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Taeli finds us in the parking lot.
“Look at what we just found in the gift shop,” Taeli says, holding up a long-sleeved maternity tee that saysSanta Babywith a Santa hat over the words.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I ask.
“No, I got it for Isley,” she says.
“And what else did you get?” I ask as I eye the large brown bag in her hand.
“A couple of ornaments, a sprig of mistletoe, a make-your-own garland kit, and a few gingerbread houses for the boys to assemble. Oh, and this is for you.” She pulls a sweater from the bag.
It’s red and white, and it readsThe Jolliest Bunch of Assholes This Side of the Nuthouse. A quote from the best Christmas movie ever made.
“What do you think?” she asks, her eyes glistening with excitement.
I take the sweater from her fingers and hold it up to my chest.
“I love it,” I declare, and she beams.
“God, I hope Isley doesn’t end up in that shop,” Langford mumbles.
Taeli’s eyes snap to him. “She’s checking out now.”
“Shit. We’ll probably end up with matching sweaters,” he groans.
He doesn’t mind one bit. I know my older brother. I can read it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He loves every second of this. It’s just been him and Tuck for a long time, and while he did his best to make sure his son had a wonderful holiday experience, he could never quite create the magic that Isley inevitably will.
I glance at my wife.
It’s the same for me. I didn’t realize how empty my house, my life, was until Taeli and Caleb came barreling in and made it a home.
“We should have an ugly Christmas sweater party!” Taeli squeals.
Langford huffs. “When? Between us busing the boys to their other parent’s homes, preparing for Garrett’s Hollywood-style wedding, the valley Christmas parade, and creating Santa’s Village at the ski resort on Misty Mountain, we’re running low on time already. Isley’s been distraught because we have no time in the schedule this year to visit her brother and parents in Arizona.”
“Can’t you at least send her?” I ask.
“Alone? Fuck no. She’s too far along in the pregnancy. I wouldn’t want her to travel that far without me to help. Besides, she’s the mayor, so she needs to be there for the parade and town festivities, and she doesn’t want to miss the wedding.”
“That sucks. She needs to see her dad,” Taeli utters.
Langford’s father-in-law suffers from Alzheimer’s, and as the disease progresses, his memory and cognitive functions are diminishing.
“I know,” Langford whispers.
I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze.
“Try not to stress about any of it, bro. If you get caught up in all the regrets of what you can’t do, it’ll overshadow the joy in what you can. Just make it the best Christmas for Isley and Tucker that you can and enjoy the hell out of it,” I suggest.
“Yeah,” he mutters.
Isley emerges from the front of the gift shop with both arms loaded down with purchases.
The corner of Langford’s mouth lifts as he shakes his head. “Crazy woman.”
He goes to help his wife with her bags, and Taeli sets hers in the back of the truck and turns to me. She wraps her arms around my neck.
“How about a romantic sleigh ride through the snowy pines with your wife and a dozen loud, sticky kids?”
