For as much as I always sort of knew things with Leslie wouldn’t stick, getting dumped still sucks. It’s a shot to the ego for sure, and yet another reminder that I’m sailing through my thirties with no hope of doing the normal thing and starting a family.

But the more interesting part is how secretly relieved I am by that fact.

My life isn’t normal. It hasn’t been since I was nineteen and I inherited a two-year-old.

Checking my watch, I find that it’s after five in the evening. Everyone’s itching to go home, which is what I should be doing, too; heading back to our quiet little house to spend yet another Christmas with the only person I have to worry about in this world.

Back in the car and driving slowly over the icy roads, I think about my parents. I don’t think about them often, but the holidays usually bring about these kinds of musings.

An only child to two dope fiends, I emancipated myself legally at seventeen. After that, my friends became my family, and the two best ones I had were Trent and Himla. We grew up together, basically inseparable, in similar familial situations. Which is why when Himla became pregnant, it was never a question as to who would be the baby’s godfather.

Unfortunately, I never anticipated it being a job I’d have to take on only two years later.

I still remember the night I got the call…

Fear crawls up my spine as the sounds of my own cries fill my memories. The shaking in my hands as I held a frightened two-year-old Jesse, whispering to him that everything would be okay, though I was severely unsure of those promises myself.

It’s something you can never prepare for… A loss and an unexpected gift all in one tragic night.

That’s what Leslie doesn’t understand. It could never be a choice.

When it comes to Jesse, nothing else matters.

I’m placing a red bow on the gift box when I hear the front door slam.

Scrambling, I stuff it underneath the Christmas tree just in time as James shuffles around the corner. I use my body to block the wrapping paper on the floor, not that it really matters. People wrap gifts before Christmas. It’s nothing shocking.

He stomps up to me with his arm thrust out, a small paper bag clutched in his grip. I accept it graciously, though the waves of tension radiating from him don’t feel very Christmas-cheery.

“Thanks.” I open the bag to peek inside, a grin forming on my lips. Cake pop. Yum.

“You eat yet?” He grumbles, not waiting for an answer before he’s stalking toward the kitchen.

My brow furrows as I follow him. “It’s kind of early…” He glances at me over his shoulder when he reaches the marble island, cocking a brow. “But yea, I did,” I continue. “Like five times already.”

There’s the subtlest quirk to his mouth, though it looks like he’s trying to keep it contained.