We both burst into laughter, mine more due to surprise.
“Thatch said that?”
“Trust me, it was a rare moment,” she grumbles, “I’m starting to think I imagined it.” She glances around the room, my father’s shrine to the King of Rock and Roll.
“I feel sorry for the poor bastard stuck sleeping in here.”
“Seriously,” I say, eyeing the room. “This really is embarrassing. Glad I’m not bringing someone new into the mix this year. The more crap he buys, the harder it is to explain.”
“He brought it all from home, so he didn’t have to get rid of it.”
“Gotta love Dad.”
Just as I say it, Dad curses, his lower half and the ladder in our peripheral through one of the three large study windows. We both laugh when he peers through it to see if Mom heard him curse.
“Doing all right, Daddy?” Serena booms, so he’s able to hear her.
He gives us a thumbs up before he disappears from view.
Smiling, I turn back to Serena, giving her wide eyes. “Mom said Gracie got her period?”
“She did, and I have to be honest, at the moment, I can’t stand her. You might want to play buffer for her the next few days. I’m not sure I can abstain much longer from tossing her off the cliff. Please help me. You’re the only one she listens to.”
“I’ve got this. But first, where is my baby?”
“He’s napping. Can you believe he slept through that meltdown? He’s avoiding Gracie better than Dad is.”
“And my other baby?”
“Thatch just laid down. I think he’s got PTSD from the six-hour road trip turned eight—because kids.”
“Poor baby. That bad?”
I look her over in her typical oversized hoodie, leggings, and messy bun as she nods. We share the same blonde hair color and build, but Serena beats me by several inches in height. Other than that, it’s glaringly obvious that we’re sisters.
“Thatch has no idea how to talk to his daughter at the moment. I swear I saw him tear up in fear last night when I told him.” She leans in conspiratorially. “I’m going to go clean out the garage if that’s okay?”
Cleaning out the garage is code for adult-only activity.
“Go for it.”
“You said you didn’t want to be stuck babysitting while you’re here.” Her voice is mournful, and I immediately regret saying it. She’s worried enough Gracie is intolerable for everyone else.
“I was in a mood. I can handle it for a bit.”
“Sure you can handle her, them?”
“Girl, please, bye.”
“Good luck,” Mom mutters from the kitchen through the peek-through window into the den.
“She’s not that bad, Mom,” Serena scolds.
Silence.
“She’s not,” my sister defends, turning back to me. “She’s just a little high-strung.”
“She’s a wrecking ball. But I’ve got this. Now, can I wake him?”
Serena grins, knowing that my nephew is the only acceptable payment for distracting her kids to give her some ‘me’ time. “Sure, he’s been down long enough.” My niece greets me at the foot of the stairs just as I’m about to go up.
“Ready?”
“I’m going to get your brother up. I’ll be right back.”
She nods. “Okay, I’ll get set up.” I pull Gracie into my arms. The little girl I know vanishing day by day. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”
“Merry Christmas, Auntie Whit.” She’s got a mix of the blonde and some strawberry from her father. But she’s every bit a Collins girl already. Independent, forthright, and mouthy. Her mother’s brown eyes widen as she looks over at me.
“I have something to tell you.”
“Oh?” I feign surprise. Secrets don’t last minutes in this family, no matter who the confidant.
Her cheeks redden a little. “It’s a woman thing.”
“I’m intrigued. Can’t wait.” I pop her on the butt. “Give me ten.”
“K.”
She races to the dining table with my makeup arsenal as I take the stairs, following the grown man snore to the end of the hall. It amazes me just how fast men fall asleep as if they don’t have a worry in the world. Grammy used to say, give a man a slab of cement and he’ll find a way to make a bed out of it. I peek in on Thatch to see he’s completely out, mouth wide, his strawberry blond hair in desperate need of a cut. Aside from my sister, he’s one of my closest friends. They’ve been together so long that in a way, it feels like we grew up together. More than once—on especially bad days—he’s talked me off the ledge, not out of obligation but because he genuinely cares about me. Patient, kind, caring, devoted—Thatch set the standard for me on the husband front. Over the years, I’ve watched him morph from a passive boyfriend into a super husband. As much as my sister bitches about his antics, he’s one of the best humans I know. Tolerant to the point of sainthood. Not only that, he gifted me two of the people I love most in the world.