“You didn’t have to,” he said.
I looked up at him. “I wanted to.”
“Thank you. Sometimes it still hits me,” Vaughn said.
“That’s because you loved him.”
He gave a slight nod.
“Maybe we can make this one of our new traditions. Every year, we’ll find all the Santa jams. Do you think he would’ve liked that?”
“I think he would’ve loved it,” I said. “Thank you for being understanding.”
“There’s nothing to understand. You had someone loving you before I could, and they will always have a space in your heart, just like I will.”
He kissed my cheek. “Yes. Just like you will.”
Chapter Fifteen
Vaughn
By the time Christmas Eve came around, I felt more like myself than I had in two years. Or maybe a new version, but certainly not a worse one. The counselor in me recognized that stepping back into the flow of life had been a big part of this, but the rest of me gave all the credit to Gunnar. The little who appeared suddenly, giving me joy again. He’d shown me all the gifts he got from his Secret Santa, and I showed him what I got from mine, taking care that he not know that I knew what I knew. And hoping he had not guessed who was giving him all the presents.
I’d crocheted the last stitch on the scarf the night before, and it now lay wrapped under the tree with other presents for Gunnar. Tonight, we were going to celebrate big Christmas, and I was going to tell him that I was his Secret Santa.
The first few gifts, the ones I’d gotten Hudson’s input on, were well-received, but the two previous days’ offerings…well, he was wearing them tonight. A holiday sweatshirt with a fuzzy teddy bear on the front and even fuzzier socks that matched. In this winter cold, I’d become mildly obsessed with keeping my little warm and cozy, and while I hadn’t wanted to give him anything specifically little—that would have given me away—everyone could do cuteness at the holiday season.
He settled on the sofa, the only light in the room coming from the fireplace, the Christmas tree, and a snowball-shaped bayberry candle. The scent reminded me of my grandparents’ home at Christmas, the old-fashioned fragrance a good match, I thought, for the beautiful tree decorations created by Gunnar and his friends. Every time I looked at the chains of popcorn and cranberry, the paper snowflakes and all the rest, my heartwarmed. I’d only known him for such a short time, yet this man who was also my best boy had found a home in my soul. He warmed the part of me that had been frozen for so long.
I closed my eyes and pictured Christmas not two years ago but three. We’d be very happy sitting by our designer tree, and that was fine for then. But just like I’d told all of my clients who experienced loss or holiday trauma, sometimes the past belonged just where it was. In the past. Acknowledged, but not lived in, because life would continue on whether we acknowledged it or not. Nearly two years were a blur because I’d been sad and just gone with that. I could forgive myself. It was a big loss and a shock at a time of the year we had high expectations for. My words had begun to sound hollow as I navigated grief I’d only known about from textbooks.
So, how was it that I was able to stand here in the middle of my living room so filled with joy? Some of it was likely that even though I hadn’t believed I was working through all of the pain, I was. I’d tried but felt as if I was swimming in seas too deep and too cold to survive. But Gunnar had been the pivot point, where I went from staring behind me with pain to looking forward.
There would be more. I knew grief came in waves and healing did too, but for now, I was able to see a future with Gunnar and my friends. I’d be a better counselor for it all, and though I’d never say losing my Bron was worth it, the flicker in the corner of my soul was a warm and steady glow. Gunnar bit into a cookie, eyes closing as he chewed, corners of his lips turning up. I could look at him all night and all day and never grow tired of his expressions.
He opened his eyes again. “Do you really like the tree?”
“I love the tree.” So much, I planned to donate the other ornaments in my attic to a charity shop right after the holidays. Someone else would no doubt enjoy them. “I never want any other kind of tree. Maybe we should make the party an annualevent. If you think Hudson and Scottie and any of your other friends would like it?”
“They would love it. Hudson said he was going right home to make cinnamon stars and snowflakes, and Scottie took pictures to show the others at the Little House. Everyone will want to come next year.”
I sat down next to him and reached down beside the couch where I’d tucked a special present. “Gunnar, there’s something you should know.”
“Please let me tell you a secret first?” He looked up at me, eyes dancing. “You’re going to be so surprised.”
“I am?” Kissing his forehead, I inhaled his warm, clean scent. “Then go right ahead. What do you want to say?”
“I have to show you.” He reached under the couch and pulled out a flat package wrapped in sparkly paper. “Here. There’s a card.”
“Intriguing.” I opened the envelope taped to the present and retrieved the folded card. Opening it, I read aloud, “To Vaughn, the daddy I didn’t know I loved until I became, Your Secret Santa.” Even though I knew already, the note undid me. My eyes filled and I hugged him hard.
“See? I knew you’d be surprised. Hah! It was hard sneaking around all this time and having to wait until Christmas Eve to tell you it was me, but Bridger said it was a rule.”
“Bridger, huh. He seems to be big on rules.”
“Is he? Hudson says he’s a pretty nice daddy.” Gunnar’s brow furrowed. “But I guess you never know how people like to be in private.”
“I don’t either, but…well, never mind. Want to open your present?”
