Page 108 of My Favorite Holidate
Mac brightens but then takes a beat. “Actually…why don’t you two do it and I’ll take a picture?”
She gestures to the Nikon she brought that’s sitting on the living room table, by the tree. Like she has something up her sleeve, since she always does.
“If you insist,” I say.
Fable heads over to the living room tree that’s already decorated with department-store-style decor—red and gold balls, white icicle lights, and candy canes that must’ve been hung by the decorators here at the—fine, okay—chalets.
Fable tests the ornament in various spots, positioning it just so, looking for the perfect branch. My heart does a funnythud-thudas she scrutinizes each one carefully. Idon’t know why I find this endearing, but I do. Maybe because she’s strategic in her own way.
After she tests a few options, she declares, “This should be three-quarters of the way up.”
I expect her to turn to me and ask my opinion, of which I have none, but she spins around and looks at Mac. “What do you think? Does that feel like the right spot for it?”
Mac gives a very serious nod. “That is the perfect spot. You want a special ornament to have that kind of location.”
Special ornament.Yes, Mac has something up her sleeve.
Fable smiles at Mac with a twinkle in her hazel eyes. “Exactly what I was thinking too.”
Mac bobs a shoulder. “We’re both kind of brilliant.”
Fable inclines her head Mac’s way. “Kind of? I would say wearebrilliant.”
“No lies detected,” Mac agrees.
My chest floods with a warmth that spreads to my bones. But it’s not fatherly pride exactly. It’s more…familial pride. And it feels damn good.
Oh fuck.
No. This can’t happen. I can’t get caught up in this homey feeling. I can’t let this cozy morning take over my entire being like it’s threatening to do. This is merely a fun little moment in our reindeer games. That’s all.
I have to remind myself that this—the three of us hanging ornaments—isn’t my new future. It’s merely an item on today’s agenda.
I do my best to shake off the feelings as Fable positions the ornament while Mac brings the camera to her eye. “Dad, stand a little closer,” she says.
Yep. She’s mistletoe-ing us again, trying to get us together. I chuckle to myself over her efforts. Still, I’ll pretty much take any chance I can get to be near Fable. I slide next to her and reach for her hand, and we lift the ornament together. I cover her hand with mine.
Snap, snap, snap.
“Perfect,” Mac states.
And for a moment, everything feels terribly, completely perfect.
Best to let go.
I jerk my hand away and hunt around for something to make light of the moment. Like, say, teasing Mac. “So, was that like when you engineered the mistletoe?”
Her mouth falls open. She’s utterly aghast. “Dad!”
I can’t help it. I crack up. Fable’s clearly fighting off a grin too. “So you hung it?” Fable asks.
“He wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Mac says, indignant, then she shoots me a look that says she can’t believe I busted her.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m the worst.”
“Yes, you are,” Mac says.
Fable walks over to Mac. “Let me tell you something—the mistletoe was an excellent touch,” she says, then she shoots me a flirty look. “I very much approved of it.”