I’m very familiar with the feeling.
Already, we are not starting on the right foot. She could have used her key or walked right into the home she grew up in, but she chose to ring the doorbell then realized her error.
She is bouncing on her feet, attempting to create warmth in her body, and I can see that she is visibly nervous. Looking forward, I see my breath in the air because it is freezing.
“Want to know a secret?” I say, trying to distract her.
“What?”
“I actually kind of like the holidays.”
She stops mid-bounce, and her eyes whip to the side. An angelic smile spreads on her rosy cheeks. “Really?” she coos.
“Let’s not make a big deal about this.” I’m trying to downplay it, but there is some truth in what I said.
“What is it that you like? Is it the songs, the cookies, or maybe a stocking full of coal? Did your parents do that?”
My eyes grow big. “No. Did yours?”
“Oh gosh no.” Phew.
“I guess it’s the atmosphere. Everybody is in a good mood and there’s special food. We always used to get little gifts for every night of Hanukkah. Socks or… well, more socks.”
She grabs my arm. “Yours too?” It’s working. She seems to be calming down and forgetting the hour ahead.
I can’t help it because it seems that I’ve unlocked a few memories that brighten my mood. “Ties too.”
“That sounds like something an old married couple would give to one another,” she remarks humorously.
“I would keep that thought to yourself. Not sure parents want to be reminded of age. Anyway, we would also have those donuts. The sufganiyot. My dad is always proud when he manages to remember how to say it. There is a great bakery in the north suburbs that makes the best. Then there is also the fact that we always had a train around the Christmas tree.”
“My dad does the same. Okay, so you kind of secretly might like the holidays.”
I roll a shoulder back. “Nah.”
Silence fills the air, and for a few beats, we are lost in one another’s eyes as our smiles fade. “Asher… the holidays are about family, and next year we will have a baby with us.”
“Yeah… yeah, we will.” The words are flooded with affection.
The door whooshes open which breaks our attention, and Piper Arrows opens the door, slightly perplexed. “What’s with the doorbell?”
Gracie is quick to walk into her mom’s arms for a hug. “Sorry, I’m out of sorts. Merry Chrismukkah.”
Her mom’s eyes meet mine as she wraps her arms around her daughter. She knows who I am, but now she has to see me through a different lens. The one where I’m the father of her grandchild… the guy who knocked her daughter up, but I prefer the classy option.
Gracie pulls away, and just like Gracie said, her mom is still smiling at me. “It’s good to see you. Crazy news but wonderful.”
My arms missile out with the flowers. “Here. These are for you. The Flower Jar had only a few left, so ignore the dying leaf in the back.”
She assesses the plant and shrugs. “It’s the thought that counts, and besides, nobody will be looking at the flowers once Hudson finds out about the news.”
“Joy,” I say dryly.
We enter the home, and it’s as meticulous as one would think. The interior reminds me of my parents’ house in Lincoln Park, except this place is modern and open. I’m also nearly blinded by a giant Christmas tree covered in gold and a train going around at the base.
“That is a monster of a tree,” I mutter to Gracie.
“If my mom asks, my great-grandmother’s menorah is the star of the show,” she says under her breath.
