Outside, the world held its breath. Fresh snow draped the cedars and pines like white lace, untouched by footprints or snowmobile tracks. I pulled the patchwork quilt tighter around my shoulders, and watched the darkness slowly retreat from the treeline, leaving behind a pearl-gray horizon threaded with violet. 7 a.m., my phone informed me, though I hardly needed to check. My body kept its own schedule these days, waking reflexively at the time Jamie used to pad into my room, his stuffed penguin trailing. But my little early bird was gone, and all I had to occupy myself was my own repetitive thoughts. Jamie, Collin, the show, Jamie, Collin, the show Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, letting the bite of it seep into my skin and morph into a dull ache as I closed my eyes. My fingers drifted to my lips without permission, remembering last night-- the snow falling so slowly, Christmas lights reflecting off the ice and snow, Collin's hand finding mine in the crowd. The softness of his mouth against mine, tentative at first, then sure… how he’d tasted like peppermint hot chocolate. My lips twitched at the memory, a sigh slipping through. I shouldn't have let him kiss me. Shouldn't have kissed him back. Shouldn't have melted into him like some silly teenager. Shouldn't have forgotten myself so completely that for one perfect moment, I'd been happy. Really, truly happy.
The guilt crept in quietly-- not because I'd done anything wrong, exactly, but because this wasn't how I'd pictured spending Christmas. Jamie was fine, safe and warm at Owen's house, like we’d agreed. But this was our first Christmas apart, and instead of feeling appropriately miserable about it, I was here on this snow-covered island, unable to keep my hands to myself. I couldn’t help it, there was just something about the way he’d looked at me. Like he saw me. Like maybe I wasn't just Jamie's mom or someone's ex-wife. Like maybe I was just…Iris.
Lost to the memory of his hands cupping my face, fingers tangling in my hair, I almost missed the first sounds of movement upstairs-- the creak of floorboards, the soft whisper of slippers on stairs. A moment later, Julie swept into the kitchen, red flannel pajamas dotted with reindeer, her silver hair caught up in a messy twist. She smiled when she saw me, warm and knowing, like she was in on some secret.
"You're up early!" she said brightly, moving to the coffee maker with the ease of someone who'd mapped every inch of their kitchen in the dark. She pulled four mugs from the cabinet-- cream-colored pottery I'd watched her unpack from newspaper just yesterday, part of some Christmas morning tradition she'd mentioned.
"Up and at 'em!" she called toward the stairs, measuring coffee into the filter. "Coffee's brewing and Santa came!"Julie hummed "Silver Bells" under her breath, as the coffee maker gurgled to life. I kept my eyes fixed on the window, pretending to be absorbed in watching a cardinal land on the bird feeder, though really I was listening intently to the sounds floating down from upstairs—a door opening, water running briefly in the bathroom, then footsteps padding down the hall. Each sound made my pulse skip faster, knowing he was getting closer. I forced myself to breathe normally, to stop fidgeting with the edge of my quilt. Get it together.
"Mom," Collin groaned from the doorway, his voice rough with sleep and warm as he scrubbed a hand down his face. "It's not even light out." My heart stumbled at the sight of him. How was I supposed to act normal when he was standing there in yesterday's sweater?
"Since when has that ever stopped me?" Julie shot back. "Besides, I heard Iris wake up an hour ago. At least someone in this house appreciates the magic of Christmas morning." My cheeks warmed as Collin's eyes found mine.
Using her now-free hand, she tugged me out of the window seat with surprising strength for someone her size. Collin shot me a look halfway between apologetic and conspiratorial as we obediently followed her to the den, where Christmas sparkled in full force, glinting off shiny ribbons and ornaments in the pre-dawn light.
"My attitude is fine," Collin muttered as he dropped into the armchair. He rearranged his features into a pout that made him look unfairly adorable, all rumpled in his worn out Mackinac Hockey sweatshirt, dark hair sticking out in soft waves. Brown eyes caught mine and he winked. I sputtered into my coffee, coughing and patting my chest, trying to look anywhere but at him.
The crunch of boots on the front porch made Julie's head snap up, her face brightening. A moment later, the distinctive rhythm of three quick knocks followed by two slow ones echoed through the house.
"Right on schedule," she said, already moving toward the door. "Twenty years and he still won't use his key on Christmas morning." The door swung open to reveal Hal, his arms laden with wrapped packages, snow dusting his shoulders and clinging to his dark hair, graying at the temples.
"Merry Christmas, Jules," he grinned, stamping his boots on the welcome mat-- the same way he had, I imagined, for many years.
"You're letting all the cold in," Julie scolded, but she beamed as she reached for some of the presents. She brushed the snow from his coat with practiced familiarity while he stepped inside, that same fond smile on his face, the one he reserved just for her. The packages found their way under the tree, added to the already impressive collection, and Hal settled into what was clearly his usual chair by the fire. Julie handed him a mug of coffee without being asked and perched on the arm of his chair.
"You know," Julie said thoughtfully, leaning into Hal’s touch as his arm slid behind her. "I’m almost positive I still have the video of Collin at age six, running down the hallway at 3:45 AM..."
"Mom."
"Full Superman pajamas..."
"Mom."
"Yelling 'IT'S PRESENT TIME' at the top of his lungs..."
"I will pour this coffee in your stocking," Collin threatened, but he was laughing now, and when his eyes met mine again, they held so much warmth. In mere minutes, the living room had transformed into that particular kind of Christmas chaos that only comes from a family who knows how to do the holiday right. The massive pine tree, which Julie had apparently insisted on cutting down herself two weeks ago, filled the corner with its sweet scent. She'd told me the story last night, her eyes twinkling with mischief: "Hal tried to talk me into a smaller one, but I told him Christmas trees are like personalities - the bigger, the better!” Now that same tree sparkled in the early morning sun, its multicolored lights twinkling against vintage ornaments. Each one had a story-- the glass pickle, Julie's grandmother brought from Germany; the tiny ice skate, which Collin made in second grade; and the delicate angel Hal had given Julie on their first Christmas together. Years of memories, all wrapped up in glass and glitter.
"First things first." She clapped her hands together. "Stockings and presents before breakfast. That's the rule in this house." Julie shot Hal a look when he opened his mouth to protest, and stood admiring the stockings hanging over the fireplace,which flickered with a soft, orange glow. "And don't you start with me about needing bacon first, Harold Walker. Some rules are sacred."
"After last year, I wouldn't dream of it," Hal replied, hands up in mock surrender as he stood and stoked the fire beside her. They moved like magnets. If Julie stood, he stood. If Hal sat, Julie sat. I wondered if they even noticed it anymore-- this dance they did around each other, the way they shifted in perfect synchronization like two stars locked in orbit. I wondered if Collin noticed it too. I settled onto the overstuffed couch and tucked my feet under me, surprised by how comfortable I felt in this house, how easy it all felt. A month ago, I'd been dreading Christmas, and now here I was in my flannel pajamas, oddly feeling…at home .
Almost home. The thought snuck in before I could stop it, bringing with it a sharp pang as I imagined Jamie's face, how his eyes would light up at the massive tree, the way he'd practically vibrate with excitement over the stockings. He'd love Julie's ornaments, would beg to hear the story behind each one. And Hal—Jamie would be fascinated by Hal's model ships, would probably talk the poor man's ear off about sailing and pirates...
Stop it, I scolded myself. This wasn't helping anyone. Jamie was having his own Christmas morning with his father, probably already gorging himself on Owen's chocolate chip pancakes. He was fine. Better than fine.
"Y'know, if you keep making that face," Collin said, poking my knee with his toe, "it'll freeze that way. And then Mom will have to hang a very serious-looking stocking next year." He demonstrated by screwing up his features into an exaggerated frown, complete with furrowed brow. See? The man's an absolute idiot. An adorable idiot who somehow knew exactly how to pull me out of my own head, but still.
“Here's yours, honey," Julie said, and reached up to unhook a stocking from the mantle. I stared at it, thrown by the sight of my name embroidered in white thread across the red felt. She must have made it herself, though I couldn’t imagine when she would’ve found the time.
"Oh, you didn’t ha-" I caught Collin's eye across the room, a bit helpless, and he just shrugged, lips twitching into that smug half-smile of his. Of course he'd known this would happen, known his mother would go all out to make me feel included.
"Of course you get a stocking," she cut me off, her tone brooking no argument as she pressed it into my hands. "I always keep extras ready. You never know who might need a little Christmas magic." She smiled, the same warm smile I'd seen on Collin's face so many times, the one that started in the eyes and worked its way down. "It's why I have a whole closet full of stocking stuffers. Right, Hal?" He looked up from the fire, his eyes soft as they landed on Julie.
"The woman's a Christmas freak," he said fondly. "Been that way since I first showed up on her doorstep. Wouldn't take no for an answer then, either." The stocking in my lap was heavy,stuffed full of small wrapped packages. One by one, I pulled them out: hand-knit wool socks in the softest gray yarn I'd ever felt, chocolate truffles from the island's famous fudge shop, a tiny snow globe of the island in winter, bath bombs that smelled like vanilla and pine, a delicate bookmark made from pressed flowers. Each item had been chosen with such care that my throat felt tight.
The gift exchange that followed felt like watching a choreographed dance. Julie would pass a gift to Hal, then grab one for Collin, who would hand one to his mother, and round and round it went. Their laughter and easy teasing filled the room like music. Every so often, I'd catch Collin watching me instead of the gift being opened, his expression soft in a way that made my stomach flip. Hal got Julie a special edition of her favorite Jane Austen novel, and she actually squealed; a sound so delightfully undignified that it made us all laugh.
"Hal," she said, her voice suspiciously wobbly as she ran her fingers over the leather binding, "you wonderful man."
"Just happened to see it in that bookshop in Petoskey," he mumbled, but his ears had gone pink.
"Just happened to see it," she scoffed, her eyes shining. "Like you just happened to find that signed Red Wings jersey for Collin when he was twelve?"
"Pure luck," Hal insisted, and Collin caught my eye, grinning and shaking his head. I watched them, this little family that had built itself out of love and choice rather than obligation. This was what a home should feel like, I realized. Not perfect or polished, but warm and real and full of love that showed itself in a thousand tiny ways-- in perfectly doctored coffee and handmade stockings, in carefully collected Christmas ornaments and the way Hal never seemed to look away from Julie for too long. This was the kind of home I’d always hoped to give Jamie. My phone alarm buzzed just as Julie was unwrapping her last gift-- a set of garden tools from Collin that made her eyes light up.
"For the greenhouse you've been planning," he explained, and she jumped up to hug him, pressing a loud kiss to his cheek that made him groan in mock protest. It was 7:45. Jamie would be opening presents soon at Owen's house. I dismissed the alarm, staring at the time. He'd be bouncing with excitement by now, probably driving Owen crazy with his impatience. My throat tightened as I imagined his face, the way his green eyes would light up at each gift, how he'd want to play with each toy right away instead of opening the next present. I wanted to call him, but I didn’t want to interrupt his Christmas morning with his father. Didn't want to hear Owen's voice just yet. Didn’t want–
"Well," Julie announced suddenly, pushing herself up from the couch, "those waffles aren't going to make themselves." She reached down and tugged Hal up by his hand. "And you're on bacon duty, mister. Nobody crisps it quite like you do."
"High praise from the Breakfast Queen herself," he replied with a grin that made him look years younger.
"Don't let it go to your head," she tossed over her shoulder, already heading for the kitchen. For a moment, the living room lapsed into silence. The house creaked around us, settling into itself the way old houses do. I traced my finger along the rim of my empty coffee mug, aware of Collin still in his chair, of my heart beating just a little faster than usual, of his eyes cataloging every move I made. Then he pushed himself up, the fabric of his sweatshirt pulling across broad shoulders as he crossed to the mantlepiece, reaching behind one of Julie's nutcracker soldiers.
"I have something for you." A glint of silver wrapping paper peeked out between his fingers, shining in the firelight as he crossed back to the couch. The cushions shifted as he settled beside me, and I caught the familiar scent of his soap-- pine and fresh laundry, something that I'd come to recognize as distinctly him.
"You got me a gift?" Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. "But I didn't get you anything." He chuckled, soft and low, passing the gift back and forth between his hands. Was he nervous?
"Doesn't matter.” He shakes his head. “I didn't get you something to get something in return." His mouth quirked up at the corner, knee bumping mine gently. "Iris, be honest… do you not know how Christmas works?" he teased, and I bumped his knee back, unable to hide my grin.
"I–” a breath, “know how Christmas works." My lips together, caught between gratitude and that strange ache in my chest that came with being thought of. He held out the small, square box, a dark green bow perfectly tied around it.
"I wrapped it myself," he added, a hint of pride in his voice. I pulled the box from his hands, slid my fingers under the ribbon, and pulled it loose. Silver paper was quickly discarded in my lap as my thumbs brushed over a small, blue velvet box and flipped up the lid. Nestled inside it sat a pair of bottle-green teardrop earrings that scattered the light like stars.
"They're beautiful," I whispered, tracing one delicate silver setting.
"They match your eyes." His voice was low, something shy and cautious, two things that I hadn’t known him to be. "That's why I got them," he added, softly. When I looked up at him, the most dazzling smile erupted across his face. It started at the corner of his mouth, tugging upwards slowly until the dimple on his left cheek came into view, and he looked so pleased with himself. He had reason tobe. This was the most thoughtful gift I'd received in years and he nailed it. I blinked hard and looked toward the ceiling, where the morning light was starting to paint patterns on the crown molding. My vision blurred, and for once I was happy for it.
"Thank you," I laughed, forcing myself to look back in his direction despite the emotion tightening my throat. He was watching me, brown eyes intent on my face, dark, messy hair falling across his forehead in a way that made him look younger, more like the boy in the photos on Julie's walls than the man I’d come to know. My fingers tightened around the box. Every part of me screamed ‘touch him’, every part of me screamed not to. His eyes held mine, something vulnerable blooming under the surface. He was always so sure of himself, but something about this moment was different.
"Merry Christmas, Iris."
God help me. The way he said my name made me weak.
"Merry Christmas, Collin."
His smile reached his eyes then, crinkling the corners as he stood, bending to gather the scattered wrapping paper from the floor. Red and green and gold, the remnants of our morning slowly disappearing into the trash bag next to the tree. I ran my thumb over the silver settings again. "And they're silver," I murmured under my breath.
"Of course they are," he said, stuffing paper into the trash bag. "You don't wear gold." He said it casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he hadn't just proven he'd been paying attention all this time. As if I didn’t feel it like a blow, all the air in my lungs gone. I stared at him, my mouth slightly parted in surprise. He straightened, catching my expression. "What?" he asked, eyes widening as he ran a hand through his dark curls. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No–," I shook my head quickly. "No, you just..." I trailed off, watching as he moved closer, sitting on the edge of the couch beside me. "You notice things." The words came out on a breathy laugh. The concept was so strange, so ridiculous to me. His shoulder brushed mine as he leaned back.
"I notice you," he corrected softly, and my heart stuttered in my chest. Through the doorway, I heard his mom and Hal in the kitchen, their laughter drifting in with the scent of bacon and waffles. There was something so achingly familiar and so foreign about this moment– the Christmas tree lights casting soft shadows, the sound of people I care about nearby, the warmth of someone beside me who saw me… really saw me.
"Your mom..." I started, trying to change the subject, to ease the intensity building between us. "She's amazing. Putting all these things in my stocking, making me feel so welcome." I motioned around the room and dropped my hand back to my lap, rubbing it with the other.
"She knows what it's like," Collin said, his voice gentle. "Being alone for the holidays. After my dad left..." He paused, and I watched his throat work as he swallowed. "She always said no one should feel alone on Christmas. That's why she started taking in strays. Hal was actually her first Christmas stray.” He looked off down the hallway, as if he could see them now in the kitchen, laughing, hovering. “Twenty years ago now. His wife had just left him, and Mom invited him over for Christmas dinner. He never really left after that." He chuckled. "They think I don't see the way they look at each other, but..."
"Sometimes the best love stories take time," I whispered, not quite meaning to say it aloud. When I glanced up, Collin was watching me again, that intense look back in his eyes.
"Yeah," he agreed, his voice rough. "Sometimes they do." His hand finds mine, pulling it into his lap as he laces our fingers together. His thumb traces circles over my skin. "And sometimes," he continued, "they're worth every second of the wait." The earrings in their velvet box caught the light again, and something warm unfurled in my chest, my heart playing jump rope in my ribcage. From the kitchen, Julie called out that breakfast was ready, but neither of us moved.
"We should..." I gestured vaguely toward the kitchen with my free hand.
"We should," he agreed, but his grip on my hand tightened slightly. "Just... give me one more minute like this?"
I nodded, letting myself lean into him like I had the night before. Head on his shoulder, hand firmly wrapped around his. I breathed him in and felt my heartbeat slow while his thumb traced circles over the back of my hand. Outside, snow fell in lazy spirals past the window, and somewhere in the kitchen, Julie laughed at something Hal said. And there, in that quiet moment beside the Christmas tree, I thought I might be falling in love with Collin King.
