Page 88 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

Mikey blewthrough the front door, red-faced with excitement as he carried an armload of Christmas presents. “Dad!” he screamed, beaming at me as I stood up from where I was sitting on the couch.

I hugged him, laughing. “Did you have a good time?”

“I went in the halfpipe!”

“Whoa.” My brows shot up. “Wish I could have seen that.”

“It wasawesome.”

I grinned and glanced up to see Melody carrying his bag through my front door. She placed it down next to our shoes and nodded at me.

“Say goodbye to your mom, buddy,” I told him.

Mikey whirled around and hugged Melody. She smiled softly as she combed her fingers through his hair. When they parted, my ex-wife met my gaze. “Did you have a good holiday?”

“Not really,” I answered.

Her smile was sad. “There’s always next year.”

We spoke for a few minutes, and then I watched her head back to the car and drive away. While I closed the door, I mulled over that sad smile. She hadn’t looked surprised, nor did she seem annoyed or bitter.

It looked like pity. Like resignation.

“Todd said he could sign me up for ski lessons next year with someone who can teach me how to do tricks. Can I, Dad?”

I joined Mikey in the living room and slumped down on the couch. “That depends,” I said. “Are Todd and your mom planning on renting another cabin at the ski resort?”

“I think so,” he said, pulling a remote control car out of his box of gifts.

I smiled at my son. “You haven’t mentioned those,” I said, nodding to the wrapped boxes under the tree.

Mikey shot me a mischievous smile, then crawled toward the presents to read the name tags I’d stuck on them. “They have my name on them.”

“Open ‘em up.”

I watched my son tear into his presents and couldn’t help the smile from spreading over my mouth. He shouted in excitement at the new video game, holding it above his head as he howled. The robotics kit that was supposed to be for kids three years older than him earned me an awed, silent stare. I laughed, and a bit of the coldness that had spread through my chest over the past few days began to dissipate.

We spent the day together, and I almost felt like myself again. That evening, as I shut the lights off downstairs and made my way to my bedroom, I paused at Mikey’s door and listened to his steady breathing. It was good to have him home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d given up too much by letting Melody have every Christmas.

I owed it to Mikey—to myself—to fight to heal the old, crooked wounds inside me.

Going through the motions to get ready for bed, I stared at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

And I thought of Lizzie.

The warmth in my chest from a good day with my son was a poor substitute for the feeling of being next to her. She’d opened my eyes to new possibilities, and I’d responded by being too aggressive and then pushing her away when things got tough.

I’d done her wrong.

And I wanted to fix it—I just didn’t know how.

New Year’sEve had never been my favorite holiday. It had always felt like the first glimpse of the finish line at the end of a marathon. I’d never felt the hope and possibility of the turning of the calendar page; I’d only felt exhaustion and relief at having made it through another holiday season.

This year wasn’t any different. I was wrung out and putting on a good face all through the day and into the evening, when I loaded Mikey up in the truck and drove to the Butlers’ place. Mrs. B opened the door and greeted us with wide smiles and tight hugs, then ushered us inside where we were promptly presented with sparkly party hats and drinks. I got a glass of champagne, and Mikey got one of bubbly grape juice. He ran off to join the pack of kids roaming the halls, and I went with Mrs. B to the living room where the adults had gathered.

My eyes scanned the guests, even though I knew she wouldn’t be here. I don’t know how I knew, but from the moment I’d stepped inside the house, I was certain I wouldn’t see Lizzie tonight. It was almost like I could sense her presence in the air; it was colder when she was away.

“Glad you decided to come,” Aaron said, clapping me on the back. I lifted my glass and clinked it against his, and Aaron squeezed my shoulder. “You’ll always be welcome here. You know that, right?”

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