Page 34 of Fake Out Forever

“Well, I’m not your honey, but I am happy to see.” Deliah wipes her hands on a dish towel. “Sabrina and the boys will be here in a little while. I’m helping Maya get everything ready to build the gingerbread houses tonight. Look at you! Did you empty every store in the whole town?”

“Nah, just Hank’s General Store.” I carry the bags over to the kitchen table. “I’ll be right back with the rest.”

“The rest?” Deliah laughs. “This house will look like Santa’s Village pretty soon.”

“Is it festive?”

“Yes.”

“Does it feel homey?”

“Yes.”

“Does it feel Christmasy?”

“Yes, yes, it does.” Her eyes twinkle.

“Then it’s perfect,” I reassure her.

“Just like you.” She teases.

I give her a quick peck on the cheek, then hustle back to the garage. I still can’t believe how my life has changed. A year ago, I thought I would lose everything without having hockey as the mainstay of my life. But now? The cornerstone of my life is family. And Maya is my anchor.

“Please do not tell me my husband bought more Christmas decorations.” Maya’s fake-stern voice drifts through the garage door.

“Not me!” I call out. “Your mother ordered a bunch online! I’m just bringing the stuff in!” I hoist the rest of the bags out of the car.

When I walk back into the kitchen, my heart skips a beat. Maya is standing next to her mother, dressed in my favorite green flannel shirt, and our daughter, Holly, is on her hip.

“Fssss.” Holly’s little fists pump in the air.

“My angel.” I coo as I drop the bags and scoop her into my arms. “I missed you.” She snuggles into my neck. “I think she said dada.”

“She did not.” Maya giggles and rolls her eyes. “She’s only five months old, honey. She’s got a few months to go.”

“Humph.” I kiss Holly’s red curls. “I heard dada. Isn’t that right, Holly?”

“Fssss.”

“See?”

“Whatever you say, dear.” Still giggling, Maya rests her head on my shoulder. “How many trees did you buy?”

“Three.”

“Three? Why three?”

“Two for the living room and one for Holly’s room.”

“Honey, Holly does not need her own tree.”

“Of course she does. We’re starting our family traditions, remember?”

“I remember.” She wraps her arm around my waist. “But what if we have more children?”

“Then they’ll each get their own tree. Simple.” I look over at Deliah. “Would you like to help decorate the trees?”

“You should do that with your family.” Deliah dabs her eyes.

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