It wasn’t the most festive Christmas Eve they’d ever had, Brady thought as he sat at Chris and Marcy’s table and looked at a mountain of food he had no appetite for.
When Chris married Marcy, the Nash boys’ tradition of showing up at their mom’s on Christmas Eve and not leaving until Christmas morning had changed. Now Chris and Marcy hosted a Christmas Eve dinner so Brady and Christy could open gifts with the boys. Marcy’s family got Christmas afternoon, and Brady usually went and ate Christmas dinner with his mom and the dogs. All of the food, family and festivity without Brady having to spend the night on one of the small, ancient beds in his mother’s loft.
But this year, there was a cloud hanging over the holiday and even though the boys were spilling over with Christmas spirit and Marcy did her best, the Nash family couldn’t shake it off.
It had only been three days since his mom’s surgery and the question of Anna still lingered unanswered. When Chris had stopped by after work, Christy had still been sleeping and after giving him an update on the dental work, Brady had filled him in.
And later, when she’d slept off the grogginess, they had asked her about it. She waved it off as some kind of delirious rambling, even offering up the television excuse that had crossed Brady’s mind. They had no choice but to accept that, but deep down inside, he didn’t think she was telling them the truth.
“Would you like some more mashed potatoes, Christy?” Marcy asked. “I tried to make a variety of softer foods, but you’re not eating a lot.”
“The pain isn’t bad anymore, as long as I don’t try to chew something hard on that side of my mouth. I’m just saving room for that beautiful Christmas cake.”
Mention of the cake, which had come from Jenelle’s bakery, made him think of Reyna. He probably wouldn’t see her again until Friday, since she and her mom celebrated the end of the holiday baked goods rush by spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in their pajamas, doing absolutely nothing for their two days off. And because of that baked good rush, he hadn’t seen Reyna since the day before his mom’s surgery. He missed her.
Sometimes text messages just didn’t cut it.
“Mom, can we do presents now?” CJ said from his booster seat, his voice not quite a whine, but definitely an urgent plea. Marcy always made them eat first because once presents were opened, she knew she’d never get them away from their new toys.
A solid hour of chaos ensued, with shrieks of joy and flying paper and Marcy trying to salvage instruction sheets from the rubble. Brady had been tense since Monday, but watching his nephews eased his mood and he found himself relaxing.
He also found himself imagining what his own Christmas would be like a few years from now. A little boy or a little girl of his own, tearing up paper and bringing him a toy to put together, only to forget about it when the next toy was opened.
And maybe, by the time their little one was old enough to really celebrate Christmas, if Reyna hadn’t found somebody else to share her life with—because he already knew he wouldn’t—she’d be a part of it, too. They could celebrate as a family.
“Where did you go off to?” Marcy asked, taking a dump truck still in its box away from him because he’d only gotten two of the annoying twist ties off so far and Benny wasn’t happy about the delay.
“Nowhere.” When she gave him a skeptical look, he grinned. “I was imagining doing this for my own kid.”
“Next Christmas, your kid won’t have any clue what’s going on, but the one after that Christmas will be fun. It’s when they hit CJ’s age that it really kicks into gear, though. I’m pretty sure three-year-olds are why spiked eggnog exists.”
“How are you going to get them to calm down enough to sleep?”
“I’m not,” she said, wincing when Benny protested CJ touching one of his gifts with an earsplitting screech of outrage.
Sure enough, they didn’t calm down so much as crash. They still protested going to bed, but they were out of gas and Marcy told Chris to start serving up dessert while she got them to sleep.
The tension seeped back into Brady’s muscles when he was seated at the table again, but this time with only his mom and Chris. Without Marcy and the boys to distract them, the elephant in the room couldn’t be ignored anymore.
Brady caught Chris staring intently at him, as if willing him to say something, but he only gave his brother an arched eyebrow in return. What was he supposed to say? Not only had their mom made it pretty clear the mystery daughter was off-limits, but it was Christmas Eve.
When Christy cleared her throat, Brady looked over to find her giving him a stern look before turning and giving that same look to Chris. Then she sighed and shook her head.
Brady gave Chris a see? look meant to convey that now was not the time or the place to broach the subject and his brother rolled his eyes.
Christy slapped her hands down on the table so hard, the centerpiece rattled. “Boys, that’s enough.”
“That’s not really fair, Mom,” Chris said.
Brady nodded. “He’s right. We respect that you don’t want to talk about this, but you need to respect that you changed everything we believed about our family and we need to process that.”
The silence stretched on until it grew oppressive again before she spoke. “I’m going to tell you boys what happened and then I never want to talk about it again.”
Chris topped off his glass of wine and handed the bottle to Brady to do the same. They didn’t bother offering it to Christy, who took a very long sip from her water glass before starting to speak.
“After I graduated, I met a guy and we fell in love and I left town with him. We just went all over the country, working odd jobs and free to do whatever we wanted. We drank wine and made love and didn’t worry about anything else. And then I got pregnant.” She stopped, staring at Brady’s glass. “I hated being pregnant. And Anna changed everything. We weren’t free anymore. I wasn’t a good mother. I drank more wine and wished we could be the way we were before. I felt like a failure. And sometimes I’d think about how we’d be free again if something happened to Anna. And I hated myself, so I drank more wine.”
“Mom.” Chris covered her hand. “It’s normal to struggle after having a baby. Marcy needed a lot of support after each of the boys, you know. Postpartum depression is serious and real.”
“I do know that…now.” She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. “But you have knowledge. And money. And you wanted those boys.”
Brady just listened because, though he’d be a father soon, he didn’t really have a lot of experience with postpartum depression other than doing what he could to help out Chris while he helped out Marcy.
“He was so good with her,” his mom continued. “He was a good man and a good dad and I was hurting them both, so I left. Several years later, when I had stopped drinking and felt whole again, I reached out to him. He’d married someone else and Anna didn’t remember me, of course. She thought his wife was her mother and she was happy and healthy. I knew I’d made the right choice for her and I came back to Blackberry Bay, to my parents. I met your father. I have regrets, but staying away is not one of them.”
“Maybe it is,” Brady said, trying to keep frustration out of his voice but not succeeding. “Since Anna’s what you were talking about after your surgery, clearly your subconscious thinks you regret it.”
“I think it’s because you’re having a baby,” she said. She wrapped her hands around her water glass, though she didn’t lift it. “I thought about her a lot when Marcy was pregnant with each of the boys, too. Because if they’d been girls, would they have looked like her?”
“You’ve never told us we have a sister, Mom,” Chris said in a tone that was much more tempered than Brady’s. “You can see how that’s a lot for us to take in.”
“There is a woman out there who has the same maternal DNA as you. She has a family who loves her, and I do not want to be the cause of her life blowing up and coming between her and the woman who has been her mother for her entire life. I gave her up so that she could have that chance. It was my decision then and it’s my decision now, and I want both of you to promise me that you’ll respect that.”
“That’s a lot to ask,” Brady insisted.
“I know it is. But I know in my heart I did the right thing.”
“Then we’ll have to respect that,” Chris said.
“I know with the internet and everything, it’s easy to find people now, but I’m asking you not to. You know her name is Anna, but I’m not giving you any other details. Let her live her life and we’ll live ours, and focus on CJ and Benny and the new baby that’s coming.”
Chris nodded and reached over to give her arm a comforting squeeze before looking at Brady. He wished Reyna was here right now. She’d hold his hand and probably know all the right words to help him feel better about this.
But he didn’t want to tell her. She’d chosen him to be her baby’s father because he was a good guy and his family were good people. Maybe she hadn’t remembered that before his father died, he’d actually run off and abandoned his wife and sons. And now he knew his mother had run off and abandoned an infant daughter.
They might be good people, but they weren’t good at sticking around for their children.
Except Chris. Chris would never walk away from Marcy and he couldn’t be dragged away from CJ and Benny. All he could do was hope he took more after his older brother and less after his parents.
“I promise,” he said in a low voice, just as Marcy came down the stairs and joined them in the kitchen.
“I am so ready for a glass of wine,” she said. “And pie. Chris, you didn’t serve the dessert?”
“Sorry, love. We got talking and you know how it is.”
When Chris stood to help his wife—who was probably too exhausted to read the mood in the room—get some dessert, Christy reached over and rested her hand on Brady’s. He stared at it for a few seconds before turning his so he captured her fingers. Then he leaned forward to kiss the back of her hand.
“I love you too, honey.” When she smiled, he was able to recognize the shadows in her eyes—the emotions of a mother who’d given up her baby to save them both. “I really do.”
“I love you too, Mom.” That was all that really mattered now. “I really do.”
* * *
“Can you reach the remote control from there?”
Reyna looked at her mom and then at the remote control that was sitting on the coffee table, obviously out of her reach. “Nope.”
“I think if you stretched, you could reach it.”
“I think if I hadn’t just eaten half a cherry pie, I could stretch.”
Her mom laughed. “You didn’t eat half of it. You can’t have because I’m pretty sure I ate more than half.”
“I think we just have to watch this channel forever now.”
Her mom sighed. “Or at least until I have to pee, I guess.”
Christmas with her mom had become one of Reyna’s favorite days, which she never would have imagined during the first holiday after her dad died. Hunkering down in their pajamas with their favorite comfort foods had been their way of hiding from the festivities and joy all around them. Instead, they’d found joy with each other and a new way of celebrating together.
She couldn’t stop wishing Brady was with her, though, and that was a new twist. When she’d first come up with the idea of having a baby with him, her ideal scenario was that he’d just do his part and walk away. He’d laid that plan to rest pretty quickly, and co-parenting a child with a friend seemed like a perfect scenario. And yet here she was, with her hand rested on a baby she couldn’t even feel yet—whose heartbeat she wouldn’t hear for a couple more weeks—and she felt as if something was missing because Brady wasn’t there.
Hormones, she told herself, even though she had no idea if that was even a valid excuse at this point in her pregnancy. Hormones and too much pie.
When her phone chimed, she frowned because it was on the coffee table next to the remote control, which meant she’d have to put her feet down and sit up because nobody sent random text messages on Christmas Day. Yesterday she’d stopped at Meredith’s to do a Christmas Eve thing with her, Cam and Sophie—who had squealed so loudly when she opened Reyna’s gift that the dog and cat both disappeared under a bed—and they were supposed to be arriving at Meredith’s parents’ house about now.
Or it could be from Brady. That was the thought that finally got her to move and, with a groan, she sat up so she could reach the remote control, which she tossed to her mom. Then she picked up her phone.
It was from Brady, and the second she saw his name on the screen, she smiled. Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas, she sent back. And then, because it felt like there was nothing encouraging him to say anything else, she sent another message. I hope you had fun with your family last night.
The bubbles to indicate he was typing came up and then disappeared. And then returned. Disappeared. After the fourth time, a message came through. CJ and Benny are extra fun at Christmas. Are you having a good day with your mom?
She wondered what he hadn’t said in all of those disappearing attempts. Yes. Too much pie, though.
You’re eating for two.
Or eating for five.
There was a delay before the next message came through. I hope that’s a joke about how much you’ve eaten today and not any kind of test results.
She laughed out loud before remembering she wasn’t alone, and she turned to see her mother giving her a very interested look. “It’s Brady.”
“I assumed as much. You should invite him to stop by and eat some of that food.”
“We’re in our pajamas. It’s our thing.”
“I didn’t say I’d get dressed. I’m sure he’s seen a grown woman in flannel before. It’s up to you, of course.” She smiled. “But he is part of the family now, you know.”
The guilt that stabbed Reyna made her look back at her phone. Her mom had no way of knowing that Brady was always going to be the baby’s family and kind of family-adjacent to her and her mom, but that he wasn’t going to be actual family.
Another text came through before she could decide what to do. I’m about to head to my mom’s for dinner. Can I swing by for a minute or is it a mother-daughter only day?
You can stop by. My mom was just telling me to invite you to come over and eat some of this food.
I can’t stay long and I definitely can’t eat a lot of food, but I have a small gift for you. See you in about ten minutes.
“He’ll be here in ten minutes,” she told her mom, setting the phone beside her.
“Maybe I’ll be able to move by then. Next year, when we’re filling the baking orders, we need to not make extras for ourselves.”
“We said that last year.”
“This year, I mean it,” her mom said in a solemn voice.
“You said that last year, too.”
When Reyna heard the truck pull into the driveway, she got up and shoved her feet into her boots to go out and meet him.
“Merry Christmas,” she said when Brady reached the back step.
“Merry Christmas.” He looked as if he was fighting a grin, and he lost. “That’s quite a Christmas look you’ve got going.”
Reyna looked down at the flannel pajamas covered in Christmas penguins and her feet shoved into unlaced work boots. She’d bundled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head when she woke up and hadn’t touched it in the hours since.
“Thank you,” she replied with a little curtsy. “Come inside. It’s freezing out here and this is cute flannel not functional flannel.”
“Merry Christmas, Brady,” her mom said when they got inside. She’d not only gotten off the couch, but—unlike Reyna—had brushed her hair.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Bishop.”
“You know you can call me Jenelle, right?”
“Absolutely, Mrs. Bishop.”
Her mom laughed and waved a hand over the veritable buffet of baked goods spread across the counter. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like. And have seconds, and thirds. Take some to your mother. Shove some in your pockets.”
He groaned. “I’m still full from Marcy’s last night. And my mom’s making a dinner, even though it’s only the two of us.”
Jenelle opened her mouth, but before she could issue what was surely going to be an invitation for his mom to join them instead, Reyna gave a sharp shake of her head. Her mom was already calling Brady part of the family. She didn’t need the entire family to start acting as if they were already in-laws.
“You can at least have a slice of pie,” is what she said instead. “And take something for your mom.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
The three of them stood there for several seconds in awkward silence, until Reyna turned to Brady. “Want to see your car?”
“Sure. Do I get to wear one of those nifty jumpsuits?”
Reyna laughed. “No. We’re not going to touch anything. I promise, Mom.”
She shoved her feet back into her boots, but this time she threw her coat on over her pajamas. The garage had heat, but only from a woodstove and they weren’t going to be out there long enough to get a fire going.
“Wow,” he said when she’d unlocked the door and turned on the overhead lights.
“Believe it or not, she’s not in as bad a shape as I originally thought. A lot of stuff can be cleaned and rebuilt, rather than replaced.”
He looked at the long bench covered in parts, though she noticed he was careful not to touch anything. “And you know how all these go back together?”
She laughed. “Of course. That’s literally my job, Brady.”
“I know. It’s just…a lot. I can’t really make sense of it.”
“Which is exactly what would happen if you gave me a bunch of wire and circuit breakers and told me to wire an electrical panel.”
He dipped his head. “Good point.”
She reached up to a shelf, careful not to brush her coat against anything, and took down a small, wrapped gift. And when she turned around, he was also holding a present, which would have barely fit in his pocket.
“That’s not for the baby, right?” she asked as they each held out their hands. She wasn’t going to accept it if it was.
“Nope. We both said no gifts for the baby yet. Marcy was pretty vocal about how unhappy that made her, by the way.”
“It’s too early.”
“This is for you,” he promised, and they exchanged gifts.
When he made no move to unwrap his, she sighed and slowly peeled the tape and paper away from the box. Inside, nestled in a bed of white tissue paper, was a small journal with the silhouette of a woman holding a baby embossed on the front.
“You said you have a journal and you tracked dates and stuff,” he said, and she could hear the nerves in his voice. “That one’s for journaling your pregnancy and not just dates and stuff, but like…all kinds of stuff.”
It was so sweet that tears blurred her vision for a few seconds before she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I love this. Thank you. Open yours now.”
While she waited for him to unwrap his, she understood how nervous his voice had sounded when she’d opened hers. Gift giving always made her anxious, and his was so personal that she could only hope he liked his as much.
He lifted the Christmas tree ornament out of the tissue paper and held it up. It was a house that was clearly a simplified version of his, framed by a Christmas wreath. The bottom of the wreath had a banner with his last name and the year he bought the house painted on it.
“This is amazing. I love it.” He looked at her, and she could see by his expression he really did love it. “How did you get this?”
“Online,” she said. And then, because she knew the math on a custom order’s dates, she changed the subject. “So CJ and Benny had a good Christmas?”
“They did. They’re a fun age for it, though Benny’s still not sure exactly what’s happening. In a couple of years, they’re going to be out of control from Thanksgiving to New Year’s.” He ran his thumb over the front of the ornament before tucking it back into the tissue, closing the box and tucking it into his coat pocket. “That’s a perfect gift. Thank you.”
“And thank you for my journal. I’m going to enjoy having a special place for baby notes.”
They looked into each other’s eyes so long, she shivered. She wanted him to kiss her and she knew without a doubt he wanted to kiss her, but neither of them closed the short distance.
“I should go,” he said in a quiet voice. “My mom’s waiting for me.”
He didn’t want to go. She knew if she stepped just a little bit closer and tilted her head back, he would kiss her until they forgot what day it was and what they were supposed to be doing. But that was for couples and they were only a pretend couple.
A hug between friends was perfectly acceptable, but with the tension crackling between them, even the most innocent of touches wasn’t going to be innocent for long.
“If you don’t go in and get some food to take with you,” she said, “my mom might chase you down the street, trying to throw it into the back of your truck.”
He laughed, stepping toward the door, and the moment was lost. “I’m tempted to start driving away just to watch her try.”
She turned off the lights and locked the door, and they took their time walking back to the house despite the cold.
“I can’t believe how much work you’ve done on the Chevelle,” he said, his breath making white puffs in the air.
“Breaking it down is the easy part. And, since you brought it up, I don’t know if I’ll have her running before the baby comes. If that’s an issue, it’s not hard to throw the parts in a box.”
“Of course it’s not. I told you I was in no rush, and I already knew that at some point, keeping up with regular customers is going to be enough on your plate. I hope you’re keeping track of the time you put in, though.”
She laughed. “I’m my father’s daughter. I don’t work for free, and if you ask me about a strange knocking sound your car is making, you better at least be paying for my coffee.”
“Okay, you’re in charge of teaching our child how to be self-employed,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m a soft touch, unfortunately.”
“I know.” When he glanced sideways at her, she shrugged. “There was one time I was at the café with Sydney and you were sitting at the counter. The guy next to you asked you about a thing his motion detector light was doing and you spent like twenty minutes telling him how to fix it. And then you paid for his coffee.”
“Oh yeah, that guy. If it helps, at least fifty percent of the time, those people end up calling me anyway, because they either made it worse or realized they shouldn’t be messing around with wires. And they call me instead of somebody else because I’m such a great guy.”
“Was that guy one of the more than fifty percent?”
“No.” He opened the door for her and rolled his eyes when she walked by him, laughing.
Her mom had already packed up some pastries and other goodies for him to take, and she’d even found a basket because a paper plate with plastic wrap wasn’t going to cut it.
“My mom and I are never going to be able to eat all of this,” he protested when she handed him the basket.
“Not with that attitude, you won’t.” She patted his arm. “I believe in you, though.”
When he was ready to go, Reyna reached for her coat, but he stopped her. “Don’t go through all that again just to walk me to my truck. Stay in here where it’s warm, and I’ll talk to you soon. Maybe when I recover from my sugar and carb crash.”
They were all laughing when he went out the door, and without thought, Reyna moved to the window to watch him drive away. Maybe he’d been as certain as she was that if she’d walked him to his truck, there would have been a kiss goodbye.
A very long, hot kiss goodbye that might have changed everything.
“He could have given you a kiss goodbye, you know,” her mom said, startling Reyna. If her mother started reading her mind, she was in trouble.
Then she remembered that she and Brady were the only ones who knew they weren’t really dating. And people who were dating generally kissed each other goodbye. “Public displays of affection in front of moms is all kinds of awkward, Mom.”
“I would have turned around.”
“You didn’t send him all of the pineapple upside-down cake, did you?”
“Reyna Marie Bishop, you must be joking right now.”
“Well, I don’t want it right now,” she said. But nothing beat cake when it came to eating your feelings and Reyna had a lot of feelings to eat.