Page 99 of The Hockey Grump Saves Christmas
“People do that?” I ask.
“Yup,” he says. “I refer you to the chocolate cake laxative incident our goalie suffered three seasons ago.”
“Wow, the hidden dangers of hockey I knew nothing about,” Aunt Lou says, returning and picking up an egg-shaped truffle.
“Nothing to worry about with this stuff, though.” Wyatt grabs a bunny and tears off the gold foil. “This woman’s been following me around for years. She wouldn’t harm a hair on my head.”
“Oh, is it from the one with the long brown hair who always has the ‘Marry Me, Wyatt’ sign?” Gabe asks.
“She has never had a sign saying that,” Wyatt replies before biting off the bunny’s ears.
“Well, she definitely has signs,” Gabe says. “At every game.” He turns a chick over and over in his hands.
“What are you looking for?” I ask him.
“Syringe marks.”
I immediately drop the one I’d picked up. “Seriously?”
“He’s being an ass,” Wyatt says. “Enjoy the treats. She’s a good one.”
And we all start in on the hopefully-not-poisoned Easter candy. Like a little family that gathers for the holidays because we want to, not because we have to.
EPILOGUE
NEXT CHRISTMAS EVE
NATALIE
The sleigh skids a little on the compact snow as Frankie brings the donkey to a stop.
The short ride from around the corner where Dad and I got out of his fully heated car hasn’t been as chilly as I anticipated. The thick cream-colored velvet cloak over my dress and the long veil are warmer than I expected.
And thankfully Mabel didn’t fart once.
People had said Gabe and I were bonkers to plan an outdoor wedding on Christmas Eve, but so far, it’s worked out perfectly.
A snowstorm last night coated everything in a pristine white blanket that glitters under this afternoon’s bright, cloudless sky.
Before I’ve even gathered up my dress enough to set one foot out of the sleigh, Dad has already leapt out.
“I’m coming,” he says as he scurries around the back. “Hold on. I’m coming.”
He appears at my side, holding out his hand.
My gut had told me that I really wanted Aunt Lou to give me away since she’s probably been more of a parent to me than either of my actual parents, and I’m way closer to her.
But I don’t want to hurt anyone. And although I might have learned a whole load of lessons about easing off on the people pleasing, and worrying less about what anyone thinks of me, my parents would definitely have been hurt if I’d made that decision.
The last thing I want is for me or anyone else to have any bad memories of today. I want to be able to look back on this and know all the right choices were made, that everyone was happy and had the best time possible. And that the day was filled with nothing but love and joy.
Aunt Lou appears next to my dad in the beautiful deep red dress and warm, dark green wrap made by Elsie, the Senior Central resident who was one of Diane von Furstenberg’s tailors back in the day—she likes to keep her hand in.
This was the compromise I came up with to make sure we are all happy—Dad gives me away, Aunt Lou is my maid of honor. That way I get to have them both walk up the aisle with me.
If you can call the path from the sidewalk to the bandstand that’s lined with the theater program kids an aisle.
“Changed your mind?” Dad asks, indicating his still outstretched hand that I’ve not yet taken.
