I untie the ribbon carefully and lift the lid. Inside, nestled in soft black tissue, is a leather apron unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Dark walnut brown, buttery soft to the touch, with gleaming brass hardware and the faint scent of new leather.
It’s perfect. Every stitch.
I run my fingers over the subtle initials pressed into the chest: JRC.
Elle straightens beside me, watching. “Check the inside,” she says softly.
I flip the apron and spot a tiny leather patch in a lighter shade, sewn just beneath one of the interior pockets. Burned into it are the words:
The best thing you ever built is us.
I can’t speak. I just stare at her. My jaw works as my heart does that stupid swelling thing it does whenever I realize, again, that somehow, she’s mine.
“Do you like it?” she whispers.
“I love it,” I manage. “I love you.”
Hannah wriggles beside me with a grin and hands me a large, flat, gift-wrapped object. “Okay, my turn. Open it!”
She practically vibrates with pride as I tear back the paper. It’s a sketch—framed, detailed, and done in pencil. My workshop, down to the grainy texture of the floorboards. But next to my bench and clamps and lumber stacks, there’s her play corner. All the books stacked in her crate, coloring pencils lined up on her desk next to some drawings. Her name is scrawled above it on the wall, penciled in block letters with a heart beside it.
I swallow the lump rising in my throat as I read the hand-written note tucked inside the frame on the bottom of the sketch.
You’re the best daddy. Thank you for helping me with my homework. I like it when you take me to the park. You showed me how to use a hammer. And you buy me whatever I want at the farmers market. Thank you for Elle. Love, Hannah.
I pull Hannah into my arms and hug her tight, nose pressed to the crown of her head.
“I love you, Hannah Banana. This is the best gift ever!”
She giggles. “Really, Daddy?”
“I'm so lucky to be your dad,” I murmur, my voice catching in my throat.
Elle smiles and picks up a gift from under the tree and hands it to Hannah. "It's your turn, Sweetie!"
Hannah takes the box and shakes it. "What is it?!" she exclaims.
"You'll never guess," Elle chimes in, her hands clasped together in anticipation.
Hannah rips away the wrapping paper, her excitement palpable as she opens the box. She reaches inside and pulls out a bright pink helmet, her name glittering in silver on the side.
“A bike helmet!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with excitement—until a frown crosses her face. “But I outgrew my bike.”
Elle glances at me, and I shoot her a quick wink.
“I know,” Elle says with a smile. “This is the helmet you’ll wear on your new bike!”
Hannah looks at me, her confusion still evident. “Daddy?”
I nod, grinning, already getting to my feet. “Wait right here.”
I dash toward the kitchen door that leads to the garage and return a moment later, pushing Hannah’s brand-new bike, a huge red bow tied neatly on the handlebars.
Hannah’s hands fly to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief, but she can’t suppress the excited shriek that escapes her lips.
“Thank you!” she screams, launching herself into Elle’s arms, sending both of them tumbling onto the rug. Elle holds her tightly, tears shining in her eyes.
I help Hannah climb onto the seat, and she grips the handlebars, her face set in concentration as she pretends she's flying down the road.
