“Merry Christmas Eve, guys. How about this snow?”
“I know, right?” The camera shifted as Addy panned through the large wall of windows in her dad’s living room. Beyond the tornado of baby toys and piles of wrapped presents, the snow fell.
“Beautiful,” I said. Betty nosed her way into the frame, always happy to hear the kids’ voices.
“How was the concert? Did you feed Whinnie?”
“The concert was great. Whinnie is fine. She had her supper and she’s bedded down for the night,” I assured her.
“What are you having for dinner?” Shane asked.
“Chicken,” I said, holding up my plate so they could see.
“Is Mark there?” Addy asked. I wasn’t imagining the tone. Both kids had met Mark once or twice. Neither of them liked him.
Vonn snickered, and I shot him a disapproving look.
“No. Mark’s not here,” I hedged. “Something came up.”
“Told you she’d end up alone on Christmas Eve,” Shane said, shoving his sister.
“Oh my God, Mom!” Addy screeched. “What happened to your head?” Somewhere in the background, their half sister added her voice to my daughter’s distress.
I winced. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“You have a head injury and you’re alone on Christmas Eve,” Addy said in a half shout.
“This blows,” Shane said.
“I’m fine. Betty and I are relaxing. It was just a minor bump on the head at the concert. I didn’t even need stitches.”
Vonn rolled his eyes at my little white lie.
“I’m coming to get you. You shouldn’t be alone,” my son said firmly.
The last thing I needed was to be treated like an invalid old lady at my ex-husband’s house on Christmas.
“You’re not going out on these roads. It’s not supposed to stop snowing until morning. Stay at your dad’s, and I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.”
My kids gave each other a look. “Fine. But text us when you go to bed and then call as soon as you wake up,” Addy said. Shane nodded.
“Fine, weirdos. Now go play with your sister before she eats her way through that gift box.”
“Bye, Mom! We love you!”
“Bye, guys. Love you too.” I blew them a kiss and ended the call.
I tossed the phone onto the cushion and went back to my plate. I could feel Vonn’s attention on me.
“How bad of a guy am I when it’s better to let your kids think you’re spending Christmas Eve alone instead of with me?” he wondered.
I nudged him with my foot. “Funny. If I told my kids I was shacked up for the night with Vonn Barlowe, they’d strap on snowshoes just to get back here.”
“Fans?” he asked, capturing my foot with his hand.
Even through the thick layer of sock, I liked the contact. A lot. “They grew up with me as their mother. They didn’t have a choice,” I said, trying to sound normal.
“So we got a deal or what, babe?” Vonn asked, his thumb pressing into the arch of my foot. It felt like heaven, and I almost forgot what he was talking about.