“I’ll handle David,” she said. “You just show up. That’s all I want.”
He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Okay. We’ll come.”
Laura beamed. “Good. Now, let’s get those gifts wrapped. You can use my home, so Brogan doesn’t see what you got him. And don’t you worry about your uncle. He’s bowling with his friends. I’ll drive you home after.”
Archie sent Brogan a quick text:
Hey, change of plans. Wrapping gifts at Aunt Laura’s. She’s driving me home. All good. ??
He looked up and saw Aunt Laura watching him with that soft, maternal smile. Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Aunt Laura’s car smelled like cinnamon and peppermint, and Archie couldn’t tell if it was a holiday air freshener or just her general vibe. Either way, it was comforting. She hummed along to the radio as they pulled into her driveway, the front porch already glowing with twinkle lights and a wreath that looked like it belonged in a magazine.
“Grab those bags, sweetheart,” she said, popping the trunk.
Archie hauled out the shopping bags—two of them nearly splitting at the seams with gifts and rolls of wrapping paper. Then he followed her inside. Her house was warm and smelled like vanilla and pine. The Christmas tree in the living room was stunning, with gold and cranberry ornaments, ribbon cascading like a waterfall. It made him pause for a second, just to take it in.
They dropped the bags by the couch, and Aunt Laura disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Just like his mom used to make.
Archie took a sip and closed his eyes. “This is perfect.”
She smiled, settling beside him. “Did you send your dad a card this year?”
“Yeah,” he said, curling his fingers around the mug. “Put some money on his books, too.”
She nodded and then tilted her head. “Did you write him a note?”
Archie hesitated. “No. Just signed my name.”
Laura said nothing at first. She just stood, walked over to the little writing desk by the window, and came back with a piece of thick, cream-colored stationery and a pen with a gold clip.
“Write him something,” she whispered, handing them over. “Something loving. Even if it’s short.”
Archie stared at the paper for a second, then nodded. He set his mug down, took the pen, and wrote.
Dear Dad,
I know we haven’t talked much lately, and maybe that’s on both of us. I don’t always know what to say, and I’m not sure you’d want to hear it, anyway. But it’s Christmas, and I figured maybe this year, I’d try.
I hope you’re doing okay. I hope you’re warm. I hope you’re safe.
I sent some money for your books. Please get yourself something good. Maybe something sweet. You always had a thing for those butterscotch candies.
I’m doing all right. I’ve got someone in my life now. His name’s Brogan. He’s kind. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel like I matter. I think you’d like him if things were different.
Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m thinking of you. I hope you know I don’t hate you. I’ve been angry, yeah. But I still love you. I always will.
Merry Christmas.
Love,
Archie
He folded the letter carefully and handed it to Aunt Laura. She took it as if it were something precious.
“I’ll make sure it gets to him,” she said.
“Thanks,” Archie murmured, voice a little tight. He cleared his throat and reached for his hot chocolate again, needing something warm to hold onto.
