Page 3 of A Constant Christmas

When Sam and I first got married, she was working as an architect for the Wendell Corporation, the real estate empire my parents had amassed over the years. When she got pregnant, we certainly weren’t expecting twins, so she lessened her workload, only taking on jobs that really interested her.

Then a few years later, the stick turned blue signaling we would be having Jonathan. That one was completely unexpected. Apparently, two exhausted parents didn’t do well at handling birth control. He was a complete surprise but still a welcome one.

Around that time, my parents decided to sell the Wendell Corporation so that they could retire. After that, Sam decided to take a step back from work altogether. Juggling everything just became a bit much.

But at least when she was working, she had something to take her mind off of being a wife and mom. Now, I worry she doesn’t get that much-needed break. And although I try to help out as much as I can, my wife seems to believe she is Wonder Woman and can do it all without asking for the tiniest scrap of help.

Christmas is coming up, and I’ve been trying to figure out ways to surprise her and make this holiday one she won’t easily forget. But I’m at a loss for what to do…especially when the only things she tells me she wants for Christmas are things that she needs. I love my wife, and I’d love to do something more than buy her a robe and some socks for Christmas.

I decide to call in some outside interference. My sister, Tess. Over the years, Sam and Tess have grown pretty close, becoming sisters themselves. I’m pretty sure they formed a bond over complaining about me to one another.

“Hello?” Tess answers on the third ring.

“What are you doing?” I ask, skipping past the greeting.

“Oh, Alexander and I just got back from dinner.”

Alexander is her husband, and needless to say, they are still in the honeymoon phase of their marriage. They started as ‘friends with benefits’ since they were both terrified of commitment, but after they finally got over the bullshit, they fell in love, and here we are.

“What are you doing?” She asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Just got the kids to bed. Hey, I sort of need a favor.”

She chuckles. “I should have known there was a reason for your call. You’re so busy now being a husband and dad, you never call me unless you need something.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m the worst,” I say, rather sarcastically. “Remind me again how often you two stop staring into each other’s eyes to do anything with anyone?”

She sighs. “Okay, point proven. What do you need?”

“It’s Sam. Something is up with her, and I want to know what.”

“What do you mean? I’m sure she’s tired, Ty. Chasing three kids around all day has to be exhausting.”

Tess. Queen of the obvious.

Through gritted teeth, I reply, “Yeah, I got that part. I just need to make sure it’s not something more. Plus, I need you to do some digging and figure out what I could get her for Christmas. Something really special…not just something that she needs.”

She’s silent for a moment, and I can tell she is waging an internal war with herself. She hates being put in the middle of Sam and myself. She says it makes her feel like she is being dishonest with one of us.

I throw in a final, “Please,” to try to get her to jump on board.

“Fine. But I am only doing this because I’m worried about her too. Whatever I find out, you better take to heart, and you BETTER make this the best damn Christmas that woman has ever seen.”

I adamantly agree, and she says she will call Sam shortly to work out some details of when they can get together. I thank her about a million times and try changing the subject to something a bit more fun.

But she doesn’t seem to be in the mood for me when she quips, “I have to go, Ty. Alexander and I have a full night of staring into each other’s eyes planned.”

Before I can tell her she’s full of shit, she hangs up on me. She might be pissy, but at least she agreed to help.

Chapter Three

Sam

As I sit in our larger than life bathtub, I let the hot water lull me into a practical catatonic state. Man, if the water didn’t eventually cool off, I swear I could stay in here forever.

But the water does eventually turn cold, and I force myself to get out. As I am drying off, I tell myself that I definitely should have taken the time to shave my legs.

When was the last time I actually shaved my legs?