The Fling

72

I woke up on Saturday feeling both excited for my belated-Christmas with Abigail and her children but also anxious to hear her decision about the Palm Springs trip. We'd hung out again the day before to work on the puzzle, and it hadn't come up at all. She had, however, told me that we could celebrate New Year's Eve together at my place. Bert wasn't going out, so he'd be home with the kids. He had apparently been invited to several industry parties, but she explained that the thought of attending one without a beautiful woman on his arm depressed him, so he declined them all. Not surprising, given that he was a superficial prick.

I made arrangements for the taco bar on Friday afternoon and bought a flourless chocolate cake from a local bakery for dessert, which I decorated with some candy Santas I found on clearance at Target. While I was there, I picked up five gingerbread house kits so that we'd have a fun project to do, along with Santa hats for everyone. The cashier probably thought I was nuts buying this stuff after Christmas, though maybe she assumed I loved a bargain.

I donned my red sequined hat before my girlfriend and her children were due to arrive and turned on the gas fireplace to make my home cozier. The food was being delivered at six, so I thankfully didn't have to deal with picking it up.

"Merry Christmas!" my four guests said all at once when they entered my house. Each one held a gift in their hands, which they placed under my tree after taking off their jackets and shoes. I gave them their hats, which they put on immediately.

"This looks very pretty on your tree," Abigail remarked as she lightly touched the ornament she'd given me.

"It's always going to be my favorite...no matter what." I turned to the kids, "Who wants to decorate a gingerbread house?"

The kits I bought came with preassembled A-frame homes, so we only had to add frosting and candy. I figured this would be easy and enjoyable, but Hannah got frustrated when her efforts didn't turn out like she imagined them in her head. "Mine is the ugliest," she sobbed.

Truthfully, it was a mess, primarily due to the volume of candies she'd stuck on it. The rest of us took a more minimalistic approach, which resulted in a cleaner look. I didn't want her to feel bad about her work, though. "I love yours, Hannah! Can we trade?"

"Really? Or are you just being nice?" she asked skeptically.

"I mean it! I want to stick the house you made up on my mantle." I crossed my fingers behind my back and hoped lying to a child didn't make me a bad human. "Wanna swap?"

"Yes!" she replied with a huge grin that showcased two missing teeth.

"Let's let them dry and then I'll put yours up so I can see it every day."

Bertie frowned. "Won't it rot after a while?"

"I want to keep Shawn's forever! It can't rot!" Hannah was on the verge of tears again.

"Everything rots," Bertie told her.

"That's not true! Our toys haven't rotted! Neither has our house!"

The little boy rolled his eyes. "I meant food, Hannah-banana."

"Don't call me that, or I'll call you dirty-Bertie!" she shouted.

Their mom intervened using a tone I rarely heard, "We don't come into someone's home as guests and behave this way in front of them! No more shouting or name-calling or we'll have to leave."

They both looked up at her. "But Shawn's family," Hannah said.

I felt a lump form in my throat and made eye contact with Abigail, who appeared to read my mind because she gave me a sympathetic look. This was exactly what she was worried about; her children were already very attached to me, and I felt the same way about them.