Chapter 37
W hen Jesse woke up the next morning, groggy from sleep and afflicted with bedhead, he froze, wide-eyed, in the hallway, staring at the display in the living room.
He looked as though he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.
Christmas had come and gone weeks ago, but before him was a fully decorated tree, complete with wrapped gifts beneath it. And there was his father, wearing a Santa hat and smiling at him.
“Merry Christmas, big guy,” Mitch said.
“But …” Jesse blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. “We already had Christmas.”
“Well, I wasn’t here for it, so we’re having it again.”
Jesse’s mouth hung open as he worked to recover from his shock. “Again?”
“Yeah, why not?” Delilah said. She smiled at Jesse, feeling his contagious excitement.
Mrs. Foster’s artificial tree stood next to the fireplace, bearing the lights and ornaments Quinn and Delilah had bought for their first go-around with the holiday. Stockings for Jesse and Gavin, stuffed with small gifts, hung on the mantel. Artificial pine boughs—bought in the clearance section at Target—decorated the staircase banister. And Christmas carols—from a CD picked up in the same clearance section—played on the stereo.
“You want to go wake up Gavin?” Quinn suggested.
That, finally, snapped Jesse out of his shock. He ran back down the hallway, yelling for his brother.
The rest of the morning was a flurry of gifts, wrapping paper, hot cocoa, and pancakes in a scene remarkably similar to the Christmas celebration they’d enjoyed just weeks before.
The difference was, the boys now had all three of their favorite adults there to share it with them.
“Two Christmases. This is so great,” Jesse said, looking drunk on gifts and cocoa. He was still wearing his pajamas, and his hands were sticky with the remnants of a clearance-section candy cane.
Gavin was sitting on Mitch’s lap, his thumb nowhere near his mouth. “Are you going to live in Cambria now?” he asked his father.
“No, but I wanted to talk to you guys about that.” Mitch patted the sofa next to him and gestured for Jesse to sit next to him. When they were all assembled, Mitch looked at first one boy, then the other. “You know how I moved to Paris for my job, right?”
That was the lie they’d settled on—that he’d moved for his job.
The boys nodded.
“Well, it didn’t work out so well. So I thought maybe I’d come back to live in the United States again. New York. My law firm’s there, and it’s closer to you guys. If you come back to Connecticut—”
“We’re not,” Delilah said, keeping her voice neutral. “We’re going to live here now, in Cambria. Permanently.”
For just a moment, just a flash, Mitch looked as though he wanted to argue with her. Then he arranged his expression in a way that said pleasant, rational adult.
“Ah. Are you? Okay.” He nodded. “Well, still. I can fly here to see you a lot more often. And when you guys come to the East Coast to see your grandparents and Aunt Roxanne, I can see you then. If that’s okay with your mom.”
“It is,” Delilah said.
“The point is, guys, I’m going to do better. I promise.”
Delilah had her doubts about whether he actually would. Mitch often made promises and had good intentions, and so often those promises led to nothing.
But maybe this time would be different.
Whether it was or it wasn’t, she’d know she did her best to give her kids access to their father. She’d know she’d taken the high road, and she’d know she’d given her boys a memory to hold close even if their father was far away.
It wasn’t everything, but it wasn’t nothing, either.
Quinn was there for the second Christmas celebration—he hadn’t wanted to miss it after he’d put all that work into it—but he’d held back, letting Mitch be the man of the hour.
He was standing in the kitchen, drinking a mug of coffee and trying to stay out of the way, when Mitch came to find him.
“Delilah says all this was your idea.”
“It was, yeah.” Quinn rubbed at the stubble on his chin.
“I guess I owe you a thank you, then.” But he looked like it might actually kill him to offer it.
“Well … don’t strain yourself, man.”
Mitch smiled ruefully. “Look. I was kind of a dick to you before.”
“Yep. You were. And I don’t expect us to hold hands and sing folk songs together now.”
“I guess not,” Mitch shrugged. “All I’m saying is that the kids seem happy. Delilah seems happy. And if you’re part of that …”
“I hope I am.”
“Well … I won’t stand in your way, that’s all.”
“Big of you. But you couldn’t stand in my way if you tried.”
They glared at each other, sizing each other up. The option of pissing on the baseboards to establish dominance was still on the table.
“I guess we understand each other,” Mitch said.
“I guess we do.”
Mitch nodded a few times, his head bobbing. “If you hurt her, or them, I’ll come after you.”
“Same goes.” Quinn stood with his arms crossed over his chest, trying his best to look imposing.
Mitch turned toward where the boys were sitting on the sofa, clapped his hands, and put on his best smile. “So, who needs more pancakes?”
That night, Quinn and Delilah put the boys to bed, then went to bed early themselves, but not to sleep.
They lay nude beneath the covers, facing each other, both of them wrapped up in the glow of the holiday spirit.
They’d made love twice—energetically the first time, with the urgency of two people who knew they’d found The One. Then again, more slowly, savoring every touch and taste.
Now, Delilah felt deeply relaxed and happy as she gazed at him in the pale moonlight coming through the window.
“Thank you for what you did. I don’t know if Mitch—”
“Maybe we could not say his name while we’re both naked,” Quinn suggested.
“Right.” She smiled. “I don’t know if everyone who should have thanked you actually did. But I wanted you to know how much it meant to me and the boys.”
He ran his hand down the glossy flow of her hair. “The person we’re not mentioning—the one who should have thanked me—did. Sort of. As much as he could manage, anyway.”
“Well, good. The boys had a wonderful time. And I did, too.”
“I’ve got a bonus good time for you, if you want.”
“I think you already gave it to me. Twice.” She cuddled up to him, pressing her body against his.
Lying with Quinn, Delilah thought that he’d given her everything. Love. Hope. Joy.
And more than that, he’d given her some semblance of peace with her ex.
“What did you think of that house on Lodge Hill?” she asked him.
“The one with the big stone fireplace? I loved it.”
“I did, too. I think I’m going to make an offer on it. If the boys like it.”
“They will.”
“And I was wondering …” Delilah ran a finger along his bicep. “If maybe you might like it enough to live there with us one day.”
“One day?”
“One day sooner rather than later. I’m not ready yet—and the boys aren’t ready yet—but we’re going to get there. If you want that.”
He squeezed her a little tighter. “This is the Christmas that just keeps giving.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes, absolutely. When you’re ready.”
Delilah drifted off to sleep in his arms, thinking that she felt happier and more at peace than she ever had at any point in her relationship with Mitch.
It would take a miracle for it to stay this good.
But if she was asking for a miracle, Christmastime—especially a Christmastime they’d manufactured themselves out of love and good will—seemed like as good a time as any.
***