“Not yet, but he was excited for this. He’ll be here.”
I’ve been trying not to let myself get worked up over the possibility of Dad showing up for his first Christmas with our family. He hasn’t given me any reason to doubt him in the six years since he showed up at my doorstep to apologize.He’s been sober. He hasn’t gambled or gotten into trouble with the law. He even has a new wife, who is lovely, but there’s still a part of me that recognizes how much is at stake now if I let him in again.
Lauren must be a mind reader because she wraps her arms around me, whispering, “He’s going to be here, and it’s going to be great. Don’t let his mistakes make you doubt his victories over the past several years. Remember how great it is to let all that go?”
I nod. She’s right. Moving on felt amazing. It has allowed me to start building a relationship back with my dad, one more like what we used to have when he took me to OSU football games, but it’s hard not to let the doubt creep in every once in a while.
More people flood into our home while Lauren and her mom set the table for brunch. Charlie pulls me into a bro hug while his two-year-old shoves himself in front of me, trying to grab my attention. “Uncle Jax, look what I got today!”
He holds up a toy firetruck, his green eyes aglow.
It’s his toothy grin and childlike innocence that ground me again, ridding me of the doubts I’ve had. Even if my dad doesn’t show up today, I’m still incredibly blessed. Never in a million years would I have expected to have such a beautiful life with an amazing wife and the sweetest children, surrounded by loads of family who love us.
“Wow, look at that!” I crouch to his level. “Where’s your mama and sister?”
“Mama’s at the café finishing up the dessert with Isa.”
“Is she making something good?”
He crosses his arms. “Mamaalwaysmakes good desserts.”
“Of course.”
As the table fills with delicious food, Lauren attempts to wrap her arms around me, which is made difficult by her growing belly.
“This one is going to be a boy. I just know it.” I rub her belly gently.
We learned the sex of the baby for our first two kids, but with the third, we decided we wanted to wait. It’s been torturous not knowing and a constant point of playful banter between the two of us.
“I still think it’s going to be a girl. Bella has been following me around again just like she did when we had Addie.” Lauren gestures to the chocolate mutt at her feet.
“Bella hasn’t stopped following you around since before we got her. That dog fell in love with you at puppy yoga. You have all the pictures and videos in the world to prove it.”
She laughs. “Maybe, but I still have a feeling it’s a girl.”
The ring of the doorbell interrupts us, and I zip toward the door. It has to be Dad. Everyone else is here. My heart is pounding in my chest, and as soon as I open the door, seeing him with his arms full of presents and a smile on his face, I feel it grow three sizes more. My dad is celebrating Christmas with us again. He’s sober, and he came through on his word. It’s amazing how many things have fallen into place for us.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know you told me not to bring presents, and I really tried to, but I couldn’t show up empty handed. It was a scramble to wrap these up last minute.” He leans in toward me, whispering, “I found a homemade birdhouse kit that Addie will love. We can build it together and look at the birds whenever I come to visit. And you know I had to get Bennett avery soft”—he emphasizes the word knowing that Lauren will freak out if she overhears—“football. He’s not too young to get him started on his rise to stardom.”
“He might not want to play football.” Lauren holds out a hand. “Maybe he’ll be into something safer, like no sports at all.”
I chuckle, kissing her on the forehead before turning back to Dad. “They’re going to love them. Thank you. I’m happy you’re here.”
“Me too.”
I help Dad and his wife set their gifts under the tree and then we join everyone at the table, saying a quick prayer before digging into the delicious food in front of us.
“Hey, Bennett, has your mama showed you how we used to make Santa pancakes?” Mr. Rhodes asks his grandson.
Bennett shakes his head, and Mr. Rhodes quickly takes it as his sign to show the kid how to tear the pancakes apart, decorating them with fruit and syrup.
“Dad, we’re trying to teach him good table manners, not how to pull apart his food at the table,” Lauren chides.
“Come on! He loves it. Bennett has plenty of manners. Right, kiddo?”
“Right!”
“I want Santa pancakes too,” Addie insists.
“Papa.” Mom addresses Mr. Rhodes by the nickname we’ve been using to keep him separate from our son. I love that we decided to name our little boy after Mr. Rhodes. He’s a wonderful man who has played a role in raising both Lauren and me, but it got confusing real quick to have two Bennetts running around Copper Hill. “Please tell me you’re participating in the bake-off later. I want your creativity on my team.”
“No way, I want Dad!”Charlie insists.
The table erupts into chaos as everyone argues over who gets to be on a team with whom, and amidst the raised voices and laughter, Lauren and I meet each other’s gaze. I can already tell she’s thinking the exact same thing as me. We made it.
We have everything we had ever dreamed of: the big family breakfasts, her dad here to teach our children bad habits, and a family we love who wants to carry on holiday traditions with one another. We have it all.
