“Weather’s forecasted for a helluva wind storm this week. Maybe bring some ice with it.” I rub my hands together before cupping them and blowing warm air over the frozen skin. The sky is heavy with dark clouds, dimming the afternoon light and making it feel much later than two o’clock.

“Can smell the snow in the air.” Olaf sniffs loudly. In his red plaid shirt and matching hat with ear flaps, he’s the world’s crankiest elf. Or the dwarf named Grumpy.

“You know you’re not a real snowman, right?” I press my luck in poking him. I’m still not banned from the Dog House, despite many threats over all these years, but I like to test the limit. Especially after Hailey and I got ourselves kicked out of the Inn after last year’s Donnely Boats’ holiday party.

I stand by my statement that if you have a party at a hotel with bedrooms and you don’t want shenanigans to occur in said rooms, keep the doors locked. Newlyweds is apparently enough of an excuse to avoid charges, but not enough to keep us out of the police log. I’ve got the incident report framed and hanging over the toilet in the downstairs bathroom.

No shame in loving my wife.

“Damn cartoon,” Olaf grumbles. “One of those ribbon and wreath ladies offered to have some high school art kid come paint my windows with Disney characters.”

“What did you tell her?”

“This is a tavern, not a daycare. People don’t care if the place is festive as long as I don’t run out of beer.”

I almost mention that we’re out here in the cold hanging up pine garlands around his tavern’s windows and doors. The annual holiday stroll is tonight and O’s reluctantly agreed to do his own decorations to avoid too much “fancy bullshit” from the official event committee.

Up on a ladder, I’m doing the lifting and hanging while he grumbles from his spot on the sidewalk. After his heart attack last year, he’s not allowed to over exert himself.

“Speaking of daycare, you know you can’t bring your babies in here when you come to play pool? Not even if you have them strapped to you like a bomb.” He scowls as he unfurls more garland to hand to me.

I snort and don’t bother to cover it. “Bomb?”

“Ticking-time bombs. Any second they can explode with ear piercing sounds or projectile body fluids.”

Shaking my head and still laughing, I hang the last of the swag on this window and lean back. “How’s it look?”

“Festive,” he spits out the word like an unwanted lemon seed.

“Then I think we’re done out here. My hands and balls are about to freeze off. I believe you mentioned earlier about rewarding me with a beer if I helped you.”

“Bullshit. You volunteered. Or Dan forced you to come down here because he thinks I’m old and feeble.” He holds the ladder as I step down. “Fine. Put your gear in the truck and meet me inside. Don’t leave anything laying around or someone will pretend to trip on it just to sue me.”

He mutters about the downfall of society as he opens the door and steps inside.

I stroll to the middle of the crosswalk and examine our handiwork. The old red-painted clapboard exterior with its white trim does look festive with the long boughs of evergreen framing the front windows and doorway. Multi-colored lights twinkle in the gloomy afternoon light. Glancing to my right up the street, I see the colorful buildings and storefronts of Langley similarly decorated. The charm is nearly unbearable. Downtown has been transformed from quaint to holiday quaint.

Next year, we’ll have a kid to bring to these events. Standing in the middle of the road, I’m struck by how much life’s changed and how it feels like everything’s speeding up.

A car honks at me and I wave my hand over my shoulder to tell them to go around. Can’t they see I’m having a moment?

Brushing my hand over my scruffy beard, I stare up at the Dog House as my past flashes before my eyes. Three years ago, Hailey and I kissed for the first time here. Two years ago, I proposed to Hailey the night of the annual Sip n’ Stroll.

Our history is tied to this old building and these familiar streets.

A loud rapping on glass snaps me out of my memories. Olaf’s mouthing something as he slams his fist against the window.

When I step through the door, he gives me a disapproving shake of his head. “One minute you were complaining about the cold and the next you’re standing in the middle of the busy street with your mouth hanging open. It’s a bunch of dead branches. Don’t let it go to your head.”

As I slide onto a stool at the bar, I chuckle despite his intended insult. “Got lost in some old memories. You invite me in here for my free beer?”

“Beer’s free, but I still expect a tip.” He picks up a pint glass from the shelf behind the bar. “IPA?”

“Sure.” I watch as he pulls the handle and angles the glass to get the perfect head.

Finishing the pour, he sets the pint in front of me on the bar. Under his breath, he mumbles, “Thanks for your help.”

It’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me and I’m stunned speechless for a beat. “Um, you’re welcome.”

He busies himself with wiping down the already clean wooden bar top. “How’s Hailey doing?”

“Good. I think. Tired and complains about her back. And ankles. Has to pee every ten minutes. Eating weird foods together. Like clams and ice cream. Which might explain the farting when she sleeps, which is a lot.”

“Whoa, I didn’t ask for all the details.” He flicks the white towel to his shoulder and holds up his hands, palms facing me. “Best advice is to keep some mystery between a man and a woman.”

I sip my beer to keep from laughing at the horror in his eyes. “Times have changed since you were a new dad.”

“You mean other than the whole world going to shit?” He barks out a snort. “Back then, when people had more sense, the men smoked in the waiting room until someone announced our name over the speaker. By the time I first saw my sons, they were squeaky clean and safely stored in their plastic baby tray in the nursery. Much more civilized.”

I can’t imagine any of that scenario. “You could smoke in the hospital?”

“Sure. In those days, you smoked anywhere you wanted.” He nods, proud about this fact.

“Doesn’t seem healthy.” I frown into my glass.

“Eh, we lived. So did our kids.” He dismisses my concern with a shrug.

Honest wisdom from Olaf. “I don’t know how my mom did it with the four of us.”

“Nowadays everyone’s afraid of germs and getting dirty. Best advice I can give you is to let the kid eat dirt.”

“Gotcha.” I’m not sure Hailey would agree, but I nod anyway.

“That’s enough baby talk for me. You about finished?” Olaf slaps his hand on the bar and points at my pint glass, which is two-thirds full.

“Why are you rushing me out? Gotta change into your Santa costume for the kiddies?” I chuckle at the thought.

“If Diane and her little angel Alene can’t convince me to play that jolly bastard, it’s time to let the joke die.” He pets his scraggly white beard.

“Then maybe lose the beard from Thanksgiving to New Year’s. I remember a group of toddlers waddling after you down the street last year during the holiday parade like a pack of unemployed elves.”

Olaf scowls and opens his mouth. “Keep it up and I’ll ban you. Don’t need some punkass half-grown kid—”

In my jacket pocket, my phone plays the opening notes to “As Long as You Love Me.” I lift my finger to pause his tirade. “Hold that insult. It’s Hailey.”

Months ago I assigned Hailey a new ringtone and made her promise to call, not text if it’s an emergency. Cheesy as hell, but the inside joke never gets old. Her name appears in the text window and I exhale with relief.

*Where are you?*

I quickly type out my reply.

*At the Dog. Helping Olaf get in the holiday spirit.*

After hitting send, I add another short message.

*Everything okay? Need anything?*

The bouncing dots appear and then disappear before reappearing.

I stare at my phone, waiting for her response.

“You know, you can use those things to actually speak to people,” Olaf mumbles from the other side of the bar.

Ignoring Scrooge, I read Hailey’s text.

*Oh, can you bring me a slice of garlic clam pizza from Village?*

*You’ll be here in two hours for the Sip n’ Stroll. Can you wait until then?*

Her response is instant.

*NO.*

I smile at her all caps reply.

Swallowing a third of my beer, I push the glass closer to Olaf. “Gotta go.”

“Hailey’s not in labor, is she?” Genuine concern furrows his brow.

“No, she’s not due for another two weeks. She’s craving a slice of pizza.”

“Babies don’t care about calendars. They come when they’re ready. Some are impatient and others are stubborn.”

“Thanks for the wisdom.” I tug on my Carhartt jacket. “And the beer.”

I pull out my wallet, and he shakes his head.

“On the house.”

“You’re welcome,” I respond to his unspoken thank you. “See you in a couple of hours.”

Outside, the wind’s kicked up to a half-hearted howl. Against the bitter bite of the damp air, I flip the collar on my jacket before digging my hands into my pockets. The walk to the pizzeria is only one long, cold block.

It’s too early for holiday strollers, but the sidewalks are an obstacle course of holiday decorations. I accidentally, and not at all on purpose, kick a kissing ball of mistletoe.

“Oops. Sorry ’bout that.” I pick the ball up from the gutter and replace it on the pile.

“No problem …” an unfamiliar female voice says from above me on a ladder. “Wait, aren’t you Tom Donnely?”

My feet freeze in place. This usually doesn’t end well. I peer up at the woman looming over me. Her face is unfamiliar, and that’s all I have to go on because she’s wearing a big fuzzy beanie and a padded down coat.

I’ve been with Hailey for three years and the memories of the women who came before her are fuzzy. Still, I can usually remember a face, if not a name. I know my reputation would say otherwise, but the list isn’t that long.

Lifting my eyebrows in happy surprise and giving her a friendly, but cautious smile, I greet her. “Hey?”

I don’t mean for it to come out as a question, but my voice lifts like I’m going through puberty again. Yeah, it even cracks at the end.

“I’m June.” She waves at me.

So I wave back while wracking my brain for a woman named June I’ve slept with. Nothing. Maybe she goes by a nickname.

“Hey.” I repeat myself because I don’t really have anything else to say.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” She laughs and steps down from the ladder. I step closer to hold it steady for her. Always the gentleman.

“You’re June.” I give her my standard deflection answer. Damn, small town on a small island.

“I work at Diane’s Pilates studio, as well as here.” She points at the knitting shop we’re standing in front of. “I’m new to the island.”

Still doesn’t ring a bell, but I exhale with relief she’s never seen me naked.

“I recognized you from the Naked Whidbey calendar.”

Cancel the last part. Sometimes I forget everyone’s seen the glory of my bare ass thanks to Erik Kelso’s antics.

Yeah, I volunteered for the calendar, because there’s no way I’d ever let those Kelso brothers outdo me.

“Right, of course.” My neck heats. I’m not shy, but I’m a married man and about to become a dad. The idea of being an anonymous piece of fantasy man meat doesn’t sit right.

“I have something for Hailey. Can I give it to you? I thought I’d see her tonight, but it’s kind of big to be toting around the streets of Langley.” She’s already walking inside the store.

Now that I’m sure she’s not hitting on me, I follow her. “I’ve never been in here before. Yarn, huh?”

The walls are filled with cubbies stuffed with a rainbow of yarn. The whole place smells like wool.

She removes her beanie. Warm brown hair spills around her shoulders. Her eyes are hazel and crinkle up in the corners when she smiles at me. Pretty in an objective way. “You should take up knitting. There are a couple of men on the island who knit. You could form your own circle.”

Men forming circles doesn’t sound like anything I want to be a part of.

“I’m better with wood.” I swallow awkwardly over the double-entendre. “And chainsaws.”

Nothing sexual about chainsaws. Unless you have a Friday the Thirteenth fetish.

June hoists a large, brown paper bag from behind the counter. “It’s more bulky than heavy.”

I eye it warily. “What is it?”

“A blanket for the baby. I know you had a shower and probably have a million things for the baby, but we still wanted to make something. Our knitting group tries to make a blanket for every new island baby.”

They’re lucky we’re not having a population explosion.

“Uh, thanks.” Great. Another blanket. I pick up the bag with one hand under the thin handle and the heavy weight surprises me. Barely avoiding dropping it, I give her a half-smile. “Did you knit it with iron?”

She doesn’t laugh. “Of course not. Local alpaca.”

And my sense of humor fails to hit its mark. “Probably softer for the baby. And smarter since they won’t get stuck to any large magnets.”

June blinks at me with a lost smile on her face.

I tell her thanks again and back out of the shop with a wave.

My phone vibrates with a new text.

*Starving. What’s your ETA?*

Lately, Hailey goes from a little peckish to hangry in a flash. Her text is a warning I’m wise not to ignore.

I text her back.

*On my way. Need anything else?*

I pick up my pace the rest of the way to the pizzeria. The delicious smell of garlic and fresh dough greet me when I pull open the door.

“Ahh, Tom. Wondered when you were going to show up. Hailey called a few minutes ago. She ordered you a meatball sub.” Joe gives me a sympathetic frown as he sets a large pizza box and a bag on the counter. “Said something about promising not to tell Dan she’s cheating on him.”

Handing over some cash, I ignore his lifted eyebrow and smirk. “We’re equal opportunity pizza eaters. Happy to keep you both in business. You know, spread around the love.”

Joe chuckles and focuses his attention on counting out my change. I notice he’s pierced his eyebrow. It’s a nice complement to the large gauges stretching his earlobes. Probably going to regret those when he’s older. Great, now I’m channeling my dead grandfather.

“What am I missing?” I scrunch up my brow and pretend to laugh along with him.

“Eh, old gossip. You know.” He winks at me.

The problem is I don’t know, but I don’t have time to figure out which rumor he’s talking about.

“Gotta get the pizza home while it’s hot.” Tucking the handle of the baby blanket bag in the crook of my arm, I pick up the pizza box with both hands and balance the bag with my sandwich on top.

“You give me hope, man.” He holds out his fist for me to hit it.

“Well, you keep up the good work.” I stick out my elbow not holding a bag and tap his balled hand.

Avoiding the booby-trapped sidewalks with all their holiday decorations, instead I walk down the street. Thinking the entire way back to the truck, I try to untangle Joe’s comments and wink. He’s a strange one. Reminds me a little bit of Jonah Kingston, Erik Kelso’s business partner and brother of Ashley, Carter Kelso’s true love and my old …

I trip over my own feet and tip forward, almost dropping the pizza box.

Once I steady myself, I glance over my shoulder at the pizzeria.

Wait a damn minute.

I’m a father to be, dutifully fetching food for my pregnant wife, and the hired help has the giant cohones to bring up my past? And insinuate we’re swingers.

For the record, no one is sharing any wives in my circle of friends.

No way.

A guy gets dragged to a party one time, leaves by himself once he figures out what sort of party it was, and years later, he has to deal with a knowing wink-wink while picking up a clam pie.

Okay, clam pie sounds way dirty.

Grumbling like Olaf, I open up the truck and slide the food across to the passenger side before I start the engine. Lived my whole life on this island, going to the same places, and knowing the same people. Always loved it. Now this town feels too small for both my past and my future to coexist.

Rolling down my window as I blast the heater, I duck my head out the opening and yell to anyone who can hear, “People change, you know!”

A few pedestrians turn their heads in the direction of the truck, but I’m already pulling away.