Chapter 30 Austin Graham

I Love These Reindeer Pajama Pants

Christmas Morning

I help Kelly’s dad drag two extra chairs into the family room so we can all gather by the tree, and Kelly’s grandma tells us to take the love seat. We do, with Mia perched between us—for the moment, anyway. Kelly’s grandpa turns on Christmas music, and her dad finds the Netflix fireplace channel, and it’s all so…cozy. Idyllic. Perfect.

Similar to the vibe Kelly built at her own house.

It’s what every parent wants for their kid. What every man wants for the woman he loves. It’s all the things I associated with Christmas before my parents got divorced.

All I ever really wanted was the kind of warmth I feel here today. And maybe that’s what I’ll have in my future going forward—if everything goes as planned today, anyway.

I’m nervous as fuck, but I put on my game face. I have to.

Mia climbs off the couch—before the grandparents have even taken their seats yet—and she beelines right for a huge box wrapped in pink paper that has unicorns wearing Santa hats on it. At least she knows which box is for her. She starts clawing at the paper, and the four other adults aside from Kelly and myself turn their full attention to Mia as they beam at how talented she is at just under one year already opening her own gifts.

I scoot a little closer to Kelly, and I set my hand lightly on her thigh. I give it a little squeeze, and she looks over at me with a smile.

“Have I ever told you how much I love these reindeer pajama pants on you?” I ask, my voice low.

She giggles as she leans in toward me. “Have I ever told you how much I love you ?”

I shake my head. “Not today.”

She leans in closer still, lowering her voice to be sure only I hear her. “I thought I showed you that pretty well last night.”

I put up my hand for a high-five, and she slaps my palm with hers as we both laugh.

Her mom glances over at us, a little smile playing at her lips, and I know she feels it, too—the warmth in here. The love in here. The absolute perfection of this morning that’s only going to get better.

Mia gets the box open and seems pretty damn excited about the musical instrument playset that someone was gracious enough to put batteries in before wrapping.

We listen to the loud, grating sounds of guitar and drums and organ the way only an almost one-year-old can play them.

Kelly leans over to me again. “Damn. I think it might be too big to fit into any of our suitcases, so I guess we’ll have to leave it here.”

I laugh, and Kelly’s mom passes out presents for each of us to open—including me.

I give her a surprised look. “You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

“I was sending it home with Kelly anyway.” She smiles and shrugs, and the way she can so easily make me feel like I’m a part of this family even though Kelly and I just got back together is really special.

I tear it open and find a custom cutting board with GRAHAM 41 engraved on it. I feel oddly emotional over something that’s just a piece of wood, and yet…it means so much more than that.

It means someone thought of me. It means someone considered the things I like, the things that are important to me, and then they placed an order for something special.

A thick lump forms in my throat as I stare down at the board. Nobody has ever given me a gift like this before, and I’m not quite sure how to respond. I’m used to clothes I’ll never wear or video games or generic items I could just buy for myself.

This has meaning behind it.

“Kel said you like to cook,” her mom says. “We hope you like it.”

“I love it,” I say, my voice a whisper as her mom smiles warmly at me.

Kelly reaches over and sets her hand on my thigh this time, and it seems to mark the moment when I feel true acceptance for maybe the first time in my life. I feel like a part of the family, and it’s a powerful, wonderful feeling.

We laugh as we watch Mia, who definitely has the most gifts under the tree, tear into all of them, and we smile as we watch each other open our gifts.

Kelly’s mom hands her a huge box, and Kelly laughs as she says, “I have no idea how we’re going to get all this home.”

She tears open the paper to find a box covered in packing tape. She finds the scissors and slits open the tape only to find another wrapped box inside.

And another, and another.

Her parents are looking at her with twinkling eyes when she finally gets down to the final box and pulls out a piece of paper.

She gasps and holds a hand over her mouth for a second. “For real?” she asks.

Both her parents are grinning and nodding when she leaps to her feet to hug them both, and I grab the piece of paper she left behind in the box.

Surprise! We’re moving to Vegas!

My chest warms at the thought that we’ll have actual family nearby. What a gift.

“This is the best Christmas ever !” Kelly says, and she doesn’t even know the half of it yet.

When we get down to the final three gifts under the tree, I get up to pass them out. They’re all the same, and I give one to Kelly’s grandma, one to Kelly’s mom, and one to Kelly.

“You can open them at the same time,” I say, and Kelly glances at the other women in the room before she tears into hers.

Her eyes shine brightly with tears when she looks up at me after seeing the gift inside—a canvas print of our very first family photo together, the one where we’re all wearing our matching gingerbread man sweaters and standing by the Christmas tree on a day that felt like the start of a family tradition for us.

“This is so thoughtful, Austin,” Kelly’s mom says as she stares down at the photo and wipes away the tears splashing onto her cheeks.

That lump is back in my throat again, and I need to get a handle on my emotions or I’ll never get through the final gift.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Kelly’s dad says. “Thank you all for the thoughtful gifts. Now let’s make some hot cocoa with peppermint schnapps!”

The adults all get up to get a start on what sounds like their next tradition, but I speak up. “Wait!”

Everyone freezes where they are.

“There’s one more,” I say.

Kelly’s mom inspects the space under the tree, but it’s empty. Everyone looks at me in confusion, and I draw in a deep breath.

“I, uh…” I begin, and I think I black out for a second as I try to remember what the fuck I wanted to say. “Thank you all for allowing me to crash your Christmas. This is the nicest, warmest, most wonderful Christmas morning I think I’ve ever had in my life.”

Kelly stands and slings her arm around my waist, and I lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head as my heart races.

“I’d like to be a part of all of your Christmas mornings,” I say, looking down at her. Her brown eyes lift to mine, and warmth radiates from her as I turn in and take her into my arms in front of the people who mean the most to her in the whole world. “In some ways, this feels too soon. In other ways, it’s been coming since the night I met you at the Gridiron almost two years ago. I love you, Kelly Kaplan. I love our daughter, and I love the life we’re building together. I love your family. I struck out with my own family, but sometimes we’re lucky enough to get to pick the people who become our family. And this is the one I pick. It’s the one I want to be in forever.”

I get down on one knee and pull the ring out of my pocket where it has nestled since I woke up this morning.

My hands are trembling as I hold the ring out in front of me. “Will you marry me?”

Her hands fly to her mouth in shock as she gasps, and then she shakes them out. “Oh my God! Yes!” She holds her left hand out, and I slide the ring onto her finger. She admires it for only a quick second as I rise to a stand, and she leaps against me, her mouth crashing to mine as we celebrate this moment.

It’s one more core memory created because of her, and as we kiss to the sound of clapping and whooping in the room, I get this sense of déjà vu for something that hasn’t even happened yet as I picture the two of us sealing our vows with a kiss at our wedding as our guests clap and whoop all around us.

It’s just the beginning of the future I never knew I could have, and I definitely don’t deserve, but I plan to spend the rest of my days grateful for all of it anyway.