Before her, the holiday season was always hard for me. Christmas was my mom’s favorite, and after my dad died, I did everything I could to make sure it was special for her. I always helped decorate the tree and bake cookies. When I was older, I’d help Max hang Christmas lights on the outside of the house. We both loved how her eyes lit up every time she pulled into the driveway.
Since she passed, the holiday season has always felt like something I had to endure. But being with Morgan, and getting to experience the joy of the holidays again, has been like a wound healing over.
“I do have to go in,” she says with a sigh. She’d taken the whole week between Christmas and New Year’s off, but she’s on retainer for PR issues with the Rebels, and a “situation” came up. I’m pretty sure it’s related to MacIntyre, because AJ finally got tired of his shit and traded him to an expansion team. As soon as he got settled in his new city, he posted another video rant, this time about his former team. But of course, she can’t tell me if that’s what they’re meeting about. “I won’t be gone long, I promise. I just have a quick meeting with Tucker, and then I’ll be back.”
“I just got home last night,” I say, sinking my teeth playfully into her shoulder. “I’m needy.”
She shakes with quiet laughter and squeezes my forearm where it’s wrapped over her chest. “I miss you when you’re gone. But I can’t not do my job, especially with what they’re paying me hourly when things like this come up.”
“Baby, we donotneed the money.”
“Youdon’t need the money. I, on the other hand, am still paying off my business school loans.”
“Would you just let me take care of those?” This is already a tired argument, because I approach every situation—financial or otherwise—like this is a partnership. Like we’re already married.
“I appreciate that you keep offering,” she says. “But you know my answer. If I can’t make my business successful enough to pay off my own loans, then I shouldn’t have gone to B-school in the first place.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, kissing her neck. “You’re already successful. And wasting all that money on loan interest isn’tsmart. Let me pay them off, and then you can pay me back if you want, with no interest.”
Thehmmmmrattles around in her throat, and that, in and of itself, feels like a victory. She’s always flat-out said “no” in the past. I’m not offering because I want to have any kind of financial leverage over her. Her loans amount to a tiny fraction of my annual salary, and I just want to do whatever I can to lighten her load.
“Just think about it,” I say. “Also, your dad wants us to come over for dinner after my next road trip. Max will be in town, too.”
She laughs and says, “Their bromance is my favorite thing.”
I laugh at that too. Morgan wanted to spend Christmas with her aunt and uncle up in Maine, because she said it wouldn’t be Christmas if she didn’t see Lauren and Paige, plus she wanted to see her cousins’ kids open their gifts. Her dad was going too, like he always does, and we invited Max to come along because we didn’t want him spending Christmas alone.
I had no idea how rowdy the holiday would be. Lauren and Paige have three brothers, who all have kids, and they were all super into the holidays. As an only child my whole life, I’d never experienced anything like that, and that’s the only way I want to spend the holidays from now on—eventually, with our own kids, too.
The only thing more surprising than how much I loved being surrounded by overexcited kids who couldn’t wait for Santa to come, was how Max and Carson became instant buddies. They’d met before, of course, at the draft and games. But this was the first time they’d ever spent much time together. I don’t have anything good to say about Anne, especially since shestillhasn’t reached out to Morgan after their conversation before Thanksgiving. But one thing I will give her credit for is that she does have good taste in husbands.
“Why will Max be here?” she asks, still making no move to get up though she’s going to be late if she doesn’t.
“I think he’s considering an offer up here. The doctor who took over his practice really wants to move south, and it sounds like she’s interested in Max taking his old practice back and her taking over his practice in Miami.”
“That’s interesting,” she says. “Why does he want to be back here?”
Though I’d bet she already knows the answer, I say, “I think he’s realized he wants to be around family. Hopefully, someday, his grandkids too.”
“Hmmm.” It’s an acknowledgement without a commitment, which is fine. She’s not ready for kids and I’m not in a rush. But when I do finally have children, I want it to be with her. I want what I thought I was going to have all those years ago—the chance to be a great dad. But this time it won’t be because the situation is thrust on me and I’m trying to make the best of it. It will be a choice, and one I’ve only ever wanted to make with her.
She rolls over, facing me, and her eyes rake up from my bare chest to my face. She runs her hand along the beard I keep short just for her...until playoffs, at least. Because with the way we’re playing this season, there’s no way we’re not making the playoffs. The team is confident about that. We talk about the Cup as if it’s ours for the taking. And it just might be.
Morgan leans in, kissing me quickly before saying, “I have to go shower or I’ll be late.”
I pull the covers back and prop myself up on my elbow. “I’ll help you.”
Her hand is on my chest, and she’s laughing as she pushes me onto my back. “No way. I’ll be even later than I already am if you get in that shower with me.”
“It’smyshower,” I say, and I can’t contain my smile, “and I’ll get in it if I want.”
“I’m locking the door while I get ready. The sooner I go to this meeting, the sooner I’ll be back. We have today and tomorrow together, then your game tomorrow night, and New Year’s Eve, before you leave again.” She kisses the bridge of my nose before she springs out of bed and rushes to the bathroom.
I don’t chase her, because I don’t actually want to be the reason she’s late for a meeting with Tucker Hartmann. Unlike my younger days as a player, I try not to piss off management, especially not the CEO of the team, whose signature is on my paychecks.
I lay in bed for a while with my hands clasped behind my head, staring up at the ceiling as I think about how lucky I am that our game schedule allows us to be home for New Year’s Eve this year. When the shower turns off, I sit up, looking around for my sweats. I have no idea where our clothes were discarded last night—per usual, it was before we made it to the bed. I’m tempted to just go get Morgan her coffee naked, but now that it’s winter, it’s a bit cold for that.
I find them wadded up on a chair across the room and have just pulled them over my hips when Morgan gasps from the other side of the bathroom door.
