A Very Cerberus Christmas (Cerberus MC)

Maybe I just don’t want my two worlds to collide. I don’t want Micah to see what I used to be. He’s heard the words. He knows I used drugs in the past. He knows Robbie and I got married while we were high because it seemed like a great idea. He knows that Robbie was in and out of my life as much as he was in and out of jail. I made a lot of bad decisions. Robbie made even more.

But somehow, turning that from just conversation into something visual, something tangible, makes it real. It could ruin us.

Pushing him away could ruin you, too. If you’re not careful, you could lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of that thought and smile at Harley as he opens the worn cardboard box we stored the Christmas tree in last year.

“Need any help?” Robbie asks.

Harley shakes his head. I grin at his independence. The tree we have isn’t very big, but he’s a little guy.

I’m trying not to be bitter about Robbie being here and inserting himself into our traditions. I knew it was going to be like this, but I got so used to it just being the two of us. I feel a little uneasy with the changes.

Robbie smiles as Harley struggles to push the box over to make it easier to remove the tree.

“If you make a mess—”

“I clean it. I know, Momma.”

I laugh.

The Santa Clause plays on the television—another tradition we started two years ago—as Harley finally gets the tree out of the box. Robbie helps with the stand because that part is impossible for Harley to do on his own as I start unwrapping the ornaments we have.

One by one, I hand them to Harley as he decides where they need to go. I feel bitterness settle in my stomach when Robbie lifts our son to place the star on top. I’m not supposed to experience this on Christmas Eve. The holiday is about love and cherishing who you’re with, but this isn’t what I pictured going in to tonight. I want Micah here beside me, his hand in mine as Harley plugs in the lights for the first time on the little tree.

Instead, I have my amazing son staring at the tree and Robbie looking a little agitated because despite his best intentions, he struggles with being a dad for more than an hour at a time. He’s honestly just not used to being around kids. He’s responsible for his own structure and choices, and after years and years of being told what to do and when to do it, he doesn’t know what to do with his freedom. He confessed that he’s fine at work. He has tasks and within those confines he does well. It’s the hours after the work bell rings that he struggles.

“Now it’s time for hot chocolate,” I say as I get off the sofa.

“What about gifts?” Robbie asks, his eyes searching mine.

He knows how hard we’ve had it all these years.

“I forgot mine back at the house, but I’ll bring them over first thing in the morning.”

I nod. There goes another tradition I have to make accommodations for.

“Santa comes at night, but I have to hide mine from Harley.” I playfully glare at my son who has the decency to look guilty.

“Really?” Robbie asks, facing Harley.

“It was only once. I was curious. In my defense, I was four.”

“Sneaky,” Robbie says, ruffling his hair.

“Robbie, do you want hot chocolate?”

“I need to get back to the house,” he answers.

“We have to do reindeer food first!” Harley disappears down the hallway, rushing back with his backpack.

“Reindeer food?”

“They make it at school,” I explain.

“It’s oatmeal for the reindeer and glitter so they can see our house from the sky. I don’t want Santa to miss us!”

“You have to put shoes and your jacket on,” I remind him as he rushes for the front door.

Robbie helps Harley into his jacket after he slips his shoes on without socks. Robbie tugs his jacket on last after handing mine to me.

“Thank you,” I tell him, giving him a weak smile.

I wonder if he can sense my unhappiness. I know Micah was able to the second he saw me the day he took Harley on the super-secret trip the Sunday after our last visit to the prison, but Robbie hasn’t said a word to me about it. Maybe he doesn’t read me the way Micah does. Maybe he doesn’t care that I’ve been feeling a little lost and broken. I mean, we aren’t together, so maybe it’s not his place to be worried.

“Let’s go,” I say to Harley as he waits patiently by the door.

“Look,” Harley says with awe when the front door is opened.

To the right of the door is a stack of gifts, and the second I spot the motorcycle ornament sitting on the very top, I know who they’re from. I look up and down the street, but I don’t see his bike or the truck he drives. I hate that I missed him. These weren’t here when Robbie arrived, and he’s only been here for an hour and a half. I feel empty knowing he was so close so recently, and I didn’t get to see him.