Chapter 3 Kelly Kaplan

Baby’s First Christmas

Four Weeks Until Christmas

I hold up the little knit gingerbread man sweater that just arrived, and I feel a warmth inside my chest. I check the matching one I bought for myself, too, and they’re a perfect match for my little mini-me and myself. I can’t wait to take a photo of the two of us wearing them in front of our tree.

In fact, maybe it’ll be the start of a new tradition. All the things we do this year will be the start of new traditions since it’s Mia’s first Christmas, and I pull the other clothes I ordered out of the box. The Baby’s First Christmas onesie is even cuter in person than it was online, and a heat presses behind my eyes as I think about it.

There’s just something so magical to me about Christmas, and I want to give Mia every inch of that magic each year the way my parents did for me. The torch has been passed to me, and I can’t wait to give her the same experiences I had.

I always woke up on Christmas morning at my grandparents’ house, and my parents assured me that Santa had left my presents under the tree back home. And they were right. I have no idea how he did it, but Santa always managed to visit our house while we were away, and there was nothing more exciting to a seven- or eight-year-old girl than to get home after visiting my grandparents for Christmas so I could check under the tree.

Oh, who am I kidding? I still checked it when I was fourteen or fifteen.

I’d still check it today if I still lived with my parents, to be honest.

But once I moved to Vegas, all that changed. I still head to Chicago for the holidays, but I don’t get to go to Louisiana with my parents once they go back home anymore.

My real Christmas wish this year is for my parents to finally tell me they’re going to move to Vegas…but somehow that seems like a dream that doesn’t have a real chance of coming true. My mom is retired, but my dad is not. He’s an executive for a telecommunications company—the same company that moved my parents from the suburbs of Chicago to Louisiana before I was born—and I know he wants to work until he’s sixty-three for retirement purposes. He still has a couple more years.

Still, a girl can dream of her parents moving closer to her, right? My mom has told me maybe a few times, so I hang my hopes on that.

Speaking of my mom, I give her a call once I get home from work.

“Hey Kel,” she answers. “How’s the cookie business?”

I laugh. “As delicious as always. How are you two doing?”

“We are so excited to see that sweet baby for Christmas. And you, of course. Are you all set with your flight?”

“Yes. Thank you for the points to book it. I only bought one seat, just so you know,” I say.

“Oh, honey, I told you that you could’ve gotten one for Mia,” she scolds.

“It’ll be fine, and I wanted to save you the points so you can visit me more often. Besides, nearly four hours of holding my sweet baby? It sounds like a treat, to be honest,” I say.

“You sound like a new mom,” she says, and it’s probably because I am a new mom. Well, new- ish . She’s not even a year old yet, and everyone tells me to soak in every moment while she’s little, so I’m trying to heed that advice.

“Is it okay if I ship some gifts directly to Grandma?” I ask.

“Of course. Just let her know when to expect them and she’ll probably even wrap them up for you, knowing her,” she says.

My mom is an amazing mom, and it’s because her mom was an amazing mom. I have lots of strong women to look to as good examples, and I’m blessed with strong, kind men, too.

And then there’s Austin. He’s strong, for sure. Kind? Not so much. I have such conflicting feelings for him because I want to be able to make things work with him, but our timing is always just…off.

I’m struggling to feel the sorts of things I felt for him with anyone else. I haven’t been with anybody since I was last with him, and in part, it’s because I’m a busy, single mom. But the other half is because there’s just no one else who compares.

Maybe this Max dude will be the answer.

“I’m going on a date,” I blurt.

“You are?” she asks. “With who? Please say Aus—”

“Not Austin,” I say, cutting her off. I know she likes Austin, but she likes what she knows of him—the hot guy she watches in a football uniform on her television on Sundays who’s a great daddy to her granddaughter. I left out some of the more devious things he’s done. I didn’t see any reason to tarnish his reputation with her, and I guess part of me is still hopeful he’ll change those things. But do people ever really change? “This woman who frequents the bakery is setting me up on a blind date with her grandson.”

“That’s lovely, honey. I hope you have a great time,” she says. I hear the disappointment in her voice.

I sigh. “I know you don’t mean that.”

“Of course I want you to have a great time.” She sniffs a little defensively.

“But just with Austin, not with Max.”

“Max? His name is Max?” she asks, and before she can say something like isn’t that a dog’s name , I jump in.

“He sounds really great,” I lie. I don’t know the first thing about him other than the fact that Mrs. Howard thinks we’d be perfect together, and his name is Max.

I set that aside for now. “Can we talk about Christmas traditions?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“I want to start some new things for Mia, and I have about a million ideas and zero clue how realistic any of them are,” I say.

We launch into a conversation about decorating Christmas trees and drinking hot cocoa and listening to Christmas songs and buying matching ugly Christmas sweaters, and I push aside that weird feeling in my chest.

You know…that strange feeling that maybe Austin would fit right into the picture even better than I could dream. My parents already love him. My daughter worships him.

I think I love him, too.

But I just don’t know if I can trust that he won’t hurt the people I care about…or me. And that’s a risky gamble to take when it comes to my heart.