21. Grandfather Christmas
Chapter 21
Grandfather Christmas
TOMER
L ettie rests her head on my chest, wrapping her frame around my midsection. I cover her with my arm as much as possible to keep her exposed shoulders warm. I’d give her my shirt, but I’m in the ragged John McClane tank top. No help there.
Although it’s in the eighties in Clearwater, it’s chilly inside since the damn air conditioning in the hospital is set to turbo blast. Perhaps they’re trying to artificially make it feel more like the holidays since Mother Nature dropped the ball again this year.
Lettie’s subtle yawn brings a sleepy smile to my face. I’ve offered to take her home at least ten times so she can sleep in a bed instead of on a hard waiting room chair. But she’s stubbornly determined to wait out the babies.
Apparently, Klein and Mia are experiencing similar resistance from Klein’s mom. Each time they try to get her to leave, she becomes irrationally angry. Keeps talking about the bag . So they’re staying along with the rest of us.
We’ve taken turns doing sweeps of the hospital perimeter, looking for signs of trouble. Josh, Marley, and Deb volunteered to camp out at the entrances to ensure hospital security doesn’t let anyone in without a bag check and metal detector scan.
I kiss the top of her head, stroking my thumb up and down her shoulder. “I’m sorry your party ended in disaster. You worked so hard.”
“Disaster? Pshaw .” She pats my stomach twice like it’s a scolding. “Can’t think of a better ending. Instead of exchanging material things, our Redleg family is growing.”
Family .
If my heart could smile, it’d do it now.
Lettie wears my collar and engagement ring, but knowing she’s mine is surreal. We’re having a baby, and everyone at Redleg has welcomed her with open arms. Best of all, she’s accepted them the same way. While she and Big Al aren’t as close as she’d like, they’re off to a great start.
Undoubtedly, she considers herself Redleg family—which she is.
Her sudden giggle catches me off guard. A few others look over too.
“What is it, sugar bear?”
She pushes up, extricating from my embrace to face me. “I once heard an expression about—” Her laughter renews, cutting off her explanation for a beat. “Whoever it was said Christmas is basically one big baby shower that went hog wild.”
“Hog wild,” I parrot, raising my brows in disbelief. “Is that what they called it? Really?”
“Well, that’s my version. The original was likely something with less razzle-dazzle.”
I open my mouth, ready to bust her chops some more, but Big Al’s voice booms from the edge of the waiting room.
He and Madeline have been in with Sammy as her labor progressed, occasionally coming out to give us updates. I always thought only the father could be in the room for this shit, but apparently, that’s just what Hollywood wants you to believe. The last we heard, she was starting to push. I found that to be an odd thing to announce, but what do I know about it? Lettie and I haven’t started birthing classes yet.
Big Al’s face is carved in severe lines, and his tone is somber. “Listen up, troops. Announcement time.”
Silence settles over us like a scratchy blanket.
One by one, we launch to our feet. Lettie frantically grabs my hand, holding it between both of hers right over her chest. We trade worried glances. For a long time—too long for my comfort—nobody speaks.
“Boss?” Shep asks, his tone holding hints of alarm.
After ejecting a weighted breath that deflates his cheeks, he scans the room, looking at each person individually.“I’ve got some bad news. Two bits of bad news, in fact.” He pauses for another forced exhale. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m gonna just spit it out.”
Gasps and whimpers fill the space around us. My pulse skyrockets.
“Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Lettie mumbles, her voice a quavering shell of its normal vibrancy.
The air leaves my lungs in a lingering stream, and I don’t bother to inhale. Too frozen.
Boss clears his throat. “The bad news is... I lost the baby pool.”
The fuck?
Is this a joke or a really fucked up way to deliver the worst news imaginable?
I attempt to recall what he predicted by envisioning the baby pool poster in the break room. Everyone had written their bets for weight, time of birth, and all that shit on the paper. Except I can’t picture it before he drops the next bomb.
“The second thing is far worse, I’m afraid. There are two more humans in the world for us to deal with who have Sawyer’s DNA.” Big Al smiles, dropping the gloom and doom shit entirely. “And they look just fucking like him. He’s gonna be unbearable.”
Lettie releases my hand and curls her fingers in front of her face in frustration. She releases a hilarious, tension-breaking shriek that blooms into hysterical laughter. The kind that makes you think someone needs to be medicated.
“Boss! What the fuck?” Jonesy grumbles, his arms spread wide, and his face waxed over.
“Wow, Santa is a straight-up dickhead,” Val quips.
“Valerie!” Kri scolds her, then trains her knife eyes on Boss. “But yeah, that was a dickish thing to do.”
Big Al’s hit with similar sentiments from everyone in the waiting room.There are hugs, gripes, relieved exhales, and a chorus of cheers. Through it all, the fucker keeps right on smiling. As bright as the Christmas tree a few feet behind him.
“Jokes aside, everyone is doing fine.” He claps once, then rattles through a quick update like we’re in a sit rep. “Sammy gave birth to a healthy girl and boy. She’s doing great. Sawyer’s on cloud nine.Maddie’s flooding the entire maternity ward with happy tears. And you’ll be able to meet the babies soon.”
After soaking up some comfort in my embrace, Lettie storms over to her father with fire in each stomp. “I swear you could make a preacher cuss by pulling a stunt like that.” She wags her finger at him. “I wish I was an octopus so I could smack you eight times at once.” As soon as she gets close enough, she flings her arms around his shoulders for a giant hug.
My little firecracker.
I trail a few steps behind, then catch up and put my palm on the small of her back.
Big Al winks at me over her shoulder.“Get in here, T.”
Grabbing my hand, he yanks me into the hug without giving me the chance to object. Lettie shuffles to the side, making room for me. The three of us cling tight to each other, swaying from side to side and soaking up the joy of the moment.
As well as the relief because my fucking heart is still rioting in my chest.
Lettie’s the first to break the hug. “When can we see them, gramps?”
Wait . Gramps?
The single word sends my mind reeling. I blink several times and find myself glancing around the room to see if anyone else heard it or is reacting like me.
Stunning me further, he doesn’t bat an eye at the nickname. “I’ll go check. Be right back.”
Once he’s out of earshot, I ask her, “Why did you call him that?”
“You mean why did I call him gramps?”
I nod. “Were you teasing him?”
Thoughts skate through my mind at a frenzied pace, making it hard for me to unscramble why the nickname is causing this much discordance.
I’d expected for Lettie and me to treat Big Al as grandpa, given she’s his blood daughter and I’m... whatever I am to him. But the way everyone’s acting tonight, Big Al included, has me scratching my head.
My eyes scan the faces of my Redleg peers. Sure, most of us have strong feelings for him and view him in a fatherly light. But isthat enough?
Not sure why I’m so compelled to unwrap this, but semantics bother the shit out of me sometimes. Apparently, this is one of those times.
Lettie shifts her weight from one foot to the other, bringing herself directly in front of me. “Well, I was messing about the octopus arms but not by calling him gramps.” She lifts one shoulder for a half-shrug. “He might not be blood-related to Sammy and Sawyer, but?—”
“He isn’t married to Sammy’s mother either.”
Although I won’t bring it up now, I’m unsure of the status of Big Al’s relationship with Maddie. There’s been a shift recently. Tension so thick even I can see it. I’ve chalked it up to stress about Lenkov, but her not matching his costume tonight was unexpected. Everyone thought she’d be Mrs. Claus instead of... whoever she was dressed as.
“Marriage or not. Blood or not. It doesn’t matter,” Lettie answers with conviction in her enchanting voice. “That man gives everything for his Redleg family, treating all of you like his children. The way a father would. A damn good one. So when one of his kids has a baby, that makes him a grandpa in my book.”
As her words sink in, I catch sight of Big Al still trying to leave the waiting room. He’s stuck near the door to the maternity ward, where my peers pelt him with congratulatory hugs. One after another. There’s a damn line.
Like he’s the real grandfather.
Huh . I suppose Lettie’s right.
Everyone else sees him that way too. Regardless of the black-and-white semantics that I tend to get hung up on, he’s a grandpa now. Not only for the baby my sugar bear carries, but for any others who may be born in the future. Hell, even for Val, in a weird way, should the time come.
My mind rolls back over some of the things Big Al and I have discussed since Lettie was dropped on him.
When he was a young man, he always assumed he’d settle down and raise a family. Time ticked on, and it became less of a priority. Loneliness crept in at some point because he thought he’d missed his chance. Although he never let on, he has many regrets for not having a family.
As I scan the room and all the happy faces—his family— I’m smacked with the knowledge that Big Al didn’t miss his chance.
Not even close.
Instead of going the traditional route, he created the next best thing. Or perhaps he made a family even better than he would’ve had if he had chosen a different path.
“What’s that look for?” Lettie asks, snapping me back into the moment.
“Just thinking about how perfect this is for?—”
“No way!” Val yelps, bolting to her feet. “Lily!”
The hairs at my nape stand on end. A chill creeps down my spine.
There’s a disturbance in the Force.
Val dashes across the waiting room with her arms spread wide. And runs right smack dab into my worst nightmare.
The Amos-holes are here.
Ho, ho, oh fuck no.