Trent had gone overboard, as usual. Garnering dad points from the high-end, top of the range tablets he had brought them, that would inevitably end up with a broken screen, or with gunk smeared across it. Piper had gone for practical gifts as she had no choice. She knew all too well, the disappointment of receiving a sweater they didn't want instead of a toy that they would lose interest in by the next day. She never used to care about keeping score, and playing off of each other, fighting for the top spot. It used to be above her, until it wasn't. During the breakup, she had been more petty than she would care to admit. Now, she had got to the point where she didn't care: the kids could hate her, he could hate her, his girlfriends could pity her. She was just trying to survive. Just getting through the day.
Why couldn't she just make the most of this? She had wanted this for so long. Everything was actually perfect. The cabin appeared to have been updated since the last time they had been there, which must have been three years ago; Piper struggled to remember. Trent kept glancing over at her, his cheeks flushed red from the fire. Why did he keep looking at her? Was he looking to make sure she was paying attention, and bearing witness to his efforts?
"Mom look," Stephen screeched, waving around his latest gadget like it was indestructible.
"That's great." She fought hard to appear as enthusiastic as possible, but it was always hard to put on a smile. One of the many reasons she was such a shit mom. There's nothing that made her feel more of a piece of shit, than not being able to even feign a smile when it mattered. Those mornings where she couldn't get out of bed, and she could feel her negativity infecting their youthful innocence. It didn't happen all at once, but when they saw her crying for days in a row, they knew something was up. Trent was right. They were definitely better off with him. She could see that now, after a year of fighting. It was too exhausting, and she wasn't up to the challenge.
Trent got up off the floor, brushed stray bits of tinsel from his jeans, and turned on the Christmas tree lights. He looked like a knitwear model on a catalog cover for Christ’s sake.
"Ooooo." Clara sat in front of the tree. She still believed in Santa, and everything was still magical. Green and red lights illuminated her face in the dim cabin.
"Not bad for a last-minute job, right?" Trent rested his hands on his hips, taking in his handiwork.
"This is great. Thanks."
"I'm going to make us a special Christmas drink. You're going to love it." Trent jerked his head in the direction of the small kitchen at the back of the cabin, hinting at her to follow.
"You know I don't drink." Piper's heart started thumping. Had he forgotten? If he had, would she be strong enough to refuse? Maybe he was testing her.
"Of course you don't. It's non-alcoholic. How do you feel about pomegranate?"
"Oh, yeah. That sounds great." Her heart slowed again. "We need to make the kids hot chocolate anyway."
"Yes!!" Stephen exclaimed, seemingly forgetting that he promised if they let him have a hot chocolate, with extra marshmallows, that he would go to bed without complaint. She doubted he would stick to his word.
Stephen rushed behind them, such loud footsteps for such a small child.
"Me and mommy are going to have a chat. You two go put on your PJ's. I'll let you know when it's ready."
"I want to put the marshmallows in," Clara demanded.
"I promise, you'll be able to put the marshmallows in, and you can squirt the cream. Just give mommy and daddy a minute, okay?"
"Okay." She gave them a toothy smile before running over to the tree. The pajamas were strewn on the floor by the other gifts. The kids were always allowed to open one gift on Christmas eve, and this year was no different.
Piper tensed up. Why was he so keen to get her on her own? He must have something awful to tell her. It felt a lot colder in the kitchen, from the chill of the tiles permeating through her thick socks. She could probably do with some slippers as a gift this year. "So, what's up?" she asked, hoping he would cut to the chase.
Trent avoided eye contact, and rummaged in a brown-paper grocery bag, pulling out two cartons of juice. "Give me a minute." He grabbed two glasses and mixed various ingredients. What the hell was he making? He finished whatever it was with mandarin peel and a sprig of rosemary. He refrained from adding any alcohol to his as well. She was taken aback. It was surprisingly thoughtful. She choked back the warm feeling of fondness that came up way too easily. Maybe he was buttering her up for something.
"You know I'm sorry about everything that happened between us, right?" He took a sip from his chipped glass and slid her glass across the counter.
"You were right. About everything. It's better this way."
"I wasn't right. I was angry, and rash. I was unsympathetic. If I could go back, things would be so different. I would have helped you instead of blaming you. I should have supported you. I was a terrible husband."
"I almost killed our children Trent. You were right." There was something about him trying to make her feel better that just made her feel more guilty.
"It was an accident. Nothing more. You learned from it. Everyone was fine."
Why was he bringing this up again? They'd hashed it out so many times. She apologized a million times. It
