It’s Christmas Eve. We’ve all just returned from a hospital visit with Laura, and now the day is drawing to an end.

I sit on the sofa, watching as Tom plays his role of super-uncle to perfection. He comes in from the kitchen with a plate of cookies in one hand, a glass of milk in the other, and a carrot tucked under his arm. He lays the milk and cookies down on the coffee table.

Megan raises an eyebrow and lowers her voice. “Jack doesn’t believe in Santa anymore.”

Tom narrows his eyes playfully and spins on his heels with his hands on his hips to look at Jack. “Is that so?”

Jack giggles. “Everyone knows he’s not real.”

“I’m going to put out these cookies just in case. You never know.”

Megan laughs. “And the carrot?”

“This? This is for Rudolph.”

Tom sets the carrot down on the coffee table, then sinks down onto the sofa at my side, putting his arm around me.

He leans in toward me. “When did Jack stop believing in Santa?”

“A mouthy classmate last year caught his dad putting the gifts under the tree.”

“That sucks. I had my costume all ready to surprise him.”

“Really?”

The thought of Tom dressed up in red and white fur with a big fake beard makes me laugh.

He grins. “No. Bet you’d love that though, right?” He nudges me and winks.

Laughing with him is good. Lately, we seem to be laughing a lot. Yet every time I do, it’s quickly followed by a wave of sadness, because I know we’re running out of time in this pretend family life.

I hold onto Tom’s arm tightly, resting my head on his shoulder. At least tonight he’s mine. It’s a lovely evening. We watch a movie, and the kids put the gifts they’ve wrapped under the tree. We wait for them to go to bed before we begin to wrap ours.

Jack hugs us both before he goes upstairs. Megan smiles and throws a wave to both of us. There’s no tension and no barriers between us.

I smile at Tom once they’ve both gone to bed. “It took a while, but I think we finally got through to them.”

Tom smiles at me, pulling me closer and kissing the top of my head. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve been amazing.”

“You stepped up, Tom. The kids adore you.” I pause. “Will you be coming back to see them more often now?” I wonder if he’ll pick up on my real question: Will you be coming back to see me?

Tom reaches under the sofa to pull out a waiting roll of wrapping paper, considering my question. He turns to me and nods. “I won’t be a stranger again.”

Neither of us says any more about it. Part of me wants to press Tom for a real, solid answer; some promise of commitment for after the holidays are over. He doesn’t offer one, and I don’t push him. I’m enjoying the evening too much to risk inviting any sadness in. We’ll save that conversation for another time.

We start wrapping the kids’ presents. We’ve bought our own for them, and some on behalf of Laura. Tomorrow, we’ll go to the hospital and open them all together.

I watch Tom folding a snowman-patterned sheet of paper around the edges of a new games console he bought for Jack. I know he probably spent too much, and Laura might raise her eyebrows, but I can’t tell Tom off this time.

I know that he put a lot of thought into his gifts. He chose that console after playing lots of games with Jack and learning what he enjoys.

For Megan, he bought a designer dress that she saw a celebrity wearing on TV and said she loved. I’d balked when I’d seen the price. I remember the way Tom began grinning when Megan was fawning over the dress, already planning to get her one like it for Christmas.

This time, Tom’s spending is different. He’s not trying to pay off his family so they stop bugging him, or taking a wild guess at what they might like, or sending gifts through his PA. He’s chosen gifts that he knows the kids will love—though being Tom, he still didn’t think too much about the price tag.

I watch him pull the dress toward him and try to fold it.

I laugh and gesture for him to hand it over. “Let me,” I say. “You spend that much money on a dress, you want to make sure it’s folded right!”

Tom frowns. “Do you think I’ve spent too much?”

Yes. “No. It’s Christmas. A one-off treat won’t hurt them.”

“I tried to think, ‘What would Laura say?’ I got them one big gift each and then a few smaller ones. I didn’t want to spoil them.”

“You’ve done a great job. I know they’ll love them.”

I look at Tom fondly. Even though he’s trying to do what Laura tells him, he’s probably gone too far. But now I know him well enough to be sure his heart is in the right place. This isn’t a status gesture, this is sincere generosity and a desire to give the family a Christmas to remember.

“What did you get Laura?” I ask him.

Tom pulls another box toward him. It looks like computer software.

“It’s a project management program,” he explains. “My team swears by it. It organizes all your work and appointments, and all sorts of other stuff I don’t understand. It generates invoices; that kind of thing. I thought it might help make Laura’s job a bit easier, so she doesn’t have to work so hard.”

I smile. “That’s a sweet idea, Tom.”

“I didn’t know what to get her,” he says.

“It’s perfect.”

“What did you get?”

“I got Jack a couple of games and a new backpack for school. I got Megan some makeup and a new pair of hair straighteners. I got Laura a cushion and the new Bridget Jones DVD.”

“Good choices.”

“I’m hoping for a great Christmas.”

“It will be.”

Tom smiles as he says it. I can see the excitement sparkling in his eyes. He looks like a kid himself, tearing off tape with his teeth to stick down the paper, writing names on Christmas-themed name tags. It’s clearly been a long time since he’s had a real Christmas.

“It’s good to see you smiling.”

He looks up. “I know. I was dreading spending the holidays here, but I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad, too.”

We look at each other, the weight of unspoken words burning between us. Tom’s the first to look away. Disappointed, I turn my focus back to the gifts I’m wrapping. Maybe it’s not the time for that conversation. Or maybe he has nothing to say.