants now is to play with the new hockey set I got him.
For him, it’s the best Christmas present ever.
Me?
I just got the worst Christmas present ever.
Troy’s mom walking back into our lives.
Merry fucking Christmas.