Page 17 of Dad Bod Secret Santa

The house feels colder than usual, almost empty, though I know the chill is mostly in my mind. The lights on the Christmas tree blink softly, casting a warm glow over the room, their reflections shimmering on the windows like tiny stars. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of fresh pine and a hint ofpeppermint from a candle Wendy insisted on lighting before she went upstairs.

I pull out the rolls of festive wrapping paper from the closet and set myself up at the dining room table. I’ve always loved wrapping gifts, even though the wrapping is gone in milliseconds when you have a young daughter. Every gift has a piece of my heart in it, especially this year and the sweater for Hank.

I wrap Wendy’s presents first. A pair of socks with tiny reindeer prancing around, a cozy sweater in her favorite shade of purple, a sketchbook with thick, blank pages that I know she’ll fill with her drawings. Watching my daughter’s eyes light up on Christmas morning is one of the best feelings in the world.

Wendy’s voice echoes in my mind.Are we getting something for Hank?Her question caught me off guard, though in hindsight, it shouldn’t have.

Wendy picks up on more than I realize. She notices subtle changes in me, even those I try to keep hidden.

As I wrap Hank’s gift, carefully folding the paper around the box, I find myself taking extra care. I smooth out the edges and press down each piece of tape with precision, ensuring every corner is crisp and neat. I want it to be perfect, even though I know that’s not something he would expect or even care about. Hank isn’t the kind of man who looks for polish or perfection; he appreciates things as they are. Maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable around him. I don’t feel like I have to hide or put on a show. I can just be myself.

I sit back, my hands resting on the wrapped gift, and imagine a different life—one where Hank and I are partners. I envisionChristmas mornings with him and Wendy and Vivian, all of us huddled around a tree, laughter filling the air as we exchange gifts. Not having a moment of silence and not wanting life any other way. I picture quiet moments after the girls are in bed, the warmth of Hank’s hand in mine, the heat of his body when we make love.

Without planning to, I whisper, “I think I’m falling for you.”

When I go to refill my wine, the bottle is nearly empty. Surely I didn’t drink a whole bottle? I barely feel tipsy, though I know I should go to bed soon. Tomorrow is Christmas Day, and I know Wendy won’t let me sleep past sunrise. It’s not a good time to have a wine hangover.

But I have one thing left to do. I pick up the greeting card I bought for Hank, tracing my fingertip over the spare design. Wendy suggested a card with glitter, but I quickly nixed that idea.

Thank you for everything.

All my love,

Maggie

I slip the card under the ribbon on Hank’s gift, then freeze. Am I being too forward? Before I can second-guess myself, I toss the card in the trash and grab another from the box we send to distant family.

Thank you for everything. We appreciate you.

Maggie and Wendy

There. That’s better.

Right?

CHAPTER 10

HANK

Somehow, I’m up before Vivian on Christmas morning, giving me time to fix a pot of coffee before the Christmas whirlwind begins. I set out her gifts while my coffee brews, ensuring everything’s perfect for my girl. As I finish my first cup, I hear her feet thumping down the stairs. In an instant, she’s in the room, eyes wide and shining.

“Merry Christmas, Dad!” She throws herself at me, wrapping me in a hug that almost knocks me over. The pure, unadulterated love of my daughter is a miracle of joy.

“Merry Christmas, Viv,” I say, pouring my love into the hug I give her.

We exchange gifts, and I love watching her happiness as she opens everything. When she opens the necklace I got her, her smile could light up the whole of Heartland.

“Dad, I love it,” she says, holding it up to the light. “Thank you. This is the best Christmas.”

I smile, warmed by her happiness, but as she finishes opening her gifts, I feel a hint of longing.

I miss Maggie and Wendy. The cabin doesn’t feel as warm without them here, and my heart yearns to hold Maggie in my arms again. My gaze lingers on the empty spot beside me on the couch, where Maggie and I sat, and I can’t shake the thought that having her here would make this Christmas even better.

Vivian catches me staring into space. “So…can we invite Wendy and her mom over?”

Sometimes, it seems like Vivian can read my mind, but she’s a perceptive girl and knows my moods. “Well, don’t you think they probably have their own plans?” Christmas wasn’t something Maggie and I discussed, and I have no idea if she has plans with friends or if they’re driving to see family somewhere.

Vivian raises an eyebrow at me, a look so knowing it makes me uncomfortable. “Oh, come on, Dad. You know they’d want to be here. You knowyouwant them to be here.”

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