I take a few quick breaths and head back to the living room, where we all begin stringing lights on the tree. They’re a tangled mess from where I tossed them in the box last year, so withinfinite patience, Tyler untangles them while the kids and I wind the strings onto the branches.
“There. Good enough,” I say, stepping back from it. Tilting my head, I examine it. “Does it look a bit wompyjawed?”
Tyler snorts a laugh, and I turn, narrowing my eyes at him. “Jo, who says wompyjawed?”
“You’re asking the wrong question, Tyler Kent,” I say, knocking him with my shoulder. “The question you should be asking is, why doesn’t everyone say wompyjawed?”
Tyler grins at me, those twin dimples entering the conversation. I’d give about anything to dip a finger into one.
“Remember when Mawmaw used to say flittersticks?” Abby asks, interrupting my train of thought.
“Oh! And tomfoolery!” Jay pipes up.
All four of us laugh and my heart does a little hiccup. Because this doesn’t feel like a stranger who’s been hanging around more lately. This feels very domestic, almost couple-y. No—we feel like a family.
“We should bring all those words back. Jay, when you’re acting up, from now on I’ll say ‘Jaybird, stop that tomfoolery.’”
“Maybe instead of fuck you should try saying flittersticks,” Abby says, then immediately claps a hand over her mouth.
“Abigail Nicole!” I gasp right as Tyler’s jaw falls open. “Language. When I was your age, Mawmaw grounded me for saying butt.”
“It was a quote, Mother. I wasn’t saying the word myself. Just quotingyourfavorite word.”
Well, she’s not wrong. It is my favorite word. Apparently I need to watch it, though, or it’ll soon be Abby’s favorite word as well.
“That settles it,” I say. “Flittersticks from now on. Abby, no cussing. Jay, do not repeat after your sister.”
I turn on a classic Christmas playlist, and we begin hanging ornaments. We mostly work in silence, Bing Crosby crooning in the background. A few times I catch Tyler stepping back toexamine the tree, then he’ll rearrange a few of his ornaments. Once, he catches me watching him and his lips tip up in a grin.
“Just making sure they’re evenly spaced.”
My answering grin is wide at this man who creates order without a second thought. My life has always been controlled chaos. I’m not tidy by any means, but I always know where things are amongst the clutter. Would that drive him crazy or would he accept me exactly as I am?
Abby and Jay grow bored with decorating, like they do every year. When Abby asks if she can go to her room, Jay’s quick to follow, leaving me alone with Tyler.
Peering over at him, I speak quietly. “It means a lot to me that you stepped up to coach the team. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jay so excited to see someone as he was when he spotted you.”
Tyler smiles, but then his lips twist down. “If this is none of my business, please tell me, but the other night at dinner, it seemed like Jay has…” Tyler pauses, searching for his next words. “Expectations. From his father. Does his father still come around?”
A sudden spike of anger flashes across my vision, and I clench my fists. I despise talking about Chad, but Tyler asked. So I might as well tell it like it is. Glancing down the hallway to check that Jay’s door is closed, I open up.
“For the most part, all of Jay’s friends have dads who are active in their lives. Believe me when I say that communicating with Chad made my stomach turn, but for Jay’s sake I was willing to give it a shot. I thought I’d gotten through to him. He showed up for a few visits when Jay was younger, but even that turned out to be too much effort.” I hear the bitterness in my words and hate how familiar the sound is to my ears. “When Jay was old enough to notice the absence, he’d pepper me with questions—so many questions. At Thanksgiving when you asked, remember I said I wish he would disappear?” He nods, and I go on. “This is awful to admit, but sometimes I wish I could erase Chad completely. Just wipe him from our story. Isthat fair to Jay? I have no clue. But it’s not like he’s around, ya know? Which means it wouldn’t technically change anything, I know that. But it would feel final, like a chapter finally closed. I’ve even considered asking him to terminate his rights, but knowing him he’d refuse just to be a dick.”
Tyler watches me for a moment, his eyes a little sad. But I watched closely for a reaction while I was talking. Tyler didn’t flinch at my admission.
“I don’t think that’s awful,” he says finally, voice low. “I think you’re a mom who has done everything you can. Plus, you’re doing it alone. It makes sense that you’d want a clean slate from the ghost of him.” Tyler’s eyes sear into mine with a quiet burning intensity. “Wanting closure isn’t wrong, Jo. It doesn’t make you cruel. It makes you human. And if letting go of him, even on paper, helps you and Jay breathe easier? Then I think that matters.”
I swallow hard, concentrating on his words. I’ve never confessed that to a single soul, and it feels liberating, freeing, to speak it aloud. Quietly, I take out another ornament, looping it on an empty branch.
The next ornament Tyler grabs is the one Abby made when she was four. We dipped her palm in green paint, then when the paint dried she glued on sequins as the ornaments. Tyler examines it, then opens his large palm and lays her handprint onto his. That simple, precious gesture sends a flutter of butterflies to my belly.
“Would you like to keep that?” I ask.
Tyler looks up from where he’s eyeing the handprint ornament.
“Nah. It belongs here on this tree.”
I lift a brow. “You sure?”
