Something Great

Chapter 6

The next day, I am awakened bright and early by a very eager 4-year-old, who barely manages a "Mommy, mommy! It's Christmas!!" before she dashes down the stairs. I really wish her enthusiasm was catching. Ugh. Coffee. I need coffee. Dragging myself out from under the covers, I flinch as my bare feet hit the icy floor. Throwing on my robe, I run a brush through my hair quickly and head towards the door to catch up with Emily. Walking out into the hallway, I almost collide with Patrick, who looks just as exhausted. As I look at him curiously, accustomed to his normal noon wake up time, he simply says, "Who can resist an excited little one on Christmas?" Fair enough. Once downstairs, I start brewing some coffee, Patrick whips up a traditional Irish breakfast (show off), and Emily finally gets to tear into her gifts.

While I love seeing the joy on her face, the experience is bittersweet, with an obvious piece missing. Like an elephant in the room, I can't escape the fact that this is our first Christmas without Jacob. I find myself wanting to take the photos that Jacob would've been after, to do and say the things he would've said, to make the same jokes, to somehow distract Emily from acknowledging her missing daddy. But then I realize that I'm not being fair to her. I owe it to her to help her start making OUR memories, separate from Jacob. I can't allow her experiences to be somehow haunted by Jacob's ghost. So, I make the choice to let go, at least for today, and live in the moment. It may not be a perfect Christmas, but it's put a smile on my little girl's face, and that's all that matters.

As Emily plays with her gifts, Patrick and I spike some eggnog with brandy, and settle in on the couch for a lazy day of watching "A Christmas Story" on repeat. I tell Patrick he'd look really adorable in that bunny suit. His only response is to throw me an epic stink eye. Hauling myself off the couch, I head into the kitchen for some water and hear my cell phone beep from the counter. Grabbing it on my way to the fridge, I look down at the screeen...and almost drop the phone. My fist flies up reflexively to my mouth and I bite down viciously on the knuckle to keep from squealing. I have a text. From Harry. Holy shit.

Harry: Hey, Happy Christmas!

I had convinced myself that his parting words yesterday were nothing but lip service, that he would never have any inclination to contact me further, and that I was just a momentary distraction. Now, I've had no time to prepare and am currently staring at my phone dumbly. Pull it together. What do I say? "You too!" seems boring and predictable. My hands are shaking. Fuck. All the while I have to keep repeating to myself that he's just being friendly, polite. That this is not "a thing" of any kind. I decide to just go with it.

Me: And to you! Did you enjoy your first Vegas Christmas? Are you sure you can drive in this weather?

There. Play it cool. Witty, but not trying too hard. I pat myself on the back for a job well done.

Harry: I don't know, this snow is really coming down! I may need you to come rescue me and keep me warm ;-)

I grin stupidly at his response, but then roll my eyes. He's such a shameless flirt.

Me: That depends, how do you define "keeping you warm"?

Harry: Well, that depends as well unfortunately...

A moment or two passes and I'm staring anxiously at my screen. Depends on what. My phone vibrating makes me jump.

Harry: What are you wearing right now?

Cheeky fucker. I've got something for him.

Me: Hiking boots and a parka. You?

Hehe. Natalie = 1, Harry = 0.