Gabriela laughed. “Who is ready to make some Christmas cookies?”
“Finally!”
Ana helped Gabriela put away the groceries and clear the island counter before they set out everything they needed to make the butter cookies. While Ana was measuring out the dry ingredients, Gabriela focused on the wet and let her daughter slowly spoon the flour mixture into the mixer.
They took a break to eat an easy dinner of ham and swiss sandwiches while the cookie dough chilled in the refrigerator. When they were finished, they rolled the dough out and used Christmas cookie cutters to cut out the shapes. The big bear was Ana’s favorite.
Once the cookies were cooked and cooled, Gabby put on some music—a mix of Pentatonix’s Christmas albums—and she and Ana sang as they made several different colors of icing and decorated the cookies.
This had always been something Gabriela loved to do with her daughter every Christmas since Ana was a little girl. It had become a tradition. Their tradition.
Gabriela had tried to keep up on the Christmas traditions passed down from her family, but she hadn’t done the best job of it over the last several years. She knew that if her abuelita were still alive, the woman would’ve been calling to scold Gabriela every day lately for not praying faithfully during La Novena de Aguinaldos.
“So…is Mr. Lee your boyfriend now?” Ana asked.
Gabriela started, making the red icing stripe spill over the edge of the candy cane cookie she was decorating, and looked up at her daughter. Ana was focused on her cookie, her tongue sticking out as she covered the bear in white icing. She’d asked that question so nonchalantly, as though seeing her mother and a man touching each other wasn’t a big deal.
Those touches were as innocent as can be, anyway.
“He’s not,” Gabriela said. “We’re all just going out for hot chocolate tomorrow.”
“On a date.”
“Well…yeah, I guess so. But that doesn’t mean we’re together yet.”
Ana lifted her head and looked at Gabriela. Her unicorn hood had fallen back, and her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, rested over her shoulder. “It’s okay if you want to date him, Mom. I…would like to have a dad, and Mr. Lee is really, really nice.”
“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a minute, nena.” Gabriela lowered the bottle of icing and stood up straight. “Don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves? This is the first time we’ll be going out together. Yeah, we’ve talked and waved to each other here and there over the last year, but we don’t really know anything about each another. These things…they take time, Ana.”
“I know, I know. Just like in Frozen, when Ana thought she was in love with the prince she just met.”
The corners of Gabriela’s lips rose in a small smile. “Yeah. You can’t marry someone you just met.”
“But Mr. Lee is nice. He’s not like that nasty Prince Hans. He wouldn’t hurt you.”
Warmth filled Gabriela’s chest, sparked by Ana’s concern for her mother’s wellbeing—but also by the memory of Mason’s gentle touch. He was such a big, strong man, a real-life goliath, and yet he’d been so tender with Gabriela.
She tilted her head as she watched her daughter meticulously decorate her bear cookie.
How long had Ana been yearning for a father, how had Gabriela missed the signs? Was this a failure on her part for not noticing? Despite the lack of a father figure in her life, Ana had always been a happy child. It had always been just the two of them since Ana was born, and Gabby had done everything she could to fill the roles of both parents.
Why had Ana never said anything before now?
“How long have you been wanting a dad?” Gabriela asked.
Ana shrugged, looking a little shy as a crease appeared between her brows. “I don’t know. A while? I just hear all this stuff from Max and Julie, and the things they’ve done with their moms and dads. I just…wondered what it would be like. To be a whole family.”
Pain and grief struck Gabriela’s heart. “Ana, we’re still a whole family. Your family is who you make it.”
“We could make it bigger.” Ana peeked up at Gabriela. “I know you’re lonely, too, Mom.”
“Oh, baby, I’m not lonely. I have you.”
“But it’s not the same…is it?”
No, it isn’t.
And it killed her knowing that even her nine-year-old daughter could tell the difference.
Gabby glanced down at her unfinished cookie before turning her gaze toward the window that faced Mason’s house. What was he doing right now? He was over there, by himself, all day, every day. She’d never seen any visitors, had never seen anyone stop by to stay with him, had never seen him with any other woman, with any friends or family. Was he as lonely as Gabriela? Or was he even lonelier because he didn’t have anyone, whereas Gabby had Ana?
“I like him,” Ana said.
Gabriela looked back at her daughter and smiled. She knew Mason had talked to and helped Ana on many occasions, doing things that a father might normally do while Gabriela was busy inside the house. He’d always kept an eye on Ana, always made sure she was safe.
Mason was a good man, a kind man.
An incredibly sexy man.
“Yeah, I do, too,” Gabriela said softly.
“Then you should make him your boyfriend.” Ana wrinkled her nose. “But please stop staring at his butt, okay?”
Gabriela laughed. “That kind of comes with being boyfriend and girlfriend, so you’ll have to get used to it.”
“Bleck.”
“Just wait till we kiss.”
“Moooooooom.”
Grinning, Gabby stepped toward the cupboard where she kept her dishes, unable to stop herself from imagining what Mason’s lips would feel like against her own. Would his kiss be tentative, soft, and seductive? Or would he devour her in a heated, passionate kiss that would steal the very air from her lungs?
Either way, she knew her toes would be curling.
She opened the cupboard, took down one of the plates, and turned back to Ana. “Here. Why don’t you pick a few of the best cookies and take them over to Mason.”
“Okay! I’m going to give him the bear I made him.”
Gabriela looked down at the bear as Ana delicately picked it up and set it on the plate. She bit back her laughter.
No one was perfect. Not even her beautiful, perfect little girl.
But Ana was perfect to her.
Four
On any other evening, Broxen might have pondered the nature of mashed potatoes. They were an oddity to him. Humans seemed to largely consider mashed foods suitable only for infants, but potatoes were an exception—so much so that every frozen meal he’d seen that was marketed toward males with appetites contained mashed potatoes.
Why? Did mashed potatoes possess some masculine quality that made it acceptable for adult males to eat them when any other pulped food was only for babies?
Tonight, however, his thoughts did not wander such paths, not even as he scooped another forkful of overcooked mashed potatoes into his mouth. He barely registered the taste. In fact, he’d barely tasted any of his dinner, though the tray was nearly empty now. And he didn’t care.