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He smiles. “I told the man I want to look like a hockey player.”
I blow out a breath. It isn’t easy for me to hear my son talk this way. Not after his hockey player father abandoned us.
“I love it.” I grin.
“Me too,” Crew says. “This place isn’t so bad.”
Everyone who heard him laughs.
Patty pays for our services, and we head back to the apartment and get ready for our Christmas Eve dinner. I feed Crew some chicken fingers and fries I had prepared.
“Mmm, I’m stealing one,” Patty says. “It’s going to be forever until we eat.”
She’s right. I take a finger too, and dip it in ketchup.
“Ketchup is gross,” Patty sneers, and she looks at Crew knowing she’ll get a reaction out of him.
“It’s the best,” he tells her. It’s an ongoing argument between those two.
We all get dressed in our green and red Christmas sweaters. This year a big Christmas tree is on the front with pom-poms as decorations poking off the sweater. It looks ridiculous, but I like that the Sanders clan like to feel united in this way, and I’m grateful to them for including Crew and me.
“Traffic is shit,” Patty says, looking at her phone. “Kev Ubered from the airport to Mom and Dad’s, and it took him an hour.”
“We should get going then,” I suggest. We leave our apartment, and we get in an Uber headed for Tribeca, which is where Patty’s parents live.
The drive is slow. “We also have some other cousins coming this year,” Patty explains. “They aren’t blood relatives, but Dad played with Nils, and Aunt Sloane is good friends with Sierra. We all kind of just grew up together. They have triplets your age. Two boys and a girl. They all go to NYU,” she explains.
“Nice,” I say.
“Are we there yet?” Crew asks.
“Not yet, sweetie,” I reply.
Patty whispers if she can give him the iPad, and I nod to her.
His face lights up when she passes it to him.
By the time we get to Tribeca, I’m happy to be out of the car. I carry Crew’s overnight bag, and Patty takes his hand. I brought a homemade chocolate box for Flynn and Myles as a thank-you for having us. We head out into the cold night. Tribeca is so much fancier than Brooklyn. We head inside the tall building and pass security. They know Patty, so she just says hi, and we enter the elevator that opens directly into her parents’ apartment.
The elevator door opens, and Patty’s mom stands there waiting for us.
“Hi there,” Flynn says, giving me a hug.
“Look at you, Crew. You’ve gotten taller,” she observes.
“Because I’m starting first grade next year,” he claims.
“You look so handsome in your sweater. We’re matching,” Flynn says.
Crew smiles. “All of us are twins.”
Flynn laughs.
“Thanks so much for having us,” I greet, passing her the chocolate box.
“We are so happy you could join, and thanks for this. Chocolate is my favorite,” Flynn states, and then Myles, Patty’s dad, comes over.
“Nice to see you again, Skylar.” He smiles kindly, then he looks at Crew. “You’ve grown, little man. We need to get you on skates soon,” he says because hockey is such a big part of their family.
