“It got delivered yesterday and the guys at the security desk held it for me and then I had one of them quietly bring it through this morning at seven. I gave both guards extra generous tips in their Christmas cards,” she says.
I pull the sweater over my head and follow her out.
I lift the cover off the big, new barbeque. It’s a top-of-the-line grill, dual. One side is gas, the other charcoal. There’s also a smoker in the bottom.
“And that doohickey there,” she points to a lifter hanging from the front, “Is to move the grill up and down when it’s hot.”
I lift the cast iron utensil. “Baby,” I say, “This is fuckin’ phenomenal. I love it. Exactly what I would’ve picked if I’d bought it.” I lift the lids, one after the other, before I squat to check out the smoker. There’s an owner’s manual inside it so I nab it and close it up and then put the cover back over. “Get in, it’s cold out here. I’ll be right in, just gonna cover this up.”
After I hang the lifter and cover the grill, I see through the window that she’s at the kitchen counter with our coffee mugs, a smile on her face as she makes more coffee.
Me out here with a grill, her in there at those pink counters. Life with her feels right. She soothed me to sleep last night. She feels right in my arms. She looks amazing in that kitchen and I can barely wait until the weather turns nice and I can get out here and grill food while watching her move around in there with a big belly, able to see that she’s got my baby growing inside her.
Fuck, but I love her. She makes this place a home.
I dust snowflakes off my shoulders as I head back inside, thinking that maybe she’s right – what she said that night after Dario’s wedding just before we got swarmed.
Maybe we had to go through a big pile of bullshit and come out the other side to appreciate what we’ve got with one another. Maybe our story, crazy as it's been, has happened the way it’s supposed to. It still shits me that she had to hurt, that we got cheated, that I nearly lost it all after waiting so long to get it, but today, looking at her through the window I know – know down to my marrow the value of what I’ve got with her, and I also know for a fact I’ll do anything in the world to protect it.
Would I have felt as strongly this fast if we’d gotten started the night I first laid eyes on her? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it would’ve taken longer to get where I’m at in my head about us or maybe I’d have blown it being too suspicious, not invested enough. But I know what I’ve got right now, how beautiful life can be, because of her. She's stronger because of me and I'm better because of her.
She's the key to happiness for me and I know down to my soul that I’ll protect what we have with my fucking life.
“Stockings!” Violet exclaims as I approach the kitchen, setting the manual for my new grill down on the counter.
And then while we have our second cup of coffee we go through those stockings. They’re twenty or thirty pounds each, filled with all sorts of goodies. Candy. Apples and oranges. All my usual toiletries. All her usual ones. Pens. Socks and underwear. Money in every denomination up to one-hundred-dollar bills. She tells me that it’s a family tradition to do giant stockings.
“Aww, baby. You had to fill your own? I’ll step up next Christmas,” I promise, kissing her hand.
“We’ll get them again, similar to these at Mom’s. Though we only get coins and a dollar bill, no fives, tens, twenties, or anything higher. I was feeling spendy.”
“Merry Christmas, baby,” I say, kissing her.
“Merry Christmas, Killian. Let’s make our gingerbread house so I can take a picture of it, then as soon as I do that, I’m gonna eat it.”
I laugh.
47
Violet
Christmas Night
Christmas was amazing. I didn’t even feel morning sickness once all day, which was a gift in itself.
Killian loved his gifts. I loved watching him open them.
And I loved my gifts, too. From him and from my family.
More than anything, I loved having Christmas and feeling all those magical Christmas feelings because the last few years were so un-festive. And I got to give Killian something he hasn’t had before. I might love Christmas now more than I ever did.
And we got some nice presents for and from family members, too. Mom went crazy over her expensive shoes from Milan and wore them all day. We called her Catwalk Momma and they called me Barker’s Beauty because I kept flashing my blingy bracelet with exaggerated hand gestures and getting caught looking at it.