Father Christmas

“She will be.” Finn rubs large circles over my back. “Just a nasty bout of morning sickness. Don’t you worry about our girl, I’ve got her.”

“Yeah, you’d better.” Leena returns to her room before I can ask her to cut Finn some slack.

When I’m certain that my stomach’s no longer in revolt, I let Finn guide me over to the sink. I wash my face and brush my teeth, then go along as Finn tucks me back into bed like I’m staying home from school. As embarrassing as it is for him to see me like this, I appreciate how involved he’s willing to be in the more visceral aspects of my pregnancy.

He brushes a few stray hairs from my forehead. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nod. “Much better. Thank you.”

Finn skims his knuckles down my cheek. “I’d better get back to my room before the sun comes up.”

I wish he could stay and rub my belly, but he’s right. We can’t risk anyone catching him slipping out of my room.

A small part of me wishes we could tell everyone about us, about the baby, so we wouldn’t have to pretend this Christmas is just like all the ones that came before it. We could celebrate it properly, snuggled up by the fire with mugs of warm apple cider, and wake up in the same bed on Christmas morning.

But I know my mom. When she finds out I’m pregnant, and that Finn’s the father, she’s not going to take it well. I’m not sure how Aunt Terry and Gran will react to the news. I don’t want to believe that they could disown Finn over this, but he may not be welcome at family gatherings for a while.

Suffice it to say, telling them now would undoubtedly ruin Christmas. I’d like to avoid that scenario if at all possible.

A few hours later, I hear thundering footsteps in the hall, and Aunt Terry calling after the boys to put on their thermal socks. With my stomach finally settled, I roll out of bed and hop in the shower, then put on a clean pair of leggings and my dad’s old holiday sweater. I pray the festive pattern and color scheme will distract from the surfaces I’m trying to downplay underneath.

The situation in the kitchen is about as chaotic as I expected it would be.

“Dev took my green scarf,” Ryan yells.

“Did not!”

“Both of you, chill out.” Leena grins from ear to ear, watching me fix myself a cup of herbal tea. “Morning, bae. How’d you sleep?”

I haven’t even sipped my tea yet, and my internal temperature has already risen by about five degrees.

“Fine,” I say pointedly, meeting her wink with pursed lips and a swift headshake.

“Have either of you girls seen my blue gloves?” my mom asks. “Astrid, are you sure you don’t want to at least come down to the lodge with us?”

Gran pats my shoulder. “Astrid and I are going to fill this house with incredible smells. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

I squeeze her hand. “Absolutely.”

Considering all the changes happening in and around me, I’m looking forward to embracing our annual Christmas Eve traditions.

Tonight, we’ll cook a feast in the gourmet kitchen and then gather around the table to tell holiday stories we’ve all heard a thousand times. After that, we’ll eat cookies while we watch a Christmas movie in the family room.

I fix myself a bowl of instant oatmeal, playing mediator as my little cousins argue over who gets to jump off the lift first. Halfway through breakfast, I’m suddenly struck by the familiar fluttery sensation. I assume it’s the baby saying he likes oatmeal, until Gran wishes Finn a good morning.

“You’re staying behind, too?” Mom asks him.

I turn to see Finn standing in the doorway, watching me with a half-smile. He’s not dressed for going out. Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing his snowboard in the back of his rental truck.

“I pulled a muscle in the gym last week,” he says. “It’s still not a hundred percent. I figure I’ll be more useful here in the kitchen than out on the slopes.”

“I don’t know about that,” Gran says.

Aunt Terry chuckles. “Somebody’s getting old.” She shepherds the boys in the direction of the back door. “You kids have fun baking cookies. We should be back before three.”

Leena swats my ass on her way out. “Yeah, have fun with your cookies.”

I struggle to hold a smile as the rest of the crew shuffles through the door.