“Jay.” Abby gives him a flat look. “You can’t ask things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s rude,” Abby explains.
“Well, Lucy Cochran asked me to be her boyfriend. I told her no, because I saw her eat a booger last week. But it’s no big deal if someone’s a boyfriend…or a girlfriend,” he adds, shrugging.
My eyes flicker to Tyler and then to my kids. “Tyler and I are…friends,” I settle on, even though that single syllable feels all wrong. The word tastes like sour milk in my mouth. What we are is a complicated situationship, nothing and yet everything simultaneously. But “friends” is a good enough response for the kids.
Judging by the way Tyler averts his eyes, a rueful expression crossing his face, he too hears how wrong the word sounds. “Friends,” he repeats, a hint of regret in his tone.
The four of us are quick to clean up all the boxes and wrapping paper. Jay goes to his room to test out his new headset, while Abby props up her music stand in the living room, playing her new flute. My fingers itch to use my new watercolors, but I still have to get dinner made.
Like he read my mind, Tyler heads to the kitchen. “What are we cooking?” He rolls up his sleeves, showing off those forearms again.
Why does everything about this man have to be such a damn turn-on? First his constant thoughtfulness, the chocolate icing situation in the Chili’s parking lot, and now I get an up close and private view of stupidly sexy forearms, veins roping over each one. His forearms are almost as sexy as his face—almost.
A couple years ago, the kids and I were tired of traditional Christmas food, being so close to Thanksgiving and all. We decided to create our own tradition of having my grandmother’s gumbo recipe instead and I’ve made it every Christmas Eve since. Though this is the first year my Grandmother isn’t here to enjoy it with us.
I nod my head to the refrigerator. “Grab the celery. And there’s an onion and bell pepper here on the counter. Would you mind chopping?”
Tyler gives me a half smile, shaking his head like my question is the craziest thing he’s heard. America’s Christmas anthem, “All I Want for Christmas is You” plays from the music app on myphone and I sing along, shaking my hips and occasionally using the whisk as my microphone. At the chorus, I catch Tyler staring at me with a big goofy grin on his face, which I match with one of my own and hip bump him. Without warning, he grabs my hand and spins me around, right here in my kitchen. On a startled laugh, I tip my head back, feeling happier than I can recall in a long time. The song ends and we resume chopping and stirring, occasionally glancing over at each other, laughing quietly.
“Tyler?” I say.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I truly love my gifts. The kids do, too.”
He pauses chopping to look at me. “Other than my family, it’s been a long time since I bought gifts for anyone. I knew I didn’t want the gifts to be generic, run of the mill items. I wanted each of you to feel seen, y’know?” His Adam’s apple works on a swallow. “Anyway, I’m glad to hear I got it right.”
Emotion threatens to clog my throat, but I manage to say, “You got it perfect.”
With Tyler helping, dinner comes together more quickly than it would have with me alone, and it’s not long before I’m calling the kids to the table. We eat while the kids take guesses at what’s under the tree for them. Jay still believes in Santa, so he tells us all about the gifts he hopes Santa brings.
So caught up in our dinner table discussion, after we’ve cleaned up and Tyler stands to head out, we’re completely shocked to find that the snow moved in sooner than expected. Ice crystals glitter on every tree branch and theping, ping, pingof more ice falling can be heard around us. The temperature has been so cold this week it’s not melting when it hits the ground.
Slowly, Tyler puts one foot on the top step of my porch,gripping the handrail, then his other foot. Ice crunches under his weight, and he takes the next step, slow and steady. But when his feet hit the front walk several things happen at once. One foot slides forward while the other scissors backward. His arms pinwheel as he tries, but fails to right himself, and before I know it, he’s sprawled out on the ground with a thud.
I clap both hands to my mouth to stuff down my laugh, but it’s no use. When I see Tyler also gasping for breath through bouts of laughter I lose it, devolving into belly aching giggles.
“That was not my smoothest moment.” Tyler makes another attempt to stand, but all he achieves is more slipping and sliding. Instead, he scoots inch by inch until he’s seated on my porch step.
Taking a seat beside him, I say, “I guess the ice moved in earlier than expected.”
Tyler shoots me a wry smile. “Ya think?”
I bump my shoulder against his with an eye roll.
“Let me talk to the kids. If they’re fine with it, you can stay here. You’re entirely too tall for the chaise lounge in my art room, but I have an air mattress we can blow up.”
Tyler’s eyes scan my face, likely looking for doubt. He won’t find it, though. It’s just an air mattress in a spare room. Plus, it’s Christmas Eve. He should be with people. That quiet voice pipes up again, whisperinghe should be with family.He nods, and gingerly I stand, holding on to the banister. Tyler stands, too, gripping my arm so I don’t slip and fall. Once he’s sure I won’t lose my footing, we go back inside, Tyler going to the kitchen while I head down the hallway to talk to my kids.
Abby has packed up her flute and is now back in her bedroom on a call with Amelia. I can hear her talking animatedly, chattering about her gifts from Tyler. When I get to her door, I tap lightly with my fingernails to get her attention.
“I need to talk to you kids about something.” Jay’s door is wide open across the hall but he still has his headset on, so I stepinto his room to lift one ear of his headset. “I said, I need to talk to you kids about something.”
Jay grins but pauses his game and looks up.
