Through the door I could see their two heads bowed over their balls of yarn, chattering away like schoolgirls. They’d become even closer since Marc’s mom had moved into my old room. My heart swelled even more. His hard work had brought joy to their Christmas as well.
I looked past them, admiring the table, his careful cuts and joints of wood. “We should eat before the food gets cold. It looks delicious. Did Todd hook you up?”
Last of the lights in place, Marc eased around them, ready to climb down. “More of a congratulations. The second location is happening. He gave me head chef downtown. He’ll announce it Monday.”
“Oh, my God!” I shrieked, beyond elated.
Marc’s foot slipped at my excitement, but he caught himself just in time, laughing as he stared below. “Wouldn’t be much to announce if I landed on the pavement.”
My heart jittered a happy rhythm. “Maybe you should take that up with your old friend, the ice.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him. “Sabotage.”
“Ha. Never.” He looked so content. Even with one hand gripping the roofline, the other clinging to the pillar, he was at ease. He’d worked so hard, found a new plan, and pushed his way forward. The ice may have been his first love, but this was his second chance to chase a dream. And I was so glad he was taking it.
I pulled him down from his perch, burying my face in his chest with a happy sigh. “I’m so proud of you.” I breathed, all worries fading away. Sure, he’d be working a lot more. And that would be hard. But as long as he was home every night, I could deal with it. This promotion would change so much for us.
So much he didn’t even know about yet.
I couldn’t wait to head inside and share our meal as a family. I couldn’t wait to gift our mothers with the specially picked trinkets I’d found for them. And I couldn’t wait to crawl under the tree in the morning and give him his presents.
The first? Reminding him about the apartment Christmas light contest. I’d seen the rest of the complex driving in. Marc’s was hands down the best. He was going to win. I knew it.
And the free month’s rent it would win us was going to come in handy. Because the other present I had to give him? The big one? Well, he was going to be a father. And by this time next Christmas, we’d have another mouth to feed, another room in need.
And another pair of feet with us under the tree.
Chapter 8
Four Years Later
Our first home was small, but it had a great yard, giant clusters of trees, and a set of bright, wide windows that captured the morning sun.
Not that I ever saw it.
Marc worked so many nights, he kept the windows covered tight, and I kept the kids as quiet as possible, which was not an easy feat.
Sometimes I thought I was losing my mind. The two days a week that Alex and Finn were with my mom and I actually went into the office were like heaven. But the rest of the time I was working remotely from home, kids underfoot, husband under blankets.
And I loved them. I did.
But sometimes I felt like maybe I’d lost myself. I was too busy to focus on anything, to give my all in any situation. It wasn’t how I’d functioned. Ever. And this new person? She was great at multi-tasking, terrible at accepting half-way points as progress. My sense of completion had been lost with any semblance of sanity, and some days I wondered if I’d ever get either back in full.
There were quiet moments, though. Moments when I’d get Finn settled into his crib after baths, then tuck Alex in tight with a story, and find myself being woken from my nightly nap, curled up on the couch.
“You smell like the kids’ bubble bath.” Marc nuzzled into my neck.
I opened one groggy eye and swept my wrinkled nose against his. “You smell like the kitchen.”
He laughed. “I’ll shower.” His lips met mine. Red, delicious apple lips. The core lay on the coffee table, crumpled napkin beneath. “Care to join me?”
I sat up and stretched into him. “Absolutely.” He knew my weakness well.
“First, come here.” He pulled me to my feet and headed toward the door. “I want to show you something.”
“Are you limping?” His left leg was dragging a bit.
“It’s nothing.” He waved it off with a grin. “Come on.”
“But it’s so cold out.”
He already had my favorite red fleece in-hand. “It’ll be worth it.”
His smile was too hard to resist, and I held my hands up, still too half-asleep to protest as he dressed me and nudged me outside with a gentle push.
For my minor efforts, my eyes were treated with all of his. He’d lined the roof with a custom pattern of red, green, and white lights. Santa and reindeer on the lawn, ready to take off. “When did you—how—?”
“I’ve been home for a couple hours.” He tucked his hands in his pockets with a sheepish shrug.
I grabbed one out and stared at his watch. “Two a.m.? What in the world?”
His face fell, and then it hit me. “You can’t do it tomorrow because you’re working.”
He sighed. “Just the day shift. I swear.”
“Marc.” I shook my head. “It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I’ll be home in time to put cookies out for Santa.”
“The kids—”
“Will be fine.” He was kind, but firm. We’d had this discussion so much it was second nature. The restaurant pull on his life was fierce, and I tried to be as understanding as possible, but I’d put my foot down on Christmas.
“You promised.”
“And I’m keeping that promise.” He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m trying here, Jill. I swear.”
Not enough. But what was enough?
He was here, wasn’t he?
One deep breath. I tried to let it go.
He wasn’t the one I was mad at anyway. Not really.
At least not entirely.
I crossed my arms and stared up at the house. “Two a.m. Christmas lights, huh? That’s a first for us.”
He sensed me caving and took me by the waist, drawing me in. “Are we good?” He nuzzled into my neck.
Santa waved at me from the yard. I blinked at him, resting my chin on Marc’s shoulder. “Yeah. We’re fine.” I breathed again, tried to laugh. “Mrs. Claus never gets to spend Christmas Eve with her husband either, I guess.”
He squeezed tighter. “I’ll be home in time. I promise.”
His shifts always ran long. I knew better. But I stared up at the lights, and let it go, really let it go this time, and kissed his neck instead. All he did for us, all he ever did, was try to make our world better and brighter. How could I not give on this? “I know you’ll be home.”
That’s what mattered after all. Not the when, but that he came home. Always. “Me and you.” My eyes filled, and I took a deep breath, trying to keep the emotional swell from taking over. “We stay.”
He rubbed on my back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“No, no. It’s not just that.” I sniffed. “My dad called today.”
He pulled back to look at me, eyes shifting between hard beats of anger and soft concern. “And?”