Page 103 of Watch Me
“Who could that be?” I wondered out loud and started walking toward the frontdoor.
“I heard Santa was in the area,” Reagan responded. “Maybe it’s him?”
Cohen sucked in a breath as he started walking behind me. “Why would Santa be at our house?” I questioned and reached for the doorknob. I opened it and almost started to laugh when I saw Rhys Cole dressed in a red and white suit, black boots, a black belt, a Santa hat, and agiantbelly. He even, of course, had the white beard and a red sack over hisshoulder.
“Ho, ho, ho,” he said in a deepvoice.
“Santa!” the boys shouted at the sametime.
“Cohen! Tyson! I knew I’d find you here,” Rhys replied, his voice still deep. He steppedinside.
“You did?” Cohenasked.
I closed the door and draped an arm around Reagan’s shoulders as we followed behind the three, watching the show and sipping our wine.
“I had to come find you because I have something special for both of you.”
“What is it?” Tysonasked.
“Come into the living room, and I’ll show you.”
The three of them did just that. Rhys sat on the couch, the boys on the floor in front of him. I looked at Reagan, and she was grinning ear to ear. I kissed the side of her head as so many emotions raced through me. In less than an hour, I was going to get down on one knee—something I’d wanted to do for as long as I could remember—and ask her to be my wife.
“Let me get a picture real quick,” Reagan said and grabbed her phone from the back pocket of herjeans.
Rhys patted his legs, and the boys climbed onto each leg. After Reagan got her picture, she returned to my side, and the boys resumed their position of sitting on the floor in front of Rhys.
“I brought a book to read to you,” Rhys opened his redbag.
“You did?” Cohenasked.
Rhys pulled the thin classic hardcover book from the bag. This version had Santa’s face on thecover.
“That’s you!” Tyson stated as he pointed at thebook.
Rhys mock-gasped. “That is me!”
“There’s a book about you?” Cohenasked.
“Many, but this one is about the night before Christmas, which is tonight.”
“What does it say?” Cohen continued toquestion.
Rhys opened the book, and Reagan and I watched as he read the short poem, showing them each picture after he read thepage.
“That was an old story,” Cohenstated.
Rhys gave a big belly laugh while Reagan and I stifled our own chuckles. “It’s because I’m old,” Rhys replied in his deep Santavoice.
“How old?” Tysonprobed.
“Very,” Rhysreplied.
“Older than my grandpa?” Cohen asked. We all laughedagain.
“Yeah, Cohen. I’m older than all the grandpas.”
“That’s old,” Tyson said matter-of-factly. We all chuckledagain.
