The Magic of Mistletoe

“You guys have the heat on as if it were freezing.”

“It’s sixty-eight degrees outside,” Pablo countered with a shake of his head. “You forget our moms bundled us up at seventy degrees in the DR.”

“And yet you’re wearing chancletas with jeans?” Duke chuckled. “I heard Thanksgiving is going to be in the seventies.”

“Leave my flip-flops alone.” Pablo laughed, lifting his foot. “Anyway, you know that’s not what I meant. I’m just glad to see you’re back on your feet and looking at a quality woman.”

“So I’ve been staring?” Duke looked back at the angel in cream. Pablo was right; he had been away from the Dominican Republic for a while now. He forgot how much he missed a shapely woman with all the right curves in all the right places. This woman named Macy now stood with Monique, cooing over two-week-old baby Lucia. There was a maternal vibe coming from her that worried him. Most of the women he dated never lasted long if they started cooing over children. Duke could offer a woman jewels, trips, cars and other luxury gifts, but not a baby. A childhood illness had scarred him, prohibiting him from being able to give her a biological child. So why bother leading her on any further?

“Let’s just say that you’ve been staring so much you’ve got Monique wanting to play matchmaker. If I didn’t come over here to get you, I am sure she would have been printing out your wedding invitations.”

Matchmaking time, Duke thought with a wicked grin. “That doesn’t sound too bad. I think my best-friend-in-law has great taste.”

Pablo choked on his beer and looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. “What?”

“I’m serious.”

“You didn’t say that when she tried setting you up with her college roommate.”

The college roommate in question had had a unibrow and a questionable Adam’s apple. She was one of the five girls Monique shared a room with. Duke had agreed to go on that date sight unseen. Pablo spent the entire double date apologizing for the misfortune.

The two friends looked at each other, both realizing they had the same image in their minds. “At least this time I can see what I’m getting up front.”

“And at least this time I can tell you that she’s not like the women you’ve gone out with, Duke. This one is a nice family girl.”

Feigning hurt, Duke clutched his chest. “You wound me.”

“Mo will wound you if you hurt her.” Pablo slapped his best friend on the back playfully and led him across the room to where the woman in question was.

A few people glared at Duke. And then it dawned on him that the reason why this Macy wouldn’t look at him must be because she’d already heard the story of his outing Santa. Through a frozen smile, Duke leaned over to his friend. “So you don’t think that this lady heard about my Santa mistake on the morning news, do you?”

“Hell, who do you think was the first person to call me?”

“Ugh,” Duke groaned and stopped walking.

Pablo pressed the bottle of beer against Duke’s shoulder to push him forward. “Face the music. At least when Macy sees Lucia with her padrino, she won’t think you’re a complete ass.”

As godfather to Pablo’s first three children, Wellinson, Angel and Maylen, Duke knew that women held a soft spot for men who liked kids. Women blatantly hit on him whenever he took the children out to the park or to a game, slipping him their business cards or hotel key cards.

Growing up in Mao, a city in the Dominican Republic, Duke never realized he was poor. His father, Ramon, would say they were blessed. Christmas traditions were more like a big celebration with fireworks and lots of eating. When he got older and came to the States at eighteen, he realized that other people around the world celebrated completely differently from him. It was all about the commercialization of the season. And when it came to his godchildren, Duke was in sync with everyone else.

Duke fell back into step with Pablo. They crossed the hardwood floors of the living room, ignoring some of the eye-rolling that took place when Duke walked through. In the dining area, they found Monique beaming at the sight of them approaching. She opened her arms for him to hug. Duke reached for her and twirled her around. The tie of her black wrap dress flowed through the air as the curls of her blond hair bounced up and down.

“You look way too good to have just given birth two weeks ago,” Duke said. “The both of you look great.” He smiled down at baby Lucia. “Dios lo bendiga.”

“Oh, Duke, you always know what to say.” Monique giggled and batted her blue eyes at him.

Their playful banter always warranted a growl from Pablo. “Don’t listen to her,” Pablo grumbled miserably. “She passed over my head the minute she found out she was pregnant.”

Macy looked up from the baby for a moment. Duke noticed her light brown eyes and felt his breath get caught in his throat. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Duke took the opportunity to explain; hopefully his translation of a Dominican superstition might impress her. “Oh, you see, in the Dominican, if a woman passes over the top of her husband’s head, he will get all her morning sickness.”

Her perfectly manicured eyebrows came together in confusion. “I still don’t understand.”

“Most women carry the brunt of the morning sickness. Her body has to pass over his head. I mean, usually this happens when the man is sitting on a step and the woman will swing her leg over his head, like a high kick.” Duke winked and held his hand over the top of his head. Did he really wink? He wished he could take it back. She seemed so sophisticated. Did she smell like sweet coconut? Suddenly, his train of thought was lost, and he just stood there staring at her, willing the next words to come out of his mouth.