Page 10 of Wild Christmas
He raises his eyebrows. “I guess I don’t know shit about computers.”
“Correct. So you fix my bike, and next time your laptop needs an update, you bring it to me and I’ll sort you out.”
Luke grins and indicates his chariot. “You need a lift home?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
He wheels himself onto the platform and folds his seat against it. I take a seat on the passenger side. I’m notused to riding pillion, but the kid is excited to tell me all about the bike and I can’t deny him the pleasure.
He’s as passionate about bike mechanics as I am about fixing tech. I don’t understand all the bike terms he’s telling me, but I understand the passion and enthusiasm.
He’s a different kid than the one who turned up two years ago broken and feeling sorry for himself. He lost both his legs in Afghanistan, which is a shitty thing for anyone and especially a guy so young.
It’s good to see him happy now as he tells me about every adaptation he’s made for his bike.
We chat for a while, then he starts her up and we head home. I’ll bring the Tesla back tomorrow and tow my bike home, but right now I need to see what the hell Freya’s done to my house.
6
NATE
Before I open the door, I hear them singing. It’s some famous Christmas shit that gets blasted every year whenever you go into a grocery store or any shop, even at the damn gas station.
I turn around, wondering if I should go back to the clubhouse, but Luke is already retreating down the drive. There's nothing for it but to go into the cabin.
I punch in the code and push the door open. Alongside the music and way too loud bass, the sounds of laughter reach my ears.
I pad down the hallway and pause when I get to the living room. The blinds are drawn, and in the middle of the room is Dora's speaker shooting multicolored laser lights onto the white walls.
Hanging from the rafters are colorful streamers made out of pieces of crepe paper woven together. They should look scraggly and forlorn, but in the flashing lights theyseem cheerful, and knowing that my girls made them gives them a festive rather than messy look.
The fake tree sits in the corner wrapped in tinsel so tight it's as if it's been done up in bubble wrap and ready to ship.
Green tinsel is draped over the fireplace, which I'll have to remove because that is clearly a fire hazard.
They haven't seen me yet, and I lean against the door frame and watch them.
Freya has her back to me and her head is tilted back as she belts out the lyrics to what is fast becoming my favorite Christmas song. The girls sing along with her, Dora shouting the words and Maisie trying to keep up, laughing when she doesn't know the words.
Maisie jumps on the spot, waving her arms about, which is her four-year-old best dance move, while Dora twirls and swirls, catching Freya's hand in hers as Freya spins her around.
My chest tightens as I watch them. This is what a happy home looks like. This is what a woman brings to a home, fun and laughter and chaos.
Is this what the girls would have had if their mother had lived? I shake the thought out of my head. There's no point in thinking about what might have been.
If their mother had lived, she would have taken them from me in the divorce settlement. I would have been restricted to only seeing my girls on weekends when I was on home leave, because I would probably still be in the military. The thought makes me shudder. Of course I would have preferred for Becky to have lived. No onewould wish what happened on their worst enemy, let alone the mother of their children. But nonetheless, I’m grateful for how my life has turned out and that I get to see my girls every day.
The last nanny was nothing like Freya. When I told Freya she left because she didn't like me, that was only half true. The girls didn't like her. She was strict and made them cry. I'm strict and I make my girls cry sometimes when I tell them off, but that's a father's prerogative. There certainly wasn't any dancing and singing and jumping about the living room, with mesmerizing hips swaying the way Freya’s do.
The song changes and Freya spins around. She stops mid spin when she sees me. Her eyes go wide in the most adorable way. Her skin is flushed, her cheeks rosy, and her hair hangs loose and whips around her face. She lunges for the speaker and hits stop. The music continues coming out of her phone, a tinny sound, and she grabs that and turns it off too.
“Sorry, I didn't hear you come in.”
She looks anxious, and she must think I’m a real ogre if she's scared of playing a bit of music.
“It's fine.” I switch on the lamp by the door so I can fully assess what they've done to my living room.
Dora runs up to me. “Do you like it, Daddy? We made streamers and we hung tinsel. And we did the tree.”
