One month later
After our background checks and home visits were approved, Mariana brought Ruby to live with us. We waited on the porch, Alex’s hand on my back keeping me steady. As she walked up the stairs, a piece of my heart slid into place.
Alex and I had moved in last month, swapping out some of Carol's furniture for a more modern style — and Alex insisted on replacing all the bed sheets so he didn't accidentally have sex on something his grandfather had touched. We knew we only had a short time in the house as just the two of us, so when I suggested we christen every room but Ruby's, he agreed to start right away.
He went through the full foster parent training, treating it as seriously as if he was studying for the Bar exam all over again, even making flash cards. Mallory teased him for his nerdiness, but I could tell it was just his way to deal with his nervous excitement because I felt it too.
During our tour, Ruby asked questions about nearly everything, sliding her hand into mine as Alex calmly fielded questions about the pantry. Mallory had generously given us the boxes of ponies gathering dust in the basement — all except Queen Crysalis, who was only allowed to visit when Mallory was there to keep her in line, because in Mal’s expert opinion, Crys was a prissy bitch.
Elijah came in from his apartment above our garage for macaroni and cheese dinner. Before he left for his overnight shift at the hospital — and boy, had the social workers been excited to meet my brother, with both Megan and Brittany asking if he was single — he whispered in my ear, “Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her.”
After I did bath time, Ruby climbed into Alex’s lap for a bedtime story. As her eyelids drooped closed, she snuggled into his neck and murmured, “My new daddy has blue eyes like Santa.”
I blinked back tears as he carried her to her new bed and brushed her curly hair off her face. We tiptoed out of the room and silently latched the door before the back of his head dropped heavily against the wall. “How long, Grace?”
What did he mean: How long until she woke up? How long until we told her that he was, in fact, Santa? How long would she stay at our house?
His brow furrowed, almost pained. “Grace, how long until we can adopt her?”
I coughed out my surprise. I’d known he was impulsive. Heck, within a month of meeting me, he’d moved across the country and started a new law firm. But somehow, his fierce loyalty to her caught me off guard.
“We shouldn’t rush this,” I said, remembering the timeline provided by the foster care agency, the often years-long wait of applying for guardianship and waiting on court dates. ”I don’t want her to get hurt.”
He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and said “You parent the kids you get, whether you meet them on the day they’re born, or she charms her way onto your lap, asks for a horse, and tricks you into kissing the love of your life.”
I closed my eyes to plan the argument that he couldn’t buy her an actual horse, and when I opened them, he was wearing his ‘ready-to-negotiate’ expression. “I know the paperwork could take a while, but that's all the more reason to start now. I never want her to wonder if she belongs with us. It would be easy to explain, the way that Petal Shy’s family adopted Twilight Sparkle.”
This man, who never did things halfway, had already rearranged his life around her. His pleading look told me he’d do anything for her.
My heart stuttered as I fell in love with him all over again. I already loved Alexander Clarke, the loving partner, the annoyed older brother, the responsible lawyer. But this time I fell in love with Alexander Clarke, the doting father.
At that moment, I wished that I could go back in time to talk to the scared little girl in Nanna’s bedroom. I wanted to squat down to align our gazes and say, “Listen: It’s going to be hard for a long time. But you’re strong, and brave, and you’ll be ok as long as you trust who you are, right here,” I would say, tapping gently over her heart. “For I know the plans I have for you: I will bless you with a future filled with hope: a future of success, not of suffering.”
Eight years ago, I drove away from my biological family, and for so long I’d been looking back, wishing for what I had. But as I stood outside my daughter’s bedroom, filled with toys from my best friend, in the dream home I shared with the man I loved, satiated from a meal with my twin, I realized: I had the family I'd always wanted. They were just waiting for me to be ready.
I rested a gentle hand on Alex's cheek. “We can start the adoption paperwork tomorr—OH!”
His hands landed on my butt to lift me up and carry me towards our bedroom, as he whispered into my ear, “You, Grace Alvarez, are a dream come true.”
Chapter 46
Epilogue
Next Christmas
My wife’s laughter is the best Christmas gift. It rises from our kitchen, mixed with her twin’s softer laugh and our daughter’s giggle. At first, I teased her for her ‘early to bed, early to rise’ routine, wishing she would stay in bed longer, but waking up to the smell of fresh baked apple pies isn’t so bad.
I pull on my Santa jacket over my flannel pajamas. Along the way downstairs, I enjoy all seven of our Christmas trees. Mom was thrilled when I asked her to find full suites of ornaments so that we could have a rainbow tree, a snowflake tree, and a peppermint tree. Ruby’s room has a pony tree, Elijah decorated one with angels and nativities, and Mal covered one entirely in glitter ornaments, which sheds like a month-long glitter bomb.
My favorite is in our bedroom, top-to-bottom in Santa ornaments. Grace said it’s excessive. I reminded her that I’m extra. She made me promise not to go so overboard next year. I told her I’m not great at keeping my promises if it means I get to see her smile.
Elijah swooned. Mallory gagged.
As I hop down the stairs, my heart skips a beat at the scene in our kitchen: my wife and my brother-in-law, singing Christmas carols together. Ruby stands on a stool between Elijah’s arms, both their hands on the rolling pin as he demonstrates how to roll out the pie crust. They’re wearing holiday aprons, Elijah’s early gift: Grace’s is Mrs. Claus, Elijah is an elf, and Ruby’s is a unicorn-reindeer. My Santa apron hangs on its hook next to the oven.
When Ruby sees me, her face lights up and she squeezes out from under Elijah’s arms to run to me. I lift her up and spin, and she giggles and says, “Merry Christmas, Daddy. You don’t have to wear your pretend suit today, the real Santa told me he usually spends Christmas sleeping.”
“It’s so cozy, is it ok if I wear it for one more day?”
She nods in agreement and heads back to her uncle while I grab an apple and start turning the coring machine. I swear, our house has become an unlicensed apple pie bakery for every unit in the hospital, including a dedicated pie for Dr. Tran. I got the girl, so I guess he can have his own pie.
Grace slides a pie out of the oven — I don’t think I’ll ever tire of that view of her ass. The pan wobbles as she sees me working in my official Santa jacket and bursts out laughing. I pretend to be offended that she would laugh at her hardworking, diligent husband.
Husband, that still sounds so good.
She wraps her arms around my waist under the Santa jacket. This suit has gotten me major action this holiday season. I would have volunteered for all the Santa events just to make her happy. But knowing that every time I don the suit, she’ll take it off me with that look in her eye? This Santa has had a packed calendar.
From the hallway, mariachi music echoes. I groan dramatically and abandon my apples to pour a cup of coffee. Mal bought an old boombox at a thrift shop, along with a cassette tape of 'Feliz Navidad.' My sister, my wife, my brother-in-law and my daughter yell full volume and spin each other in ridiculous dance moves for the full three minutes and three seconds.
Not that I have a silent countdown of how long this song is.
I’ve been going to meditation classes at their studio, and while they wail, I remind myself: Grace inexplicably agreed to spend the rest of her life with me. I can endure the next three minutes and three seconds of this for her.
It almost makes up for the screeching.
Next to arrive are my parents, who picked up Ruby's grandma Jean. We see her a few times a month, either for dinner or Ruby's preschool recitals. Ruby skips to give her a warm hug, and also greets my parents, who have become her Oma and Opa.
Carol and Terry arrive next, since they're staying with my parents for the holidays. At first, Mom resented giving up hosting Christmas, but we have to host, legally. That had been one of Carol’s contingencies of the sale of their house: a Christmas invitation in perpetuity, to watch the next generation enjoy this home. I’d balked, not finding any precedent for such a clause, but thankfully Victoria’s real estate knowledge had outpaced mine and Dad wrote us an airtight Christmas Clause.
