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My thoughts go back to the last time we celebrated Christmas when Pete was alive. After the kids woke up, before we started opening presents, Pete insisted on taking a family picture using the self-timer on his phone. It’s the picture the kids keep by their bed. The four of us and in the background is the Christmas tree, the stockings, and the kids’ Christmas pictures they colored and hung on the wall. This room looks like our family Christmas picture on steroids.
“Why would you do this?” I choke out, fully aware that I’m crying, but it doesn’t make any sense. Why would the guys take that picture and do this? They’ve never once tried to recreate what Pete and I had.
“Oh, shit,” Brody curses under his breath. “Bree…”
“Why?” I cry out. “Why would you take that photo and recreate it? I don’t understand.”
Hayden and Brody look at me with confused expressions, and then my eyes go to Evie, who has silent tears sliding down her face.
“Oh, sweetie.” I run over to her and pull her into my arms. “Are you okay?” I glance up at Brody and Hayden and glare. “What is wrong with you?”
“They didn’t do it,” Evie says softly.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“They didn’t do it,” she repeats, her cries getting louder. “I did.” She pulls out of my arms. “I’m so sorry, Mommy,” she says through her tears. “I just wanted to make Christmas happy again like in the picture. Because you’re always sad on Christmas since Daddy died.”
Oh, my heart. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly, hating that my children have suffered because I’ve been so busy mourning my late husband. I had assumed because their father died on Christmas, they would hate the holiday too, but they’re little and innocent. This entire time, they’ve been going along with my lack of Christmas for me because I was sad.
I look over and find Miles standing to the side, watching. “I tried to tell her no, but she wouldn’t listen,” he says solemnly.
“Are you mad at me?” Evie asks.
“No, sweetie. I’m not mad,” I say, needing to make this right. “I love the tree and the stockings and your beautiful pictures.” I look at Evie and smile. “You’re right. This all makes me very happy, just like in the picture.”
“You promise?” Evie asks.
“Yes.” I walk over to the tree and run my fingers along the various ornaments I can tell the kids picked out, which reminds me… “I’ll be right back.”
I run into Hayden’s bedroom, which is now the guest room and houses several of my unpacked boxes. I rifle through them until I find what I’m looking for, and then head back to the living room, where I find everyone sitting quietly, worried because I freaked out and scared that I was upset.
“These are from when your dad was alive,” I say, handing the box to Evie. She opens it up and inside there are ornaments. “This was our first family ornament,” I tell her.
“It has all our names,” she says, smiling at me. “Even Daddy’s.”
“Yep. And this one”—I pull it out and hand it to Miles—“is your first Christmas ornament.”
He takes it from me and looks at it. “I don’t remember these,” he says softly.
“No, you were too little. But every year, we would buy a new ornament for Christmas to hang on the tree. I saved these for you guys.”
“This is mine?” Evie asks, taking the princess crown ornament out of the box.
“Yep, that was your first ornament.”
“Can I hang it on the tree?” she asks.
“Of course, you can.”
She eyes the family one. “What about this one?”
“That should definitely go on the tree,” I tell her. “That way, it will be like your dad is with us for Christmas.”
The kids take the ornaments over to the tree, and while I watch them hang them up, Brody and Hayden come over, wrapping their arms around me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have accused—”
“Shh, sweetness,” Brody says. “I should’ve asked you first. It’s just, Evie looked at me and…”
“She totally gave you the puppy dog eyes,” I say with a laugh.
“Yeah,” Brody groans.
“Well, it’s a good thing she didn’t say she wants a damn car,” I mutter.
When neither guy says anything, I glance at them and notice their guilty expressions. “She didn’t ask for a car, right?”
“No,” both guys say in unison.
“Mommy, can we finish decorating the tree?” Evie asks, hopefulness filled in her eyes.
“Absolutely.” I stand and walk over to join them. We spend the next hour decorating the rest of the tree while we listen to Christmas music. Once it’s done, Evie turns the lights on and squeals over how beautiful it is.
“Can we watch a Christmas movie?” she asks, clearly in the holiday spirit.
“Sure,” I tell her.
We pile onto the couches, and Brody clicks on Netflix. As he’s scrolling through the different Christmas movies, I notice six stockings hanging on the fireplace instead of five. One of which has a paw print on it.
