Page 103 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

Leo nodded yes. “I’ll never sync my phone and computer again.”

“I know Leo may’ve had some scandals, but you have to admit an online hookup and fake boyfriend pales to computer hacking and information theft. That’s a real scandal,” I said, eager to get this point across. Leo didn’t have scandals. He just had a weird dating life.

Maria nodded in agreement. “Dusty, what are you most looking forward to for your first Sourwood Christmas?”

“I’ve loved being here for the holidays. Everyone is so festive and cheerful. Maybe I’ll get Leo to read meThe Night Before Christmastonight.”

The kids were with their mom for Christmas Eve. We had the house to ourselves to enjoy our long winter’s nap. Except without the napping.

* * *

Leo hadthe whole Single Dad’s Club contingent over for a Christmas day feast. A thick dusting of snow had covered Sourwood anew with white beauty overnight. The kitchen was all abuzz with roasted chicken, rosemary garlic potatoes, and sauteed green beans while Christmas pop hits played out from my phone. It was a very “God bless us, every one” vibe.

Leo treated meal prep as a plank in his platform, rolling out a whole plan for Christmas meal perfection. The only thing thwarting his efficiency was his co-cook, who kept hugging him and kissing him and pinching his cute butt whenever they crossed paths in the kitchen.

Sorry, very not sorry.

“Kids, have you set the table yet?” Leo called out.

No response.

I put my hand over Leo’s chest to stop him from going into the living room. “I’ll handle this.”

It was another step forward in my mission to be more dad-like. The un-fun part of being a father. Lucy and Ari already saw me as an uncle, so I wasn’t coming to this cold.

I pushed through the swinging door to the dining room, where an empty dining table sat, then onto the living room, where the kids were sitting next to the Christmas tree playing with their luxurious Christmas toys. Lucy had gotten a camera while Ari was in the zone, thanks to his noise-canceling headphones. When I was their age, I got a Monopoly game board for Christmas that my parents had picked up from Goodwill. Leo explained that he and his ex-wife had both chipped in for one big gift each for the kids.

“Hey,” I said to two kids very much in the zone.

It took them a few seconds to realize I was in the room and talking to them. Ari pulled off his headphones sheepishly.

“Your dad asked you to set the table.”

“We will,” Lucy said.

“What’s stopping you from doing it now?” Leo told me to hold my ground. Especially at this age, kids were like expert cross-examiners, ready and eager to break down your logical argument.

“People aren’t coming for a little while. We’ll do it, Dusty. We promise.” Lucy gave me a teacher’s pet smile, which nearly threw me off my fledgling game.

“Your dad—wewould like you to do it now. Get it out of the way rather than rush later.”

“It won’t take that long,” Ari said.

“So you can do it now.” I sat on the couch arm and decided to take the good cop approach. “I’m trying to look out for you. If your dad goes into the dining room and sees the table not set, he’s gonna go ballistic. I know that it’s not Christmas unless someone ends up in tears, but I don’t want it to be you two.”

They looked to each other, their twin minds communicating in some advanced way, before giving me the green light head nod. They got up and went into the dining room.

Another parenting challenge aced. Well, B-plussed. I’d get better about putting my foot down in the future. Promise.

* * *

Mitch wasthe first guest to arrive with his daughter, Ellie, and her boyfriend, Tim, in tow.

Or rather, fiancée.

“Holy diamond ring, Batman!” I said to the rock on his daughter’s finger.

“Tim proposed this morning,” she squealed. Ellie was a big, professional lawyer, but never underestimate the power of love and jewelry to reduce grown adults to little kids.

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