Isabella
Ten Days Before Christmas
“It’s never going to fit,” I said, as he dragged the Christmas tree in.
The branches scraped against the doorway, bending back only to spring free again once it finally made it into the living room intact.
“I always make it fit, don’t I?”
I glanced down at our son, who was watching the whole fiasco unfold with great interest. I shifted on the couch so he could see his father better. Lewis wore a brown teddy-bear-print romper, a matching cream top beneath it.
He was cuteness personified. I couldn’t wait to show him off to Amber and Zach. I heard the tree scrape against something and looked up to find that Luke had, indeed, made it fit—into an L-shape stretched across the ceiling.
He looked so pleased with himself. I was probably part of the problem. I didn’t call him out on his bullshit nearly enough. Luke’s delusions were part of his charm, after all. Nine months of marriage to him had been quite the eye-opener.
The man was besotted with us.
I sighed.
I’d become an enabler.
“How does it look, baby?”
How could I possibly deny the excitement in his voice?
“It looks perfect, sweetheart,” I said, and just like that, his whole face lit up.
“Lewis, Daddy is going to make sure you have the best Christmas of your life.”
He was barely three months old.
Luke was living his absolute best life as a first-time parent.
Lewis gurgled, looking up at me.
I think he already knew his daddy was a crackpot.
? ? ?
“Who is this one for?” Luke asked, raising the remote-control racing car.
“Zach.”
His face fell.
“That’s nice,” he said, grudgingly, rolling out an appropriate length of wrapping paper before slicing it free with the scissors.
Luke’s was already wrapped, tucked away in one of the spare bedrooms.
The two of them had petty squabbles over everything from Scrabble to Connect Four wars. Luke had an online gaming account now too, and I only ever caught one side of their baiting, though it was hilarious enough that Amber happily filled me in on the other.
Fairy lights winked softly along the tree’s crooked branches, and the scent of pine had settled deep into the room, mixing with woodsmoke drifting faintly from the fireplace and the sweet, spiced warmth of the mulled wine Luke had insisted on simmering all afternoon.
Outside, the first proper frost of the season had crept over the garden, dusting everything silver beneath the porch light. We worked in comfortable silence, wrapping present after present, until the pile beneath the tree grew satisfyingly high.
Luke came and helped me up off the floor.
His arm locked around my waist, pulling me close, and he began swaying us together—though there was no music at all. I placed one hand on his shoulder, the other resting at his waist, and let him lead anyway.
He wasn’t exactly graceful. His steps were more enthusiastic than rhythmic, closer to a man attempting a waltz he’d only ever watched in films, and twice he nearly spun me straight into the coffee table, laughing every time I yelped and grabbed his arm to correct course.
“Our second Christmas together,” he murmured, twirling us around, entirely too pleased with his own footwork.
“It’s been like a fairy tale,” I said, smiling despite myself, despite the near-miss with the ottoman.
More like a Grimm fairy tale—the kind with darker, cautionary undertones.
“He’ll be up for a feed soon.”
“My milk shop is open for my boys.”
His deep chuckle warmed the whole room, and I let him spin me one more time, badly, joyfully, right past the tree that still hung crooked against the ceiling.
In a few short days, Amber and Zach would be here.
Our family would be complete.
? ? ?
I watched as Luke hugged Amber. He’d been awkward with physical contact before Lewis, and now he openly hugged Amber without hesitation. The sparse hugs he gave Zach were a touch more non-consensual.
“Hello, poppet,” he murmured.
It was a pity I was holding Lewis, or I’d have taken a photo.
Zach had already carried all the bags and cases in himself. It looked as if they were moving back in. I should be so lucky. He cleared his throat, clearly attempting to mark his territory. In this case, the territory was my daughter.
Luke grinned and released Amber. He walked straight up to Zach and pulled him into a hug. The grunting, wrestling, and shit-talking began almost instantly.
“Try harder, old man,” Zach wheezed, and the two of them tilted sideways, colliding hard into the wall.
Amber walked over to me, muttering something under her breath, but her face lit up the second she spotted Lewis, and she plucked him straight out of my arms, leaving me momentarily bereft.
“Hello, darling,” she murmured to Lewis. “How’s my favourite brother?”
“I heard that,” Zach gasped.
I chuckled at how utterly ridiculous both of these men were, and kissed the side of Amber’s head.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” I murmured, before guiding her into the living room.
The buffoons continued to grope each other in the foyer behind us. We left them to it. It was best not to interfere. They’d tire themselves out eventually.
Amber’s reaction to the Christmas tree was a timely reminder that Luke and free will were not always entirely compatible.
Yet this chaos was exactly what made our family unique.