Nick

Christmas can best be described as happy chaos.

We wake up to Katie pushing Joey up and down the hall on his new red bike—his feet don’t quite reach the pedals, but I guess that’s not a problem when you’ve got a friend willing to help. I’ll put the kibosh on indoor bike-riding tomorrow, but for today, they should enjoy it.

Lina comes up behind me, still in her dressing gown. “Looks like they found the presents.”

“Sure did.” I poke her in the ribs. “So, d’you get me anything?”

“Don’t know—have you been a good boy?”

I can’t keep the wicked grin off my face. “You seemed to think so last night, when I was—“

She claps her hand over my mouth. “Sh—the kids!”

Katie spots us, and wheels Joey in our direction. “Sorry—it was kind of obvious what this was, from the shape of the wrapping paper.”

“You guys kept sleeping in,” adds Joey.

“That’s all right.” I pluck a scrap of wrapping paper out of his hair. “So, you guys tear into all the gifts, or just this one?”

“Just this one!”

“Good.” Lina eyes Joey’s pajamas, which are flecked with what looks like strawberry jam. “You guys had breakfast?”

Joey nods. “Just toast, like you said.”

She’s had us eating light since yesterday, in preparation for Christmas dinner with her folks. Having been over there for a few meals already, I’m fully on board with this strategy. I swear, last time we stayed for dinner, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fit behind the wheel to drive us home. Still, I’m looking forward to this, especially seeing how excited the kids are.

I put on some coffee while Lina herds the kids into the living room. I can hear them messing around in there, making “tinsentacles”—that is, shuffling across the carpet in their socks to get some static going, then watching the tinsel reach out to them from the tree. We’re going to be finding tinsel around the place well into February.

By the time I bring in the coffee, and cocoa with marshmallows for the kids, Joey’s pretty much a second Christmas tree, tinsel-festooned from head to toe. Katie’s got a few strands in her hair. I point her at a particular box under the tree. “Open that one first.”

It’s the digital camera she’s been begging for all year. Got one for Joey too, a drop-proof, waterproof, kid-friendly model. Figure the two of them will spend all day snapping pictures, so we’ll be set for memories.

Lina presses a long, flat box into my hands. “Here—it’s kind of stupid, but I sort of blew most of my budget on the kids.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I tear off the wrapping paper, to reveal a long, narrow picture frame with three separate windows. The first has a program from the comedy club we went to on our first sort-of-date, kind of creased and dogeared, with a sticky fingerprint on it. The next has a tarot card—not the Death one, I’m glad to note—and the last one’s still empty.

“I thought you could—we could put a picture from today in that last frame.” She looks away. “See? I told you it was dumb.”

“No, it’s not.” I slide my arm around her waist and squeeze her tight. “How do you even have this?” I tap on the glass over the comedy club program. “That’s from the actual night! I recognize that name—that was the herpes guy. You were laughing so hard....”

She chuckles at the memory. “I picked one up on the way out. Found it in my back pocket next time I went to do laundry.” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thought I might want to remember that day.”

“You didn’t steal the tarot card from that fortune teller, did you? ‘Cause, I don’t know—she seemed kind of witchy. Like she might put a curse on us, or something.”

“Nah—found a used deck at Goodwill. Picked out a card that seemed to fit us.”

I peer at the card. It shows a woman in white petting a lion. “Strength?”

“Yeah. The booklet that came with the deck said it represents endurance, the will to triumph over any obstacle. Seems to me we’ve come through a lot together, and....” She gestures at the kids, the tree, the brightly-decorated room. “Well, can’t argue with these kinds of results.”

I couldn’t agree more. I reach under the tree. “Got you something too.”

Despite the fact that I wrapped her gift like an ape, Lina manages to get the paper off in one piece. I like that about her, her neat way of doing things. Her jaw drops when she sees what’s inside.

“A new Macbook? This is... Wow; this is really....”

“You can’t do an entire computer science degree using the ones at the library.”

“Hey, I like the library! It’s quiet, and it smells good.” She brushes a stray scrap of cling film off the computer. “Still, this is...so generous. And thoughtful. Thank you. I love it.”

“Flip it open.”

She does, and a slow smile spreads over her face, when she sees what I’ve left on the desktop. Relief washes over me—I was afraid she’d think it was too much, too soon. But I’ve been thinking it for weeks. And now she’s reading it in a Word file: Time for you and Joey to officially move in?

Lina hugs me close and whispers in my ear. “I didn’t know how to ask if we should stay or go—I’ve been dreading having to go back there after...you know.”

“Definitely stay,” I tell her. “Stay forever.”

I have something else to talk to her about too, but I’m saving that for after dinner, after the kids are in bed. I’ve decided it’s time. Time to stop making huge sums of money for a handful of people; time to start changing the world in the ways I always wanted to. I think Mark would approve. By this time next month, I’ll have handed the firm over to a new CEO, and I’m hoping Lina will work with me on my new enterprise.

We made a great team, putting together the Happy Bean Christmas parties, and I have a feeling there’s not a lot we couldn’t do if we joined forces on a more permanent basis.

I tuck that away for later, though. For now, there’s presents to open, skating to do, and of course, Christmas dinner.

Joey comes up to investigate Lina’s new computer, and to take a crooked, low-angle picture of us. Lina looks great, of course, but you can see straight up my nose. I tap on the preview window. “Oh yeah—nostril-cam!”

Joey giggles. Lina lifts him up on the couch so he can get a better shot. The next one comes out pretty much perfect. Katie gets in on the action, snapping us with three different lenses. She and Joe agree that the 20mm takes the best photos, but the fisheye’s the most hilarious. I get the feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of that fisheye.

“Okay, invasion of the paparazzi!” Lina takes Joey’s camera and flips through the pictures. “Save some space for Grandma and Grandpa, hmm?”

“We going over there now?”

“Nope—we’re meeting them at the park for some skating. You kids got your skates ready?”

“Yeah, skating!” Joey runs off, hopefully to get dressed.

“I’d better go after him, make sure he remembers to wear his Christmas sweater.” Lina finishes off the last of her coffee and unfolds herself from the couch. “I haven’t skated in years, by the way. So you’ll be in charge of keeping the kids from faceplanting.”

I laugh. “Katie’s a budding figure skater. But I’ll hold onto Joey.”

As it turns out, Joey’s a pretty good little skater. And padded out the way he is, in his puffy green snowsuit, the few spills he does take prove harmless. Cruising around the rink with a kid on each side of me, watching Lina slip and slide between her parents, feels about as close to heaven as it gets, this side of eternity.

Katie circles around me and takes Joey by both hands. She skates off backwards, pulling him along with her. He laughs and shouts. Lina looks over, smiling. I snap a couple of pictures with my phone.

I’ve always tried not to be too optimistic, not to set myself up for a fall, but picturing a lifetime of Christmases just like this doesn’t seem much of a stretch. I can see it all in my mind’s eye: Katie and Joey growing up, bringing home kids of their own, me and Lina swelling with pride. It all feels quite real, easily within reach.

For once in my life, I’m going to relax and enjoy.