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20
Or Merry Christmas to—whom?
Or, Who’s Coming for Christmas?
The delicious smell of turkey filled my senses and made me hungrier the closer I got to the kitchen.
And it took me a while.
Not only because this house was so fuckin’ big, but because of this stupid cane.
To be honest, I felt pretty proud to have graduated to the cane a couple of weeks ago.
That walker drove me insane.
Needless to say, the two months to get my new knee turned into four months.
Which actually ended up being a blessing in disguise.
Selling and sorting and moving took longer than I’d thought.
As it often did.
Not to mention the two tropical vacations I ended up taking my wife on. And a few other places as well.
But good holy God, Marianne on a beach—in a bikini—those were the best vacations.
And I had another one booked and planned for January—it was part of her Christmas present.
And I couldn’t wait for her to open it up.
The other thing about having a house this size was that it seemed to somehow call out to friends and family.
Or that could be my wife and daughter’s fault.
Which was fantastic in my view.
The way those two absorbed friends—it was a good thing this house was so fuckin’ big.
When I finally got to the bottom of the stairs, I gazed out over my surroundings.
Huge ass kitchen to my right. My wife and daughter fussing over some last minute fixings.
God, they were beautiful.
And happy.
Marianne said something to Alexis, and they both cracked up.
Marianne doubled over while my daughter slapped her hand on the counter.
And my heart grew.
Alexis had invited two of her teammates to Christmas.
Gigi and Jillian had been regular fixtures in our house for years, now.
Gigi brought along her mother and stepdad, her fiancé, and his twin boys—who were hell on wheels, lemme tell ya.
