Page 105 of Cabin Fever Baby

“Oh.” She folded herself into the corner of the couch. “I’m game for that one.” Her eyes shone with excitement. My wife loved gifts.

I reached for the bag and the box I had for her.

“Oh, can you grab that gold one for me?”

“I get one this year.”

“Shut up. You’ve gotten one every year except the first.”

I sat beside her on the couch. “I got a gift then too. We just didn’t know about it for a few weeks.”

She snorted. “That’s right. See, you can’t bitch again.”

“Oh, I will.”

She pushed the bag into my lap. “Me first.”

“It’s heavy.”

“The first one is kinda business related.”

“Okay…” I dug into the paper and found a square of silver. When I pulled it out, I noticed the logo to YouTube. “What’s this?”

“Your channel hit one-hundred-thousand subscribers.”

“What?”

She laughed. “You think I videotape you all the time for my health? I mean, you are damn hot in that apron, sir. Which I just got a quote to sell by the way.”

I chuckled. “Ever the marketing guru.”

“It is my gift.” She took the award and set it aside. “We’re going to mount that baby in the kitchen. Now open the other one.”

The bag was heavy again. I dug inside and found an ornate frame with four quadrants. It was an illustration of Henry that I’d done when he’d turned one. Ocean had printed it out on canvas. There was another of Ocean from someone else. And one of the three of us. And one empty spot.

“Are you pregnant already?”

She laughed. “No. But I wanted to maybe goose you into trying. You beat me to it.”

“Who did these other drawings?”

“A local guy I met through Hadley. Jensen Turner is his name. He’s doing some illustrations of her pieces. He does commission work.”

“It’s amazing.”

Ocean tipped her head against my shoulder. “I know you can do it, but sometimes it’s nice to have someone else take on some of the duties.”

I kissed her forehead. “You do all the time, Angel.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She sat up. “Can I open mine now?”

“Yes.” She wiggled in her seat and made gimme fingers.

“Guess we were on the same wavelength.” I handed her the gold bag.

She dug out a canvas print of the three of us at the beach that summer. It had been my favorite candid photo when we visited her parents in Myrtle Beach. I’d converted it into an illustration, softening the beach behind us to show off my little family.

“Oh, Hudson. When the heck did you have time to do this?”

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