“Listen, about the kids at school.”
Adam had spent a long time thinking about the situation the night before and had come to a conclusion that satisfied him. Somehow, snugged tight in Wes’ arms, everything had seemed less galling. In fact, when Adam told Wes the whole story, complete with Gus’ Martin Luther nailing the ninety-five theses of Why Santa Obviously Doesn’t Exist to the door, Wes cracked up.
“I want you to let them believe whatever they believe about Santa. No, wait. Listen,” he said as she started to open her mouth. “You don’t know what everyone’s situation is, or what they do at home. Some kids like to believe in magic and Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy because it makes them happy, just like science and truth make you happy. It’s not okay for you to force your beliefs on anyone—period.”
Gus wrinkled her brows.
“Yes, baby, some people think science is a belief. So if there are kids who want to talk about it with you and they’re okay with Santa not existing, then fine. But it’s not your place to try and convince anyone if they want to believe. This is really important. I need you to promise me. You won’t try and force your beliefs on anyone.”
“Okay,” Gus sighed. “I won’t.”
* * *
Adam had extracted one more promise from Gus when he dropped her off at school—this one a pinkie promise, that most sacred of vows—not to argue about Santa. And he considered it a good sign that he didn’t get any phone calls during the day, either from irate parents or from Gus’ principal.
Just before he finished work, though, River texted, NBD but text me when you can.
At Adam’s expression, Marie waved for him to go, so Adam called them back as he tidied up the shelves in aisle two.
“Is something wrong? Is Gus okay?”
“Dude, we need a code word that I’ll use if something is actually wrong. You raise my blood pressure every time you do this.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Adam said. “What’s up?”
“Just, there are a lot of packages on your driveway. Gus wanted to open them when we got home. She said you guys are famous now? I didn’t want her to, in case... I dunno. In case there was something weird in any of them. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Have I told you lately that you’re the best sibling in the whole world and that I appreciate you so much?” Adam said.
River made a predictably dismissive sound.
“Seriously, River. I could not be here without you.”
“Aw,” River said. They sounded pleased.
Suddenly Adam realized how close it was to Christmas and that he hadn’t discussed it with River yet.
“Do you need to be with the cats on Christmas, or can you come over?” Adam asked.
There was a pause, then River said, “Yeah? Really?”
Crushing guilt lodged in Adam’s stomach. He’d been so concerned about Gus and himself that he’d forgotten to invite River until now.
“Of course! I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you before now. I’ve been a little...”
He made a scattered gesture that River couldn’t see.
“No worries.”
“No, seriously. You’ve been here for me and I’ve been really self-involved. I’m sorry. I’m gonna do better. But of course I want you to come. And Gus would love it. Also, um, you know Wes...from across the street? He might come too.”
“For real?” They dropped their voice. “So it’s going well?”
Adam grinned into a tub of hex bolts. “So damn well.”
River’s voice was tender.
“I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks. So you’ll come, then?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Adam hung up the phone with a solemn vow that he would be better about making sure he was there for River just as they’d been there for him.
Chapter Twenty
Adam
It had taken Adam and Wes hours yesterday, under Gus’ watchful directorship, but they had finally hung all the lights that had been dropped off.
“Can’t believe you put your home address on Instagram,” Wes had muttered halfway through.
Adam had agreed. Originally he’d thought maybe two or three people might drop off lights. He hadn’t been worried about his privacy—this was Garnet Run, Wyoming, population five thousand on a populous day, where people left each other alone.
With people sharing the post, though... He’d opened his original post and edited it to remove his address.
It was five days until Christmas. Adam figured people had better things to do than concern themselves with his lights.
“Daddy!”
“In the kitchen! Do you want oatmeal or waffles?”
“Daddy, look!”
Adam took a slug of his coffee and wiped eyes bleary from another late night with Wes. Totally worth it.
Adam followed Gus’ voice to the front door and found her face pressed to the window.
Outside, their neighbor Mr. Montgomery was pointing at their house and talking to two strangers, bundled up against the cold. One of them raised her phone and snapped a picture of the house.
“Stay here,” Adam instructed.