After losing her job and her girlfriend, it's time for Annie Abraham to admit defeat and move back in with her parents. She has hardly been back to her tiny Montana hometown since the unforgettable summer before her senior year of college, when she...
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I'm the first one awake on Christmas Day. That's always the way. I know better than to race into Mom and Dad's room like I used to do when I was a kid, though, so I head downstairs to make coffee. Cooper, who likes to sleep at the top of the stairs, follows me down, his heavy feet thudding on each step.
The Christmas tree looks stunning. I stand next to it, marveling at the work Mom and Liyo and I put into it as I sip my first coffee of the day, a good dose of caffeine and plenty of hazelnut creamer. I've only been here for eight hours but I already want to go back to Laurel's, to crawl into her arms and watch her children's faces as they open presents and play games. I love this day and I love my parents and I have always loved coming home to be here with them, and I'm beyond grateful for their generosity towards me this year, but ugh, I want to be with my girlfriend.
I've been down here for twenty minutes, texting holiday greetings to Liyo – who won't be up for a couple more hours, probably – when I'm joined by Nathan, who fixes himself a coffee before coming into the living room.
"Hey, Annie. Merry Christmas."
"Right back at you." I hold out my mug. It's more hazelnut creamer than it is coffee; I had to blast it in the microwave to heat it up. Nathan touches his mug to mine. "Where's Lily?"
"She's not a morning person." He checks his watch, twisting his wrist the same way Laurel does. "Give it another hour. Maybe two." He looks the tree up and down, taking in the years' worth of old decorations before he glances at me and asks, "Have fun last night? You were out late."
"We had to stay up until the kids were asleep before we could do their stockings," I say. It gives me a little thrill every time I can say we, every time I get to be a part of it. A part of Laurel's life, her parenthood.
"You're such a mom already."
"Speaking of which..." I put my mug down and face him fully, my arms folded. "I hear you offered up your sperm to my girlfriend."
Nathan chokes on his mouthful of coffee, coughing into his elbow as his cheeks cycle through every shade of pink and red and land on white. "Laurel made me promise not to tell you I said that. How the hell did you get her to spill that one?"
"We were drinking Mom's eggnog."
"Ah. Yeah, that stuff should be used by the CIA, it's strong enough to get anyone to spill their thoughts."
"Nathan. It's a very weird thing to say to the woman you knocked up with a child you don't want," I say. "So, what, were you like I have no interest in this child but if you want to make another, just gimme a cup?"
His pallor returns to a deep flush. "Not the cup part," he says. He can't look me in the eye. I can't keep a straight face.
"Oh my god."
"I was trying to be generous," he says. "I mean, it would make sense, right? If you wanted to have a baby together, might as well use a donor who's related to the one who isn't providing the egg."
