For the next hour, we work in harmony. Ethan mixes colors while I help Axel spread frosting with a butter knife.
“This one’s for you,” Axel says, holding up a lopsided star covered in blue frosting and way too many sprinkles. “Because blue is your favorite color.”
My throat closes up. “How did you know that?”
“Mr. Ethan told me. He knows lots of things about you.”
I glance at Ethan, who’s focused intently on turning white frosting green, a flush creeping up his neck. Even after years apart, he remembers.
When our fingers brush reaching for the same bottle of sprinkles, neither of us pulls away immediately. The simple contact sends electricity racing up my arm, and I hear Ethan’s sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be.”
Axel chatters happily between us, oblivious to the tension, and I find myself studying Ethan’s hands as he works. The samehands that once traced patterns on my skin, built fires, fixed broken things and made me feel safe.
The same hands I’d convinced myself had betrayed me.
What if I was wrong about everything?
“Do you think Santa will come this year?” Axel asks suddenly.
“You know,” Ethan says, “when I was little, my mom had a special rule about Christmas presents. She said Jesus only got three gifts from the Wise Men, so that’s all we needed too.”
“Really?” Axel looks skeptical.
“It’s true,” I add, catching on quickly. “And those gifts weren’t about how much they cost. They were about meaning something special.”
“Like what?” Axel asks.
“Well,” Ethan continues, “in our family, we got one thing we needed, one thing we wanted, and one surprise. It made each gift matter more.”
“And sometimes,” I say softly, “the best gifts aren’t things at all. Sometimes they’re promises, or time together, or a new beginning.”
“Like us being here together?” Axel asks.
“Exactly like that,” Ethan whispers, his eyes meeting mine over Axel’s head.
After Axel runs outside to play in the snow, I take a deep breath and turn to Ethan. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, the air thick with everything we haven’t said.
“I’ve made a decision,” I say, my hands trembling as I set down the frosting bowl. “About Axel. I’m going to retain guardianship.”
Ethan goes very still, his eyes searching my face. “Cassidy—”
“I know it’s not what I planned, but he needs stability. He needs someone who—”
“That’s generous of you,” Ethan interrupts, his voice controlled. “Making room in your life for him like that. But I’ll be raising my son.”
“Your son? Really? Where was that paternal instinct for the past seven years? You’ve been a deadbeat father, Ethan. Axel has been living in squalor, being hit by Britney, apologizing for existing, and where were you? You have money now, clearly. You could have fought for custody, could have—”
“And where the fuck were you?” Ethan fires back. “You’re his aunt. You knew your sister was using. You knew she was unfit. But you stayed away.”
“Because I was pregnant with our child and lost it the same day she announced she was pregnant with your child!”
“What!”
My mouth opens and closes. “I... we were going to have a baby, Ethan. I was going to tell you about it on Christmas morning. But I found you in bed with her?”
