Chapter 23
twenty-three
LIAM
“Last batch of gingerbread men are in the oven. Want to start on the peppermint hot cocoa ones?”
“Yes!” Poppy squeals. She loves when I let her crush up candy canes.
The three of us have been baking Christmas cookies all morning. Poppy was so worried about Maya not being back in time for the festivities. The timing of her arrival last night couldn’t have been better.
Last year, Poppy and I handed out cookies from the diner on Christmas Eve. The town has a small event in the square, so it felt right to participate.
It’s nothing huge, but a few of the local businesses put up tents and offer family-friendly activities like snowmen competitions or ornament painting. It was nice to participate, to be part of something. Poppy was in heaven last year and I remember thinking it was the kind of event I’d never seen in the city. No one charges for their services, it’s just a community celebrating the holidays together.
This year, making cookies is an obligation. I had at least seven people come by the diner last week, making sure we’d have them again this year. They even started making requests on flavors.
I throw all the candy canes in a large ziplock bag and wrap it in a kitchen towel before I hand it to Poppy.
“Maya, come stomp with me.” My daughter tosses the package on the floor and starts jumping.
“I think I’ll let you handle that, Pop-tart. You’re so good at it.”
Maya slides next to me behind the island and rests her head on my shoulder. Poppy has been glued to her side since she got home last night, so we haven’t had a moment alone yet. I grab her hand, interlace our fingers together.
“Thanks for spending Christmas with us,” I murmur.
“Thanks for taking me in.”
“Always.” I drop a kiss on her forehead while Poppy’s distracted with the candy canes.
Ezra went up to Burlington yesterday with Theo, Ellie, and baby Stevie and they’re planning on staying through the night.
“I’m sorry you don’t get to spend the holiday with your best friend,” I offer.
“Oh, no. I don’t think I’ll ever get her on Christmas again. They have too many traditions. I might be a little jealous, but I’ll never get in the way of that.”
“What kind of traditions?” I ask, taking the candy cane bag from Poppy before she pulverizes them into dust. I grab the rest of the cookie dough ingredients and start mixing.
“Did you know they all spent the holidays together as kids?” I shake my head. “Theo’s parents died when he was pretty young. I’m not sure where he was living, but I know the Kleins had him stay with them every year for Christmas and New Year’s. Ellie told me how they all used to build a pillow fort together and camp out in her basement watching movies and eating junk food. It sounds magical.”
“Magical?” I ask. It sounds like kids in a basement, but I don’t tell her that. Maybe if I got along with my family better I’d like the sound of it too. My parents were too worried about me having a bad influence on my perfect sister to plan any activities together.
“Okay, I’m sure it sounds silly, but to me, it’s the kind of stuff I only see in movies. We used to spend the holidays at all these fancy parties where I had to wear itchy tights and keep my hair pinned back. And I could never remember which language we were supposed to be speaking. No friends, no junk food, no matching pajamas. Not magical.”
I grab one of the gingerbread cookies that’s finished cooling, offer it to her lips. “Let’s make some magic then.”
The gingerbread latte cookies go first. Then the cranberry linzers.
By six o’clock, all we have left are rosemary shortbread snowmen, which kills me a little. They’re my favorite.
“It’s just ‘cause they don’t look as festive,” Maya placates. “They’re still delicious.”
I know they’re delicious. And rosemary is festive. “So why didn’t you have any?”
She shoves another chocolate dipped snickerdoodle into her mouth from the stash she hid from guests. She shrugs. “…thocklet.”
“Look, Daddy! I can catch snowflakes on my tongue!” We’ve been set up at a table next to the gazebo so we could take cover once the snow started falling. But Poppy keeps running in circles around the lit-up structure, chasing after each flake. “Did you see?” She sticks out her tongue again.
“Be careful, Pop-tart. You don’t want to turn into a snowman,” Maya quips.
Poppy freezes, her gleeful smile gone, eyes wide as saucers. “What?”
Maya looks at me with panic in her eyes. She’s so good with my daughter, but every once in a while she’s surprised by how literal Poppy takes her jokes.
“She’s kidding, angel. The only thing you’ll turn into is a sugar plum fairy.”
“Really?” And she’s back to running in circles again.
“That should buy us some quiet time,” I whisper to Maya.
She grins, her cheeks extra rosy from the cold. She’s wearing these massive furry white earmuffs. It’s taking everything out of me not to use them as handles and kiss her. Instead, I wrap an arm around her, pull her close while we admire all the lights around us. This town really knows how to do the holidays. Every part of the square is sparkling.
“Magic,” Maya murmurs.
“Yeah? Maybe this could be our tradition,” I test, waiting to see if she reacts. She tilts her head, leaning further into me. So I keep going. “Baking cookies, drinking spiked eggnog under the gazebo, watching Poppy lose all feeling in her tongue…”
“I like it.”
Three little words have me feeling victorious. “What else? What other traditions should we have?”
“Mmm,” she ponders. “Matching pajamas? Spoiler alert. I already bought them.”
“Of course you did. Poppy will love it.” I squeeze her a little tighter, silently curse her thick coat for coming between us. “What else?”
“I don’t think we need anything else. Well, I wouldn’t say no to a big fancy breakfast, in the matching PJs of course.”
“Done. I live to feed you, remember?”
“Ahh,” Maya squeals when Mr. Milkshake jumps onto her lap. She starts to laugh, a little more used to his surprise appearances by now.
“Mr. Milkshake!” Poppy yells, running back toward us. But this time she’s not alone.
I tense and Maya squeezes my arm. She whispers, “It’s okay. Don’t panic.”
“This is Beau,” Poppy introduces us to the boy holding her hand.
Holding her hand.
“Hi, Beau,” Maya says. “Are you in the same class in school?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “And she’s my girlfriend.”
“Come on, Mr. Milkshake! Catch snowflakes with us!” Poppy screams and drags Beau back into the snow.
“On a scale of one to Harley, how much are you freaking out right now?”
“Not funny, Bloom. Since when does my seven year old daughter have a boyfriend ?”
“I’m sure it’s not too serious,” she teases. “Here, have the rest of my eggnog. You need it more than I do.”