Chapter 1 - Hayes
HAYES
It had been a little over two years since Della and I started dating, and all the pink on the walls was starting to rub off on me—clearly—because at that moment, she had us dressed in matching Christmas sweaters that were pink with a white, smiling snowman on the front.
But only because she could find one in Chopper’s size. And because I agreed.
Don’t tell anyone this, but I kind of liked being clearly labeled as hers. I was the only one who got the title, after all.
We had worked all morning decorating the house even more for the hot cocoa bomb party we were having with our families that day.
There were indoor string lights shaped like snowmen, an obnoxiously festive tablecloth on the main table, and an extra folding table in the living room.
On the kitchen counters, there was a hot cocoa bomb station where Della had laid out dozens of the things with different designs and flavors.
Although, she told me she couldn’t find one with mint flavoring.
I was half ready to start a competing hot cocoa bomb company because it was bullshit not to include the best flavor, but now wasn’t the time to think of that.
My dad, my brothers, their wives, their kids, and Della’s parents were all coming over in just about ten minutes.
If the Hayes from two years ago could’ve seen this, he would’ve thought he’d gotten a lobotomy.
Maybe that’s just what happens when you get married.
(Just kidding.) It was more like I grew more of a brain, thanks to Della. Was that even possible?
Anyway, we also had a giant insulated jug of heated milk—and several thermoses with milk alternatives—because some people, for whatever reason, thought 2% wasn’t good enough.
Della was still wearing her Christmas apron because she wanted to make her special sourdough sugar cookies for the event. The things didn’t look like the sugar cookies you’d find at the store, but they actually tasted pretty good.
I walked over to her and gave her a hug, wrapping my arms around her curvy waist and kissing her as I fiddled with the tie to her apron. “Time to take this off. So all our guests can see our matching sweaters and tease me endlessly.”
She giggled. “Why didn’t we put the apron on this way?” she mumbled against my lips. Her tongue slid against my own lips and damn, I wanted to cancel the party and take her to the bedroom right then.
“Guess I wasn’t smart enough back then,” I mumbled as I kissed along her neck.
She giggled, making her skin vibrate. “You weren’t smart enough a whole two hours ago?”
“Hey, I like to think I’m a grower.” I pulled back from her neck to rub the tip of my nose against hers.
She laughed as I pulled the apron over her head.
“That you are.” Then she carefully smoothed her curls, even though trying to tame her wild mane was an act of futility.
I liked her hair that way—wild. Opposite of my girl, who was so risk-averse she was always telling me some stat about how I was probably going to die of my own stupidity.
“Are you ready for the party?” she asked me, then nervously cast a glance around our home.
“Yeah, you?”
She nodded. “I think so.” She bit her bottom lip. It took all I had not to tug it free with my thumb before she added, “Do you think we have enough hot cocoa balls?”
“You ordered two for every person,” I retorted. “One’s enough to send someone into a diabetic attack.”
She laughed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I smiled back at her. “Well, then I think we’re ready.”
As if someone could hear our conversation, the doorbell rang. Della did a little happy dance, escaping my arms to go answer it. Smiling to myself, I hooked the apron onto her apron rack near the stove—because yes, Della had one for every occasion—and followed her to the door.
She opened it, letting in a gust of cold December air, revealing her parents silhouetted by the gray sky. They were just as punctual as she was, arriving about five minutes early.
When they came inside, I held out my hand to shake her dad’s, then gave her mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She rubbed my back and I flinched—just a little—because of the new tattoo. But I did my best to hide the reaction.
“Good to see you, Mama,” I told her. She had insisted I call her that, and it felt good to finally have someone to call “Mom” again.
“It smells wonderful in here,” she said, glancing around while she tugged off her mittens. “You two did a great job decorating.”
“It was all Della,” I said, taking her and Della’s father back to the kitchen to show them the cocoa bombs and the cookies Della made while Della stayed in the doorway.
Looked like my dad was coming up the sidewalk, holding Aggie’s hand.
Within fifteen minutes, it was a complete madhouse—kids running back to the guest bedroom to watch TV and play video games in the room Della had designed just for them.
Adults mingled about the kitchen and living room, standing in the free spaces and catching up even though we all lived in the same damn town and saw each other all the time.
Della had once confided in me that people used to question why she had such a big house as a single woman, but I knew it was just her being sensible—preparing for moments exactly like this.
When everyone had arrived and the Christmas music had officially wormed its way into my brain, Della clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and said, “Hey! Let’s get started!”