Page 134 of As the Years Pass
The house is quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes in the very early hours of the morning. I don’t move yet. I just lie here and listen—to the slow rhythm of Emmet’s breathing next to me. His arm is draped over my waist, warm and firm, and it takes everything in me not to wake him up just so I can see him smile.
This is our first Christmas morning together. And the first time I’ve had Judy and Ian on Christmas since Leslie and I split up. It’s hard to believe that I could be so lucky.
The kids had asked what I wanted for Christmas, and I told them nothing because I was getting everything I wanted. Theyprobably thought I was being cheesy, but I was being so serious. My kids and the man I love, together on the most special holiday? I couldn’t ask for more than that. I don’t need to. I truly have everything I want, right under this roof.
Though, I will say, it would have been nicer to have moved prior. The house is mostly empty—boxes stacked in corners, walls bare except for a few stray hooks where photos used to hang. We’re moving in two weeks, so I didn’t bother decorating the place like I usually would. But I couldn’t leave it completely empty. From here, the sparkling lights from the Christmas tree in the living room make shadows dance along my door. It’s sweet and comforting.
The tree is fake, older than both kids combined, and one leg has to be propped up by a book to stay straight—but it’s covered in lights, glittery ornaments, and those awful paper chains Judy insisted we make together. Emmet hung a silver star on top and said it looked like it belonged in a department store window, even if it may fall over at any second. It’s his tree, the same one he had when he was a kid, the same one so many kids shared through the years. It was one of the gifts his father gave us for the holiday, and nothing has ever meant more. Sentiment is important to me, especially when it comes to family.
My kids though? They care more about what’s under the tree, which is way too many presents.
Judy’s been eying them all week, asking a new question every day like I wouldn’t notice her shaking the boxes when she thought I wasn’t looking. Ian just cares that there are dinosaurs on the wrapping paper and that Santa will bring more gifts on Christmas morning—which he did. We told them the gifts under the tree prior were from me and Emmet, while the other stuff that comes is from Santa. I like the idea of my kids having an imagination and believing in Santa. I get it’s not for everyone, but this is how I’m raising my kids—and Leslie agrees of course.The big gifts came from me and Emmet, while smaller things come from Santa. Things like toys or pajamas. I’d hate for my kids to go to school and brag about how Santa got them a new iPad (their gift from Emmet, by the way) while other kids only got blocks or puzzles because I understand not every family can afford expensive gifts.
Emmet stirs beside me.
“Time is it?” he mumbles, voice hoarse with sleep.
“Almost six,” I whisper. “Too early?”
He groans and buries his face in my shoulder. “They’re gonna come in yelling, aren’t they?”
“I give it ten minutes.”
He chuckles. “Worth it.”
God, he’s beautiful in the morning. Hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep, and somehow always warmer than the blankets. I don’t say it out loud, but I think about how right this feels. How long I went pretending I didn’t want this. That I didn’t miss him.
Waking up with him like this? On Christmas morning? It feels like getting everything I never let myself wish for.
And right on cue, nearly ten minutes later like I said, tiny feet pound down the hall.
“Daddy! Daddy, is it time?!” Ian’s voice is loud with excitement as he leaps onto the bed.
Judy stands behind him, clutching a stuffed animal in one arm and looking only slightly more composed than her brother. “Can we do presents now? Please?” she begs, looking from me to Emmet. He sits up and rubs his eyes.
“Morning, monkeys.”
“We’re not monkeys!” Judy shouts.
“Oh, right. Sorry. I totally forgot.” Emmet laughs.
“You did not. We don’t even look like monkeys,” Judy argues.
“Ian sure is acting like one,” I comment as I watch him jump up and down on my bed.
Judy judges him silently, but then smiles and gets on the bed too.
Emmet and I sit up, giving them more room.
“You know this is anonly todaything, right?” I say.
“Yep!” they both shout.
Judy jumps for another minute before plopping down between me and Emmet.
Of course, both of them were thrilled when I explained that Emmet and I were together, because he’s amazing and they love him. He’s so good to them, and I’m glad they see it.
We started with him sleeping over for a night, then two, and then he just never left.
