I remember talking to my mom and asking her to casually mention how she hires a decorator to decorate the house every holiday. The only thing they don’t do is trim the tree. We still do that together as a family. Mom had suggested Nia hire a decorator, too, since that would save her time, and I saw the wheels turning in her head when she'd looked at me with eyes wide, as if asking if such a thing were possible.
I had nodded and she'd texted my mom for the name of her decorator. That same year, Nia accepted my mother’s invitation to trim the Paradise Christmas tree. Carter had a blast looking through all the ornaments I made as a young boy.
“Your dad had a good laugh at my expense that first year,” I say about our first Christmas as a family.
“He did,” she agrees between giggles.
“I still have nightmares about that.” Nia’s father showed up at our old apartment the weekend after Thanksgiving with about a dozen cardboard cutouts of Mariah Carey dressed as Mrs. Claus. He put them all over the penthouse. It happened while I was out, and when I came home, I had to walk through the maze of Mariahs. My wife loved it, but it still gives me nightmares.
“I’ll only put two up this year,” she promises. “But I can’t wait to decorate the house and get Carter and Priya ready for Santa. And we’re going to announce my pregnancy when we have the family here for our party.”
As much as I’m looking forward to this party, I’m not looking forward to all the other things that come with the holidays. We're spread thin between business obligations and my mom and Nia’s parents’ parties. It’s a juggling act to get through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We spend the night before Christmas with my mom and Christmas morning at home, but Nia’s parents expect us at their place no later than noon. We spend the rest of the day there, and by the time we get home, we’re exhausted.
“I’m looking forward to us getting on the Paradise jet and going to a warmer climate for a few days.” Our first Christmas together, we got on the plane to the Bahamas on December twenty-sixth and didn’t return until January second. We didn’t go last year because Priya was so small, but we’ve already promised Carter and his cousins that we’re going back this year.
Our nephews were so excited when I announced it that they wanted to pack that night. That was two months ago.
Chapter 4
Nia
“I’m worried about it and him,” I say to my husband’s lawyer and best friend, Wyatt, a few days later. With great relief, Drake told me he confided in Wyatt about the letter and video recording. Wyatt is the only one I can speak with about this since we are two of the four people who know these things exist. “He’s acting like it will be fine, but it’s not. How can it be?” I pace Wyatt’s office. “God, between you and me, I hate Donald Paradise so much, Wyatt. Not because of how he felt about me but because of what he’s done to his son. How can a father do this? And then the motherfucker goes and dies before he can pay for his sins.”
Even as the words are out of my mouth, I know I don’t mean them. It’s best that he’s dead. I don’t know what that would mean for me and Drake if he were alive. This way, he still gets to run the company. Everyone in his family supports us,and they love Carter and Priya. If his father were around, he’d have to choose me over him, and the family dynamics would be completely different. I don’t know if Drake and I could have made it as a couple if Donald Paradise was alive.
“He will be fine,” Wyatt says. “He has you. He’ll be okay, but I agree that he needs to deal with this.”
I plop myself down on the sofa in his office and groan. “I know. I support him in this, but he’s hurt and confused by the entire thing. How could he not be?”
“Look, he’s a tough guy. He already knows and accepts what his father did. That’s the first step,” she says.
“I know. And he told me you helped set him straight about that, so thank you.”
“Now, he wants answers and can no longer go to the source. Maybe this will bring him closure.” I’ve considered that, and I hope that’s the case, but I’ve also considered the other possibility.
“Or maybe he’ll have even more questions. Maybe this will bring all his anger back. Maybe he’ll fall into a depression. Maybe—”
“He’s not an angry or a depressed guy.” It’s true. My husband is not. The only time I’ve ever seen him angry was when he thought I had kept our son from him. “He might get upset. He might get sad, but he won’t fall into a deep black hole. He loves you and the kids and will be there to take care of all of you.” Wyatt is right again. Especially now that I’m pregnant again. My husband will be there to take care of me until I deliver this baby, and then after that, he will take care of my every need.
“I wish I could punch his father in the face,” I utter. “Better yet, beat his head in with a spiked baseball bat.”
“Listen, I will tell you the same thing I told Drake. You have everything that his father tried to take from you. You found eachother again. You’re together. You’re happy. You have a beautiful family. Don’t let Donald Paradise take another thing; if you hold on to this anger, that will happen.”
He’s right. Of course, he’s right. My brother said something similar to this a couple of years ago, but I still hurt for my husband. He deserved the same kind of unconditional love he gives to our children, but he didn’t get that. He was lied to and manipulated. And then his coward of a father died without confessing.
“I know,” I say. “I get that, and you’re right, but I just need to vent to someone about this. I still want to punch him.” For good measure, I punch one of the pillows on the sofa before I stand. “And the very idea that he felt I wasn’t good enough for his son because I’m black still pisses me off. He preferred he be with that psycho over me,” I say about Drake’s former fiancée. “She never loved Drake, but I always have. We were happy. Who sits back and lets their kid be unhappy in a relationship? I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I,” Wyatt says. “I can’t refute anything you said. It makes no sense to me. It makes no sense to anyone else who loves Drake.” He’s right.
Over time, I’ve come to love my mother-in-law. I love Drake’s brother and sister too. I don’t know how Donald Paradise could have been part of that family, raise his three kids the way he did, and still do something like this. I’ll never understand it, but he wasn’t my father. I don’t need to, but Drake does, and I want peace for my husband.
“Thanks for listening,” I say to Wyatt.
“What are best friends-in-law for?” he asks with a grin. That’s how he refers to our relationship. We might have had a rocky start, but since I decided to give Drake another chance, Wyatt has also become a friend to me.
Chapter 5
Drake