Page 172 of Miami Ice

“What did you get?”

“No, that’s going to be a surprise after presents,” Beckham says. “Shall I go get them?”

“Yes, please.”

I watch as he brings the presents over, putting mine next to me and a pile next to where he is sitting.

“Oh, before we start, please get a trash bag from the kitchen so we can dump all of this into recycling when we’re finished,” I say.

“You got it.” He goes into the kitchen, and Winston, seeing that Beckham is going to his favorite place, follows him. “Can I give Winston a treat?”

“Yes. It’s Christmas Eve. He can have an extra treat tonight.”

“Come on, Winston! Would you like a treat?” Beckham says.

Suddenly, Minnie, who has been curled up in a chair in the room, perks up. She jumps off the chair and heads into the kitchen, meowing loudly at Beckham.

“Oh, you know that word,” he says cheerfully. “You can have a treat, too.”

I watch as Beckham gives both of them treats, then retrieves a trash bag. He comes back into the den and sits beside me.

“I understand your family all opens gifts at the same time,” I say.

Beckham quirks a brow at me. “Did you give Sofia a twenty-page form to fill out? You know everything.”

“Don’t make me laugh!” I remind him. “It hurts!”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I really didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know, it’s okay,” I reassure him. “But you should know with Christmas I am very thorough.”

“Of course.”

“Now, in my family, we go from youngest to oldest. Ella is older than me by two minutes, so I always get to go first.”

“I’m agreeable to this change in tradition,” Beckham says. “Go first.”

“Thank you. I’m very excited to see what you got me,” I say. “Do you want me to open in any particular order?”

Beckham reaches over and hands me a package. I glance down at it. It’s a thin box, wrapped in shiny red paper with a crisp white bow. In fact, as I look at the stack of presents he has for me, they are all exquisitely wrapped.

“I did not wrap that,” he confesses. “A very nice lady at the boutique did.”

I untie the ribbon and unwrap the paper. Then I lift off the lid, and to my surprise, I find a pair of gingerbread socks. But when I lift them up, I realize they are slipper socks.

“This was a late addition to the present pile,” Beckham says. “They’re slipper socks. With grips on the bottom.”

“Beckham! This is so thoughtful,” I say happily.

“You aren’t mad I got you safety slippers as one of your presents?”

“I’m not mad at it,” I say, teasing him. “In fact, I love them. Thank you.”

And I do love them. I love the sentiment behind them and the fact that he found these today when he went out to get stuff for dinner tonight.

I open a larger box, and I find a Miami Manatees jersey with “BAILEY” embroidered across the back, which makes my heart skip a beat.

“I want to wear this right now. Will you help me?” I ask.

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