1. Half-Baked Cheer
CHAPTER ONE
HALF-BAKED CHEER
FRANKIE
G rowing up, my family was big on the holidays—matching pajamas, cheesy Hallmark movies, and way too much food. Even after I moved out, I never missed a Christmas with them.
Christmas was my favorite holiday. It was the lights, the music, the warmth in the middle of the cold, but mostly, it was the togetherness—especially after my big brother Tony and I made up.
But that’s a story for a different time.
This year was different. This year, I had my own little family to celebrate with.
And yeah, I may have waited until the very last minute to do it all, but that was okay.
I glanced over at Joey. She was eight months old—almost nine—and the light of my life, with her chubby cheeks and big, curious eyes. She babbled something incomprehensible, and I grinned, pausing mid-hanging of a glittery bunch of garland.
“You like this, too, don’t you sweet girl?” I asked, holding up the faux tree branch. I went to say something else when a flash of orange caught in the corner of my eye.
“Remmy!” I scolded the orange menace as he leaped onto the coffee table. His eyes locked on the ornaments I had laid out like it was his personal treasure trove. He’s been stalking the decorations since I pulled them out this afternoon. It was our yearly battle.
With an expert swipe, he rolled an ornament to the floor, and I swooped low just in time to grab it before it shattered. “Oh no, you don’t, Gremlin.”
Remmy—short for Gremlin, because he definitely earned that name—responded by flicking his tail and jumping onto the couch. He began cleaning a paw like he hadn’t done a thing wrong. I shook my head, setting the ornament back in its place.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
I took a moment to look at the bare tree again.
The tree was not perfect. It looked small in Sebastian’s— our apartment. Plus it was a little crooked, and missing about half the branches from past fights with Remmy.
But it was ours for the time being.
I just couldn’t part with it yet. It was one of the first things I had bought myself when I moved into my old apartment. I still wouldn’t be used to living here for a while, but I was determined to make it feel a little more cozy. A little more like home.
The apartment smelled like pine and cinnamon, thanks to the candle I lit earlier, and there was a gentle hum of Christmas music from the speaker on the counter. It was getting there.
Still, I couldn’t shake the bubble of anxiety in my chest. There was so much to do yet. But between the baby and the mischief maker, I knew it wasn’t happening. I was still going for it, though, determined to make it as festive as possible for my fiancé.
Sebastian should’ve been home. He’d promised earlier in the week that he’d be home tonight, but it was nearly seven. Sebe wasn’t exactly festive. He’d humored me when I mentioned decorating for Christmas, but I could tell the idea didn’t excite him the way it did me. That was okay, though.
I thought maybe, just maybe, this year would be different. That he’d see the magic in it now that we had Joey. But considering he was late, I had doubts. He didn’t have to love it as much as I did. He just had to try, for Joey’s sake—and maybe a little for mine.
Joey’s babbles brought me back from my sad thoughts.
“Just wait until Daddy sees it, huh, JoJo?” I said, glancing at my daughter. She grinned back at me, showing off her two bottom teeth, as if she understood. I smiled and waved at her before getting back to decorating.
I don’t know how long had passed before the sound of the door opening pulled me from my show. I had paused the yule-tide-attack a few hours before, because Sebe had still not come home. I gave up waiting when it was time for Joey’s bath and finished the rest of her nightly routine before laying her down for the night. I decided to eat some of the dinner I had painstakingly worked on and watched a show because otherwise, I was going to scream. Or worse: cry .
“Hey,” a voice called out, as Sebe stepped inside. I turned off the tv and stood, facing him. His dark hair was a mess, probably from running his hands through it all day. He looked beyond tired, his sharp features drawn in that way they got when he had a rough one. He hung up his jacket, dropping his keys on the counter. That’s when I noticed the takeout bag in his hands.
“Hey,” I finally responded, watching as he set the bag down and opened it.
“Sorry I’m late. Luigi’s was closed, so I got Thai Palace instead. Weird, right? They’re usually open until midnight.” He tore into the containers, groaning after a bite of food. My restraint snapped.
I blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Eating?”
“I made dinner. Hours ago. You said you’d be home.” He paused his face stuffing, glancing toward the fridge.
“Oh. Sorry,” he apologized, already turning back to his food. “I’ll take it for lunch tomorrow, okay?”
“Seriously?!” My voice cracked. He seemed to notice how frustrated I was then. He sighed. Fucking sighed.
“Frances, not tonight. Please.”
“Do you even know what tonight is?”
“Friday?”
“The date, Sebastian. What’s the date?”
“The twenty…” He trailed off, pulling out his phone. His eyes widened. “Oh, shit, baby. I forgot.”
Forgot . My heart squeezed painfully.
“Well, you remembered now. Perfect timing,” I said sarcastically, waving toward the tree.
“The tree looks… nice.”
“You think it looks nice ? It’s not even decorated. I was waiting for you.”
“What do you want me to say?” he snapped. “It’s a tree . I’m tired, okay? I was gonna take a shower and head to bed.”
I glared at him, the hope I’d been clinging to all day slipping away.
“You were gonna take a shower and sleep? That’s your big plan for Christmas Eve?”
“Frankie, not everything has to be a production.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“A production?” I repeated, my voice shaking.
“You’re being ridiculous right now.”
“ I’m being ridiculous? For what? Wanting to spend Joey’s first Christmas— our first Christmas as a couple, as a family together?” He gave another sigh.
“I know it’s important to you, babe, but to me, it’s just another day. Like any other.”
“You can’t even pretend to care?”
“Of course, I care,” he sighed, his voice sharper now. “But we can do everything tomorrow. Why does it have to be tonight?”
“Because you promised !” My voice cracked on the last word, and I saw the guilt flicker across his face. But instead of softening, he just shook his head.
“I’m sorry, okay? I forgot.”
“Yeah, you forgot . And I forgot to let you sleep in our bed tonight.” The tears were threatening now, but I refused to let him see them. I turned on my heel, stomping toward the bedroom.
“Frank, don’t?—”
“Merry Christmas, asshole.”
I shut the door behind me before the first tear fell.