The door to his apartment flies open and a tiny ball of pink tulle and glitter launches herself at him. He barely has a chance to put his bowl of milk on the table before he has no choice but to scoop her up in his arms. He glares at the woman who walks in behind her.

“I see we’ve got the knocking thing down,” he says.

“Mommy says that if you leave your door unlocked, it’s your own fault.”

“Mommy’s full of sage wisdom, isn’t she?”

“She says you need an attitude adjustment and a haircut.”

“Chloe, you’re not supposed to tell all of Mommy’s secrets!” the woman says.

“I didn’t tell Mama that you broke her favorite wine glasses.”

“Oh, but I might,” Asher says. He blows a raspberry on Chloe’s cheek until she squeals and wiggles out of his arms.

I’m speechless. It doesn’t happen very often, but on a rare occasion something can shock me into silence. This is one of those moments. Asher has a heart. I mean, I knew he did, but I wasn’t sure at what capacity he allowed himself to feel things. His niece seems to be the key.

“Are you another one of Uncle Asher’s special friends?” Chloe asks me.

“Special friend?” I look at Chloe and then to Asher, who seems seconds away from an aneurysm.

“Like a girlfriend,” Chloe clarifies. “But Mommy calls them special friends because Uncle Asher is committed to problems—oh, is that a Christmas tree?!”

Chloe loses interest in us as quickly as I lose interest in baseball games.

“Uncle Asher has commitment problems?” Asher runs his hand over his jaw and looks over at Chloe’s mother. “Seriously, Morgan?”

“That girl… the ears on her.”

“The mouth on you,” Asher says.

Morgan grabs Asher’s chin and kisses his cheeks. “I’ve been intent on ruining your life since the day you came into mine.”

“Well done. You’ve succeeded.”

Morgan wrinkles her nose at him before turning to me. “Are you one of Asher’s special friends? Because you look much too sweet and wholesome to have to deal with his sour attitude.”

“I’m his intern.”

A smirk lingers on her lips. “Interns make house calls?”

“They do when they charge Christmas trees to my credit card without my consent.”

“He has no holiday spirit,” I tell her.

“Believe me, I know,” she says. “I swear he woke up one morning and decided to be a little prick.”

“Are you here for a reason?” Asher finally asks. “Or did you come over just to insult me?”

“I’ll have you know that we’re here on official business.”

“Which is?”

“You’re coming to my Christmas pageant, right?” Chloe asks.

She’s sitting on the animatronic reindeer Asher hates so much.

“When is it?”

“December twenty-second,” Morgan says.

“He’ll be there,” I say.