Dad Bod Secret Santa (Dad Bod Christmas)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

MAGGIE

S o… are we getting a gift for Hank?” Wendy’s question snaps me out of my daydream about Hank and finishing what we started in front of the fireplace on Friday night.

We’re in the candle store at the mall, waiting while she picks out a gift for Vivian. If I never smell cinnamon again, it might be too soon.

“Oh, I don’t know, sweetie,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I don’t know,” she replies, heading to the register with a pretty candle. “Socks? A sweater?”

“Hm,” I consider the suggestion as the cashier rings up the gift. “A sweater isn’t a bad idea. It’s practical, and he’s a practical man.” It’s also personal without being too forward.

I’d thought about buying him a bottle of good whiskey as a thank-you for letting us stay with him and Vivian, but a sweater is safer. I hoped he would ask me to stay after I found out our power was back, but it was like our words were frozen. Doubts crept in and made me think the hot and heavy make-out sessions were just that, not filled with deeper longings and meanings for both of us.

Claire would say I’m overthinking things. But I don’t know what to do.

“Then let’s do that,” Wendy says, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the closest department store. “I see the way you look at him. All… mushy .”

My cheeks heat, and I press my lips together, trying to stifle a smile. “Mushy? Wendy, you’re ridiculous.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes as if I’m the one missing the obvious. “No, I’m serious, Mom. You don’t think I can see it, but you’re, like, super obvious.”

I try to keep my expression neutral, though her words make my heart pound. It’s one thing to admit that I have feelings for Hank in quiet moments alone, but it’s another to hear it from my own daughter. “Well, maybe I’m just…you know, enjoying his company. We’ve all been through a lot this year, and it’s nice to be around someone who’s…kind.”

Wendy tilts her head, that thoughtful expression returning, and her gaze softens the way it does when she’s trying to understand something bigger. “You mean, how I like being around Vivian? Like that?”

The comparison makes me smile, and I nod. “Sort of, yes. But grown-up friendships are a little more complicated.”

She sighs, tugging my arm and steering us toward an aisle filled with tools and outdoor gear. There’s an ease to her voice, an assurance that catches me off guard. “You’re overthinking it, Mom. I mean, he makes you smile. And you make him smile. Viv says she’s never seen him as happy as he was when we were staying with them.”

I take a breath, her words sinking in. She’s not wrong. Hank’s kindness and easygoing nature are a far cry from what I’ve known, and I can’t deny that he makes me feel seen, desired, beautiful. But I don’t want to unload these thoughts on Wendy. Instead, I give her a playful nudge. “Oh, are you the relationship expert now?”

She grins, undeterred. “Maybe.” She beams up at me, all spark and mischief. “So, are we getting him something or not?”

I glance at the sweaters on display and reach for a thick wool sweater with a dark green and blue pattern. The wool is heavy and looks perfect for keeping Hank warm when he’s working outdoors. I pick it up and turn to face Wendy. “What do you think?”

Wendy’s eyes light up in approval, her excitement contagious. “Perfect! He’ll like it because it’s from you.”

Or from us , I think, my heart warming at the idea of giving him a gift together. It’s simple and practical, but it feels like more than just a way to thank him for helping us while our power was out.

As we stand in line to pay for the sweater, Wendy asks if she can go off to get another gift.

“We’ll be through this line in a minute,” I say, distracted as I wonder if we have food at home or if we should go out to eat tonight.

“It’s,” Wendy pauses, which gets my attention. “It’s something special.”

It clicks, and I realize it’s probably a gift for me. Thankfully, everyone else is taken care of because I can’t take these mall crowds much longer.

I reach into my purse, pull out a couple of twenties, and hand them to Wendy. “Is this enough?”

She takes one of the twenties and smiles. “Thanks! I’ll meet you in the food court in twenty minutes. It won’t take long!”

“Okay,” I say, watching my daughter practically run out of the store, wondering what she’s getting up to.

After Wendy is finally in bed, I grab a bottle of wine and settle on the couch to catch up on wrapping gifts and looking at the Christmas card I bought for Hank.

I thought it would be strange when we went to stay with Hank and his daughter, but now it feels stranger to be back in our house, just Wendy and me. It’d be a lie to say anything other than how much I miss Hank and Vivian, even if Wendy and Vivian together was like a sugar rush twenty-four-seven. The quiet is nice…but it’s too much.

How quickly what I prefer has changed , I think as I top up my glass of wine.

The house feels colder than usual, almost empty, though I know the chill is mostly in my mind. The lights on the Christmas tree blink softly, casting a warm glow over the room, their reflections shimmering on the windows like tiny stars. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of fresh pine and a hint of peppermint from a candle Wendy insisted on lighting before she went upstairs.

I pull out the rolls of festive wrapping paper from the closet and set myself up at the dining room table. I’ve always loved wrapping gifts, even though the wrapping is gone in milliseconds when you have a young daughter. Every gift has a piece of my heart in it, especially this year and the sweater for Hank.

I wrap Wendy’s presents first. A pair of socks with tiny reindeer prancing around, a cozy sweater in her favorite shade of purple, a sketchbook with thick, blank pages that I know she’ll fill with her drawings. Watching my daughter’s eyes light up on Christmas morning is one of the best feelings in the world.

Wendy’s voice echoes in my mind. Are we getting something for Hank? Her question caught me off guard, though in hindsight, it shouldn’t have.

Wendy picks up on more than I realize. She notices subtle changes in me, even those I try to keep hidden.

As I wrap Hank’s gift, carefully folding the paper around the box, I find myself taking extra care. I smooth out the edges and press down each piece of tape with precision, ensuring every corner is crisp and neat. I want it to be perfect, even though I know that’s not something he would expect or even care about. Hank isn’t the kind of man who looks for polish or perfection; he appreciates things as they are. Maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable around him. I don’t feel like I have to hide or put on a show. I can just be myself.

I sit back, my hands resting on the wrapped gift, and imagine a different life—one where Hank and I are partners. I envision Christmas mornings with him and Wendy and Vivian, all of us huddled around a tree, laughter filling the air as we exchange gifts. Not having a moment of silence and not wanting life any other way. I picture quiet moments after the girls are in bed, the warmth of Hank’s hand in mine, the heat of his body when we make love.

Without planning to, I whisper, “I think I’m falling for you.”

When I go to refill my wine, the bottle is nearly empty. Surely I didn’t drink a whole bottle? I barely feel tipsy, though I know I should go to bed soon. Tomorrow is Christmas Day, and I know Wendy won’t let me sleep past sunrise. It’s not a good time to have a wine hangover.

But I have one thing left to do. I pick up the greeting card I bought for Hank, tracing my fingertip over the spare design. Wendy suggested a card with glitter, but I quickly nixed that idea.

Thank you for everything.

All my love,

Maggie

I slip the card under the ribbon on Hank’s gift, then freeze. Am I being too forward? Before I can second-guess myself, I toss the card in the trash and grab another from the box we send to distant family.

Thank you for everything. We appreciate you.

Maggie and Wendy

There. That’s better.

Right?