Page 41 of Merry with a Single Dad

We stayed quiet as we finished our midnight snack. We didn’t need any more words. As it had been many times before, the comfort of being together was comfort enough.

Christmas Eve magic was upon us.

Hudson was tucked in bed, waiting for Santa to come.

We’d peeked in on him just as he closed his eyes. Try as he might, he fell asleep before the reindeers’ hooves hit the roof.

I took a moment to soak everything in. My family was here. So was the woman I loved.

And tomorrow, we’d celebrate the first of many more Christmases to come.

The festive glow of the twinkling lights, the faint aroma of pine from the tree, cinnamon-scented candles, and hushed laughter coming from my parents and sister. Yes, this was the kind of magic I loved about Christmas.

I picked up my dad’s old pair of boots and thought it would probably be the last year I’d do this. Hudson was old enough to know the truth about Santa, but I loved the memories I had from every other year I’d done this exact same thing.

I hoped he’d amuse me with his continued belief but knew he might be “too old” to pretend anymore.

“Chris, you’re being ridiculous,” Savannah said from the kitchen. “Of course, he knows Santa’s not real.”

I stuck my tongue out at my sister. “One more year. We’re in a new house. I want it to be special. It’s tradition.”

Emily’s eyes sparkled as she walked to me. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. “I think it’s sweet,” she said. “And I think you look really sexy in your Santa hat.” She poked the fuzzy white ball hanging over my forehead.

“Thanks.”

She looked more beautiful than anyone had the right to look on a cold December night even if she was my sister’s twin, dressed in matching pajamas.

“It’s gotta be perfect,” I said, crouching down to dip the boot into the baking soda-and-pepper mixture.

“I think you do this more for you than for Hudson,” Savannah said. “You’re a big kid, you know that?”

I grinned up at her.

She rolled her eyes as I motioned for her to get out of my way. Starting at the fireplace, I pressed and then lifted each boot, leaving a perfect imprint on the carpet.

“You’re sure that’s not going to ruin the carpet?” Emily asked.

“Yep. Done this same thing every year since?—”

Everyone knew why I stopped. Kayla. I started doing this the year she passed away. It was something we’d talked about doing when Hudson got big enough to understand who Santa was. And when we lost her, it was the one thing I could do at Christmas to make sure she was still with us.

“I’m almost done,” I said, more than halfway to the tree.

“You’re pretty amazing at this whole dad thing,” I said.

“Seriously, Chris,” Savannah cut in, “Hudson’s going to lose his mind.”

Before I could reply, my parents came rushing in, arms full of brightly wrapped gifts. “Apparently, you all got on Santa’snicelist.”

“We get on it every year, Mom,” Savannah said.

“Jesus, Mom,” I said.

She giggled. “Yeah, I might’ve gone a little overboard.”

“You?” Dad asked, raising an eyebrow. “No way.”

Mom stuck her tongue out at him.

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