by Nikki Paris
Kiss Me,
Baby
A Christmas Novella
Nikki Paris
Copyright © 2020 Nikki Paris
All rights reserved.
Sophie
I had my alarm set for 5 am, but before it could go off, I felt sticky little fingers smooshing my cheeks. How were Max’s hands already sticky?
“Momma?” My three-year-old son made absolutely no effort to lower his voice. “I found some candy. You wanna try it?”
Max slapped a wet, sticky candy cane against my forehead. I tried to hold in my groan. It was Christmas. Max was three. He was trying to share. I sighed instead. “Baby, it’s too early for candy. Can I try it later?”
Max nodded. “Otay.” Then he stuck the candy cane back into his mouth.
Ugh. What time was it? I glanced at my phone— 4:30 am. Hold on, why did Max have a candy cane? The only candy canes in the house were on the mini candy cane trees I’d artfully crafted for the kids. And those were sitting on top of their present stacks. I sat up in bed and switched on my lamp, blinking against the sudden bright light. “Max, where did you find that candy?”
“Downstairs. I found the toys, too.”
“Max, did you open the presents by the Christmas tree?”
“Yup.” He noisily sucked his candy cane.
Again, I fought to hold in my groan. “All of the presents?”
“Yup.” Max was nonplussed.
My heart sank. I didn’t get to see his face when he opened his giant digger truck. Then my heart raced. He opened Mia’s presents, too. Shit. Mia would be furious with her little brother for opening all of her gifts.
“Aiden!” I reached over and shook my husband awake. I was torn between amazement and frustration that he’d managed to sleep through everything up to this point.
Aiden rolled over, blinking in confusion and shielding his eyes from my lamplight. “What’s going on?” he mumbled.
“Max just opened all of the presents. Mia’s, too. I need you to keep him quiet while I go do some damage control.” I scooped Max up in my arms and plopped him down next to Aiden in bed.
Max reached over and patted Aiden’s beard with his sticky candy hands. “Whoa, what is all over your hands, little man?”
I sighed and said, “Candy canes. It’s all over my face now, too.”
Aiden met my tired gaze and nodded. “Perfect. No, that’s awesome. Cool, cool, cool.” Aiden sat up in bed and caught the back of Max’s pajamas as he tried to escape. “Come here, dude. Let’s watch a show on my phone.”
“Yay!” Max yelled and dropped his candy cane on my pillow.
I wandered down the hallway and peeked into Mia’s room. Our seven-year-old diva was still fast asleep. Thank God. I hurried down the stairs to assess the damage and finally stopped trying to hold back my groans.
For all of Max’s faults, he was an honest kid. He had, in fact, opened every single present. The rug and couch were littered with shiny scraps of wrapping paper, and boxes were strewn all around the living room.
I wanted to cry. I’d stayed up until midnight last night, painstakingly wrapping each gift and stacking them in neat little piles. The stockings that I’d filled with candy, oranges, and hand-knitted mittens were all up-ended beneath the tree.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Suddenly I heard little feet thundering down the stairs, followed by Aiden’s loud whisper. “Max! Max, buddy, come back!”
Next was Mia’s voice. “Daddy, is it Christmas now?”
I whipped around and met Aiden’s gaze as Max plowed into me. “Momma!”
Aiden patted the top of Mia’s head as she gazed down the stairs with a look of horror. “What happened?” she wailed.
“Uh…” Aiden scratched his jaw and said, “I think maybe… a…” He looked at Max, and I shook my head. Mia was always angry with her little brother lately. The last thing we needed was to throw him under the bus.
Aiden snapped his fingers. “You know, Mia? I think that a naughty elf snuck onto Santa’s sleigh last night.”
“Yep!” I chimed in. “And this elf did a silly prank, kind of like in that show you’ve been watching. It wasn’t very nice, but he didn’t take anything. I just checked.”
Mia frowned. “A prank? I didn’t think Christmas elves did pranks.” She headed down the stairs with narrowed eyes. Then she spotted the glittery purple microphone that Aiden had picked out for her. She gasped and made a beeline for it. “Please tell me this is for me!”
I let out a long slow breath and nodded. “Yep, sweetie. Santa must have brought that for you.”
Mia grinned and rushed over to the box, tearing it open and immediately asking for batteries. Aiden came down to grab some batteries from the kitchen, with Mia right on his heels.
I sank to the floor and leaned my back against the couch. Max dove onto my lap with a mouth full of chocolate. I brushed his curly dark hair from his forehead and whispered, “Baby, you were supposed to wait for everyone to open presents. Please don’t be a naughty elf next year.”
Max grinned at me and gave me a big, chocolatey kiss right before Aiden and Mia returned to the living room. Mia was already singing a song from Frozen II at the top of her lungs, and Max was bouncing around the room, taking a closer look at his handiwork.
Aiden sat beside me and sighed. “You know, that could have been a lot worse. Disaster averted.” He held up his hand for a high-five.
I let out a dry laugh and returned his high-five. “I guess, babe.” It didn’t feel like a disaster had been averted. The living room looked like a tornado had blown through it. All of our Christmas fun was over by 5 am, and the kids were literally eating candy for breakfast.
But at least Mia and Max weren’t fighting. Maybe Aiden was right. I sighed. “We didn’t get any pictures or videos of Christmas morning.” I stopped updating my blog a few months ago because the pressure to be perfect became unbearable, but my subscribers would want something for Christmas— at least one cute little picture-perfect family photo.
Aiden nodded and slid his phone from his flannel pajama pants pocket. “I got it, baby.” He set his camera to record and turned it toward the messy living room. “There’s miss Mia, singing like an angel with her new microphone. There’s Max. It looks like he got some new cars and a lot of chocolate.” Brown slobber dribbled down Max’s chin as he lined up his set of matchbox cars. “And here’s Soph and me.” Aiden turned the camera on us. “We are the tired faces of parenting. Merry Christmas.”
Aiden ended the video and gave me an exaggerated thumbs-up. “I’ll send it to you so you can post it.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can’t post that. You’re shirtless, I’m braless, and everything’s a mess!” Aiden had never really understood or supported my blog the way I wanted him to. He seemed all too happy to watch me give it up.
“Life is messy. We’d all be happier if we just embraced the mess. Here, have a peanut butter cup.” Aiden picked up a half unwrapped peanut butter cup from beneath the tree. He finished unwrapping it and shoved it in my mouth. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
I almost laughed. I would have laughed, honestly, if I wasn’t so exhausted and if I wasn’t stressed about our trip.
Aiden and I were leaving for a ski trip bright and early tomorrow morning. It was our Christmas gift to each other… at the strong recommendation of Meredith, our marriage counselor.
I still couldn’t even believe that we had a marriage counselor. It started about two months ago, when out of the blue, Aiden said, “Do you feel like we’re just roommates now? We like each other. We take care of our responsibilities, but then we just sort of stay out of each other’s way.”
&nb
sp; I got offended and said, “I’m working so hard to make everyone in this family feel important! Is it not enough for you?”
The fight that followed resulted in me looking up a marriage counselor, making an appointment, and forcing Aiden to come with me. We’d been to three sessions so far, and Meredith had a pretty simple verdict. She’d said, “This marriage isn’t a lost cause. You two still love each other. You just need to reconnect.”
Cue the ski trip.
But this was crazy. We were leaving our kids with Aiden’s parents the day after Christmas to go skiing. We didn’t even like skiing! And we’d already been working so hard to communicate better. I already expressed that I needed a little more help with the kids. Aiden stepped up. He’d asked me to be a little more flexible and spontaneous, and I’d obliged. We were fine!
Aiden patted my knee and pulled me from my thoughts. “You want me to get the cinnamon rolls in the oven?”
“That would be great. Thanks, babe.” See? He was helping out with more stuff. I chewed on my thumbnail as I watched the kids sifting through the piles of wrapping paper. And I could have had a major meltdown about the picture-perfect Christmas that Max obliterated, but I didn’t. If that wasn’t flexible, then I didn’t know what was.
But maybe that wasn’t the kind of flexibility that Aiden meant. Maybe we did need this trip, but what the hell were we going to find to talk about for five whole days alone?
Aiden
My mom and dad arrived at 6 am the day after Christmas. Sophie was upstairs going over her packing list, and Mia was still in bed, but Max was already bouncing around the living room. The kid had something against sleep.
“Oh! There’s my big boy!” My dad grinned at Max and scooped him up in his arms. Max giggled and then squirmed his way to freedom.
Sophie hurried down the stairs carrying her suitcase. “Morning, Lucy, Ron. Thank you so much for doing this!” She gave my parents quick hugs and then headed for the kitchen. She was back a second later with a sheet of paper. “I wrote down their usual daily schedule and their pediatrician’s phone number.” Sophie handed the paper to my mom. “And the fridge is stocked with all of their favorite foods. The children’s Tylenol is in the cupboard next to the fridge if they need it.” Sophie turned to me next. “Aiden, will you go install the car seats in your parents’ car?”
“Yep, I’m on it.” I grabbed the keys and headed out into our freezing cold garage. Was this trip going to be a disaster? I knew what I wanted it to be, but I had no idea what my wife was thinking. I rarely knew what was in her head anymore, but I did know it sure as hell wasn’t me.
◆◆◆
After a quiet two-hour flight and a forty-five-minute drive, we arrived at the upscale ski lodge that Sophie booked for us. She pulled out all the stops and went for a top floor suite. We could only kind-of afford it.
I glanced over at my wife as we walked through the parking garage. Her brow was furrowed, and her shoulders were practically up to her ears. “You okay, Soph? You seem stressed.”
Sophie gave me a tight, fake smile. “What are you talking about? I’m fine! I mean, I always worry about leaving our kids, but I’m so excited to spend this time with you.”
I wished like hell that she meant that. But Sophie was never honestly excited to spend time with me anymore. Spending time with me was just another thing to check off her to-do list.
Before we walked into the hotel lobby, I watched Sophie smooth her blonde hair and straighten her blue sweater. It irritated the shit out of me, but it shouldn’t have. It was such a small thing. I needed to let the small things go. That was what our marriage counselor said.
But Sophie was obsessed with the appearance of perfection, and it drove me up the goddamn wall. She wasn’t always like this, so worried about how she looked and how many things she’d checked off her list. I could almost pinpoint the exact moment that she changed.
It was when she started her mommy blog. She started it when Max was a baby, and her best friend, Tiff, told her, “Oh my god! You do the cutest things with your kids! You should start a blog!” At first, the blog made Sophie happy. It was just a fun little side project where she’d post cute pictures of Mia’s arts and crafts time.
Then the blog grew arms, legs, and teeth and tried to swallow her whole. Sophie changed from my proud, confident baby into an anxiety-ridden attention seeker, chasing the approval of complete strangers. She became obsessed with followers and likes and perfect pictures. Suddenly, there were lists and schedules all around the house, and I was living with a stranger.
One day, about six months ago, Sophie came to me in tears and said, “I don’t want to do the blog anymore. It’s making me feel so drained.”
Relief washed over me, and I pulled her into my arms. The blog had started making pretty good money through all of the affiliate links, but I didn’t care. I just wanted Soph to be happy. I kissed her and said, “Then don’t do it, baby.” I thought I was going to get my wife back, but her perfection obsession didn’t just melt away overnight.
Hence this stupid trip. A couple of months ago, I tried to bring up the complete lack of sex and passion in our marriage — What? I’m a dude, and I would love to fuck my wife daily. That’s not wrong. That’s healthy. Sophie freaked out and made us see a marriage counselor. Fuck. All I wanted was more sex and for Sophie to relax and laugh a little.
I should have just said that. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that until Meredith mentioned it. All right, maybe counseling wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe I needed to work on my communication.
Meredith also liked to use the phrase, “be present with each other.” Apparently, I didn’t leave work at the office and spent too much time answering emails and editing articles at home. But it wasn’t like Sophie was present either. While the kids were awake, she was at their beck and call. As soon as they went to sleep, she was making lists and scouring Pinterest, even though it made her feel like shit.
“Wow!” Sophie smiled. “This place is so nice!” She looked around the fancy lobby and pointed at the twenty-foot tall Christmas tree next to the fireplace. “The kids would love that big tree!”
I smiled. “Max would probably run over and open all of those fake presents.”
Sophie laughed and shook her head. “And he wouldn’t even care that they were empty.” Then she sighed. “Oh my god, I’m so excited to catch up on some sleep this week!”
That part, I believed. That was genuine excitement in her eyes. Sleep made my wife excited— not a week with me. “Absolutely,” I said. “I’ll go check us in.”
A few minutes later, we were walking through the door of our romantic lodge suite. Vaulted ceilings with wood beams and a crackling fireplace greeted us in the cozy living room. There was a little kitchenette to the left and a private balcony with a spectacular view of the snowy mountain.
Sophie headed straight for the balcony. “Wow! It’s like a magical winter wonderland!” She pulled open the sliding glass door, and a blast of cold air hit us.
I thought about walking up behind my wife and wrapping my arms around her. She used to love that shit. She used to say, “I love it when you hold me like that. It makes me feel all warm and safe.” But for the last few years, I’d reach for her, and she’d give me a hurried hug before rushing off to do something else.
Eventually, I stopped trying to hold her. We just got used to not touching. Now, it seemed unnatural to hold my wife, so I didn’t. Instead, I wandered down the hall to check out the bedroom and bathroom. The same vaulted ceilings greeted me, along with an epic four-poster king bed. We could have some fun with that much space, but Soph wanted to sleep.
She came into the bedroom and awkwardly rested her hand on my arm. “Are you hungry? Should we do an early dinner?”
I glanced over at my wife. I didn’t want to do an early dinner. We were in our mid-thirties, not our late-sixties. I sighed and gave her a tight smile. “Sure, that sounds great.”
We chose the
lodge café because it was only 4:30, and none of the nicer restaurants were open yet. Soph ordered a salad with the dressing on the side and only used half of it. She didn’t order a cocktail, either, just water. Did Sophie think she was fat? Did she think she had to watch what she ate or something?
Again, I blamed the mommy blogger world. For years she was surrounded by posts about “getting her body back” and creating healthy, organic meals for her family. But Soph’s body was perfect, and I fucking missed the girl that would stay up late and help me finish a pizza and a six-pack of beers.
Meredith would say I should tell Sophie those things. I wanted to tell her, but it felt like she didn’t even hear me when I complimented her. We were just closed off or something.
“Do you think Max is driving your parents crazy yet?” Sophie sighed and pushed lettuce around her plate.
I shrugged. “I mean, they raised Trevor and me and lived to tell the tale. I think they can handle Max.”
Sophie gave me a tight smile. “Right. They’ll be fine.”
The rest of our dinner continued with strained conversation about our kids, and when we headed back up to our room, Sophie called my mom to check on them. After that, she changed into her comfy pajamas, gave me a passionless kiss, and went right to sleep by 9 fucking pm.
Looks like it’s me and my right hand in the shower again. Why the hell were we here?
Sophie
Aiden and I spent the first full day of our vacation skiing all the easiest slopes. He was so much better than I was and spent most of his time either waiting for me at the bottom or helping me back up when I fell.
It could have been funny. We could have laughed about it, but I was too damn tense. I was too worried that Aiden was annoyed and that he didn’t even want to be on this trip in the first place. I was the one that forced us into counseling. I was the one that booked this trip. Aiden was just putting up with me like he always did.