After an hour of pumping iron, I shower and grab a few things at the mall for Steve, Laurel, and the kids. But I meander for a long while, trying to find something that will make my wife’s eyes light up. I find nothing special.

Finally, I admit defeat and reach out to the one person I know who can help.

“Nathan?” Jen answers on the third ring, sounding surprised.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Back at you. Izzy okay?”

“Isabella is great. She’s perfect, actually.”

“You’ve got it bad…”

I don’t refute her. For better or worse, she’s right. “It’s our first holiday together, and I don’t know what she enjoys during the season. Does she bake? Shop? Watch Hallmark movies? How can I make this the best Christmas she’s ever had?”

“Oh, um…” Jen sighs. “She doesn’t really celebrate.”

“What?” I’m not the most religious guy, but I always hit a Christmas Eve service, then enjoy a frosty Christmas morning with coffee, a big breakfast, and opening presents before a decadent dinner with my family. But it’s a time of peace, closeness, and joy. And Isabella doesn’t partake? “Why?”

“You don’t know?”

Clearly, I’ve overlooked a detail. “Sorry.”

“Her mom died on Christmas Eve five years ago.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. How did I not remember today was the anniversary? “Fuck.”

“I didn’t think she’d tell you. Somewhere in her head, she’s convinced that she should be over the loss by now. But every Christmas Eve, she holes up, eats crap, and hides until after the holiday.”

“What can I do? It doesn’t sound like I can buy her anything that will make her happy.”

“You can’t. My suggestion? Don’t let her be by herself. The day her mom died, I was already away with my parents for Christmas. To this day, I regret not being there for her, especially because her dad never showed up. She spent the holiday at the funeral home, sobbing alone.”

Jesus, that makes my heart wrench. Fuck work. I can catch up later. My wife needs me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m only telling you this because I think you care about her. And I think she’s falling for you. If you’re serious about wanting to keep her—and keep her happy?—”

“I am.”

“Then just…be with her. Surround her. Care about her. Help her start a new tradition besides crappy store-bought cookies and Die Hard.”

“Hey, Die Hard is a Christmas movie.”

“No, it’s not. Silly man,” she teases. “My point is, she doesn’t do any of the things normal people do for Christmas because she never really got the chance. Even her dad abandoned them a decade ago, shortly before the holiday season. They had no money, and she was just a kid. Heck, I don’t think they could even afford presents for years.”

“Jesus…” I hurt for her. Hell, I want to buy her the world. “I’ll do my best to fix it.”

“I don’t expect miracles, but if you really want to keep her?—”

“I do.”

“Then try to make this a happy time of year for her. It would go a long way to making her fall for you. I’ll send you something that just might help.”

Seconds later, a photo pops into my text that makes me smile. “This is great. I’m on it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Merry, merry!”

“Merry Christmas. When you get back in town, I owe you the best dinner money can buy.”