Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Tall and fluffed. I know the drill.” Then, his eyes welled with tears and his lip quivered. “That’s . . . that’s what we always get. Can we . . .”

“Get something different?” I asked, my hand now trembling against his cheek. I brought him forward into my full embrace, rocking him gently. “Whatever you want, my love.”

Jeremiah clutched my back, his fingertips digging into my skin through my thick sweater.

“Love you, my precious boy.”

He nodded, his nose pressed into my neck. “Love you, too, Mom.” He stood with a huff, swiping at his eyes. “’Kay. Well, we’re off.”

I startled. “Right now?”

“Yeah. Gran and Gramps are in the car. I just”—he glanced over at Philip—“I wanted to say bye.”

I nodded, a bit dazed. “Enjoy.”

Jeremiah walked from the room, and I mourned the lack of his normal scamper.

“I read about you online. I didn’t realize the divorce was so new.”

“Found out five days ago,” I said as I turned back to Philip, trying to compose my face into some semblance of listening, but my mind spun back to our first Christmas with Jeremiah. I would never celebrate our daughter’s firsts with Simon. Would I even have the kids next Christmas? My stomach churned as I considered the life of a broken family, splitting time betwixt homes, my children forced to accommodate different traditions.

Simon, why did you do this to us?

6

Simon

The back door was unlatched, just as it always had been. With the small Audi out of the driveway, I assumed the family must be picking out a Christmas tree—one of my favorite traditions they practiced even in Seattle.

I let myself in through the back door, surprised by the butter and crumbs on the counters and plates still on the table. My mother-in-law’s fastidiousness overruled any family outing. My breath caught and held as I wondered if something happened to Ella.

I darted down the back hallway toward the front of the house. Nothing.

No one at all.

The tree stood in the corner of the room, just where it always had. I sighed in relief, thankful for the continuity. But, the tree itself was different. Tall, thin. Not at all the type Ella typically fell in love with. I walked closer, my heart thumping hard in my chest. The ornaments were new, shiny. Scratch-free and in gold and white, colors we’d never used before on a tree here or at our house in Seattle.

I crouched down, grimacing as I noticed the few presents under the tree. Shoved to the very back, deep under the needles, was a bag with my name on it in Ella’s writing. My palms sweated and my heart rate ratcheted, but I managed to tug the bag forward from between the thick needles. I weighed my options.