Around noon on Christmas Eve, as Sharon unearthed her punch set and Andy sat surrounded by wrapping supplies he tried to ignore, Nicole stopped by the condo to deliver a couple of cheesecakes for the evening. Connor and Liam, her twin stepsons, were along for the trip. They came through the front door like a gust of wind, singing and giggling over the "Batman smells" variation of Jingle Bells, a longtime favorite of eight-year-old boys everywhere.

Dean had been called into work for a supposed "emergency," a situation that raised Andy's suspicion more than a little. But he kept his mouth shut. As Nicole took a breather, the kids were more than happy to give their step-grandparents a full recap on their morning of holiday errands, which came complete with a last-minute visit to Santa at the Grove.

"He was kinda sleepy," Connor said, leaning onto the coffee table as he finished his story.

Nicole winced. "Yeah, Santa was a little...short today."

"He didn't even ask what I wanted for Christmas," Liam added.

"Oh my," Sharon gasped, making a show of being shocked. "What kind of Santa does that?"

Connor responded with the kind of wide-eyed seriousness that only kids can muster. "A bad one."

By this time, Liam had stretched out on the couch next to Andy, his neon green sneakers dangling off the side and his head lolling against the cushions. The little guy was fading fast. Nicole noticed, too, and tried to rally the troops. She rose and made a pushing motion toward the door, clapping her hands together. "Just a few more stops, boys!"

Nicole had embraced her role as the twins' third parent over the past few years, especially given their mom's near-absence from the scene. Wrangling them solo for a day wasn't an end-0f-the-world situation. Not on a normal day, anyway. But on this big holiday, her original hint of fluster became an all-out onslaught when Liam kicked his legs and whined, "Noooo!" He pouted. "We need to go home and wait for Santa!"

Connor blinked over at his brother. "We can wait for Santa anywhere, dummy."

"Hey," Andy tapped his shoulder, trying to enforce a rule that he'd always struggled with himself: "Be nice."

He dropped his chin, chagrined. "Sorry," but then he stared back at Liam. "We still have dinner and church. Then Santa."

Liam's whine became a drawn-out, nonverbal thing. Nicole dropped her head back. "Kiddos…"

She let the word hang in slight desperation, no doubt deciding which of her remaining stops could be dropped, which could be shortened.

Sharon frowned, looking at their visitors. Her eyes flitted to Andy's, and in that briefest of moments he knew she was about to over-commit. "We could watch them for the afternoon," she told Nicole, before turning to the boys. "How does that sound?"

Liam perked up, even if he didn't move from his blob form on the couch. Connor smiled and said, "Yeah!" He bounced a little in his seat.

Nicole traded an unspoken question with Andy. Is this okay? Before he could fully think through an alternative, Sharon, sitting between them, picked up on the exchange. Her expression lost some of its luster. She lifted a defiant eyebrow, which she directed at Andy. "We'd be happy to help out. Right?"

"Well, sure…"Andy started, considering the most diplomatic way to point out that there was still a lot of day left until midnight. His daughter picked him up.

"I wouldn't want to impose," Nicole said.

"It's no trouble." The edge in Sharon's voice made clear that the conversation was over. She turned to Connor, then Liam, with a bright smile. "In fact, I was just about to make cookies, and I could use some help."

Liam yawned, but Connor's face lit up in kind. His pure joy at the suggestion was a perfect match for Sharon's Christmas enthusiasm; the enthusiasm she'd had to scale back, or at least modify, over the past month.

The season had been marked by a string of resented concessions to her weakened heart. Andy had hauled her boxes (and boxes, and boxes) of decorations up from storage one morning while she slept in. He and Rusty set up the tree and strung it with lights, left it waiting for her to bedazzle. She'd ordered most of her gifts online. They'd agreed to buy a premade Christmas Eve turkey dinner and let Ricky and Rusty arrange to pick it up.

But there were institutions Sharon clutched close. She had insisted on extending the Christmas tradition she shared with Andy, so they'd spent an evening out at a French bistro and the Nutcracker. Midnight mass, of course, was never in question. Neither was the homemade eggnog, angels on display absolutely everywhere , piles of crisply wrapped presents under the tree, poinsettias dotting the condo, or her most-loved CD of carols playing on repeat.

Apparently made-from-scratch cookies were a secret addition to the list. Andy was hard-pressed to figure out when she'd even bought the ingredients.

With her plan set, Sharon shuffled Nicole toward the door, sans step-kids. They settled on a schedule of events that would bring Dean and Nicole back to the condo for dinner at seven, with the boys' church outfits in tow.

"Why don't you have your brother go to the grocery store? It sounds like you've done enough for today." The richness of this observation, coming from Sharon, had Andy shaking his head. His gaze lifted to the ceiling when she added, "Go home and rest for a while."

"You know what? I think I will." Nicole paused in the doorway, turned back inside. "Be good, guys."

"We will," the twins responded, in a vaguely creepy, sing-song unison.

"You too, Dad."

"I can't make any promises, sweetheart."

Sharon muttered something to Nicole as she closed the door. Back in the living room, she said, "Okay, where are my helpers?"

Connor raced around the couch, beelining for the kitchen. "Here!"

Andy nudged Liam, whose blinks were getting longer by the second. "You wanna make cookies with Grandma and Connor?" The kid rolled his head back and forth in response. "You wanna sit here and help me wrap presents?" After a moment, his shoulders rose in an exaggerated shrug. "Okay, buddy. Close enough for me."

Liam was out cold before Andy so much as unrolled the next length of wrapping paper. Before he set to cutting, he reached over and pulled the throw from the back of the couch, tucking it over the kid's shoulders and around his legs. He turned the tv down a few notches.

Before long, the mixer whirred to life in the kitchen. Sharon narrated each addition in her steady, patient way. "Okay, drop those eggs in….now add the vanilla...good job!"

Onto his base layer of wrapping paper, Andy rested an oddly shaped box. It contained a heavy-duty bike lock for Emily (a necessity in New York) and represented the wrapping project he'd dreaded all along. The baking sounds from the kitchen faded into the background as he folded and taped and taped some more, managed to rip the paper, tore it off, and started again. The second attempt was more successful, though still not pretty.

But the lock was concealed and (hopefully) openable. That was all that mattered.

With that behind him, Andy got on a roll packaging normal, blessedly rectangular, boxes, big and small, in a steady rhythm. True, a couple of Rams offensive series succeeded in stealing his attention. But he'd put a decent dent in his wrapping by the time the scent of cookies met him on the couch. He craned his neck to check on the Keebler elves' progress just in time to see Sharon rub along her hairline.

"You're doing a great job moving those snowmen, Connor," she said, backing away from the kitchen. "Go ahead and empty the cookie sheets, and I'll be right back to get the next batch going."

Something about the amount of breath in her voice set Andy's nerves on edge. He feigned interest in the gift bag propped open at his side, watching from the corner of his eye as Sharon made her way to the bedroom. Her hand ran along the wall as she went, steadying her steps.

Following a quick peek in on Connor, Andy followed her, half-closing the door behind them. He found her at the dresser, standing over her red silk Christmas tablecloth with her usually impeccable posture drooped. As he approached her, she didn't react to his presence.

"Hey." He brushed his palm down her spine. "You feeling okay?"

She started, then straightened into a rigid line. "I'm fine."

The weight in her shoulders said the opposite, and it sent a further stab of concern through him. He tried to talk around his worry. "Connor can be kind of a handful—"

"No, he's great," she said, eyes downcast. Her fingers smoothed over the white poinsettias embroidered on the silk, her voice warming. "He's so excited. They both are. It reminds me of the best Christmases, back when the kids were little."

"Well, I'd be happy to herd some of that excitement, if it gets to be too much."

A short, sharp breath escapes her lips. She re-folds the tablecloth into a perfect square. "It won't be. We just have one more batch of cookies to make for the reception, then we'll frost the sugar cookies, once they've cooled."

"Yeah, uh, isn't that a little…" he searched for the right word. "Demanding?"

Her voice sharpened like a blade along whetstone, a warning he would've been smart to acknowledge. "There's nothing demanding about throwing flour, sugar, and butter into the mixer."

"Okay. I'm just saying, if you start to feel—"

She whirled on him. "I can bake some damned cookies without keeling over, Andy!"

The force of her anger hit him like a brick. She kept piling on, her glare burning. Her voice was low, but dangerous. "I am not going to live my life like a doll in a box." She jammed her finger into his shoulder. "How am I supposed to enjoy anything when everyone acts like I'm going to drop at any second?"

Standing with his mouth hanging open, Andy didn't have an answer. His only concern, for weeks now, had been her physical well-being. It had overshadowed everything. Without realizing it, by relying on that singular focus, he'd threatened to rob her of something just as precious as her health.

In fact, maybe he'd already done that. Maybe they'd both failed to find the line, the exact balance of stillness and motion that would keep her both alive and living.

Sharon sniffed and swiped at her eyes, pressed the tablecloth into his chest as she stepped around him. If nothing else, the slump was gone. "Please put this on the table."

His eyes trailed her out to the living room, where she peered over the couch to check on Liam, and around the corner. From the kitchen, her voice traveled thick and forcefully bright. "Oh my goodness, Connor, that is just...that's the best cookie I've ever seen!"

"I used the blue icing, since blue is cold."

"I love it!"

Andy took a few minutes' buffer in the bedroom. He thought about boundaries and necessities and his failure in navigating the two. He pulled a few last gift boxes from the closet and laid out his clothes for mass. Once the coast was clear, he spread the tablecloth, as requested, onto the dining room table.

Otherwise, he avoided the greater kitchen area as frosted sugar cookies piled up and something chocolatey-sweet warmed in the oven. He fought the urge to glance backward, evenly splitting his attention between the Rams and wrapping his remaining gifts. He honored Sharon's anger. Liam rolled around on the couch now and then, tangling the throw around his legs, but didn't wake up.

Only after Andy (finally) slapped the label on his last present and found a spot for it under the tree, did he turn his attention to the impromptu bakery that had sprung up in his home. Compared to his brother, Connor was the Energizer bunny. His chatter, which Sharon returned with equal spirit, hadn't slowed all afternoon.

As if he'd stumbled across a snake on the sidewalk, Andy wandered towards the kitchen with caution.

"They had us stand there forever," Connor held his arms up, his hands nearly joined over his head. "Like this."

Sharon beamed. "I know! I saw!"

"Oh, yeah! Did you like it?"

"I did."

As Andy drew around the island, he recognized the way Sharon braced herself against the counter, even as her smile held steady. A sheen of sweat reflected across her forehead and her face had gone white. A pit formed in his gut. But still, she shined. "That might have been my favorite Nutcracker so far."

Stepping close to her, Andy rubbed Sharon's shoulder. But it was Connor he watched. The kid used a butter knife to spread a huge glob of green icing onto a tree-shaped cookie. "How's it going over there?"

"So good," Connor turned around. His lips were stained blue, giving away the source of his unending energy. "Grandpa, did you see all these cookies?"

Nearly every surface in the kitchen held a wire rack, each holding a layer of cookies. "Yeah, I see them. How many did you eat so far?"

Connor's eyes darted to Sharon before he answered. "Only two."

"Of each," she clarified.

"Yeah, of each." Connor turned back to cookie duty, humming one of those Nutcracker songs as he reloaded his knife with frosting.

While the kid was distracted, Sharon gripped Andy's arm. She turned to whisper in his ear. "Can you take over in here?"

"Of course."

She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes, before she headed to the bedroom.

—

Sharon spent the drive to Saint Joseph's twisted around in her seat, gossiping with Emily. Apparently Jack's brother had flown to LA for the holiday. Much family drama followed. Although Andy had no idea who any of the players were, and he couldn't have cared less about the outcome, he was thankful for the distraction on what might have otherwise been a long ride.

It wasn't like Sharon had spent the evening giving Andy the silent treatment. She'd been, unsurprisingly, focused on the kids, making sure their Christmas was as perfect as possible. Ricky and Rusty had shown up with the food while she napped. With help from Andy, Connor, and a freshly woken Liam, they'd returned the kitchen to its pre-cookie spotless state. Emily arrived from her dad's house and set out a cheese plate as dinner warmed in the oven. Nicole and Dean came shortly afterward and got the boys cleaned up and into their church clothes.

By the time Sharon stepped out of the bedroom, impeccable as ever in a black skirt and evergreen blouse, most everyone had gathered around the kitchen counter, sipping eggnog and sharing vintage Christmas memories. Ricky sat at the coffee table with Connor and Liam, playing a spirited game of Uno.

Rusty spotted her first, and his expression shifted from joy to guilt in the span of about a half second. "Hey, Mom." He shifted toward Dean, making room for her at the counter.

Though her voice was light, Sharon's stare was steely and fixed on Andy when she said, "Oh, I didn't realize everyone was getting here already."

She'd been ready to drop earlier, and now she looked ready for a second round. What was there to say? I'm sorry I let you sleep? He wasn't. I guess I should've woken you ? He wouldn't have. Rather than answering, he held her stare, returning it with a faint grin. Be pissed at me. I don't care .

Emily saved the moment, stepping forward to embrace her. "Don't worry, Mom. You're just in time."

"Yeah," Nicole added, "we couldn't have started without you."

Regardless of the truth in that statement, Sharon mostly kept Andy at arm's length from there, as she fussed over the kids and finished setting up for dinner. The one exception came at a quarter after seven, when he gave into his concern and checked his watch. Dinner was ready, the natives were getting restless, and his son was nowhere to be seen.

He expected his phone to ring at any time, signalling that Nate was stuck at work, or that he had to jet off to God-knows-where, or that he'd simply changed his mind about coming. Andy thought it'd been just a little too good to be true, the way Nate had accepted the Christmas Eve invitation right away. It was more realistic for Andy to be worried about him showing up.

On her way from plating turkey at the stove to arranging the platter at the table, Sharon ran her hand along his shoulders. "He'll be here."

Within a few seconds, as if she'd summoned their final guest through sheer force of will, a knock sounded from the front door. She glanced back to Andy, wearing a mischievous smile. "I'll get it."

He traced her path, rounding the corner just in time to watch her pull the door open. "Oh, there you are!"

"Hi Sharon." Nate's voice carried down the hall. "Sorry I'm late." He stopped to shuck off his jacket at the edge of the living room. "There was this idiot blocking the exit lane in the garage at Ralphs."

After greeting him with a hug, Sharon laughed, patted his cheek. "You are your father's son."

In years past, Nate might have recoiled at this. Now, he just shrugged, trading a look with Andy. "What can I say?"

Andy reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "Good to see you, kid."

Nate returned the gesture. "You too, Dad. Merry Christmas." He held out a paper sack to his sister. "Here, Nic. I got mixed berries and strawberries, and two cans of Reddi-whip."

With that, and probably through a small miracle, each of their kids had contributed, in some way, to the Christmas Eve celebration that Sharon traditionally insisted on pulling together single-handed.

Nicole took the bag with a raised eyebrow. " Two Reddi-whips?"

"Uh, yeah ," Ricky says, from the couch. "Everyone knows that's the best part of any dessert."

Nate aimed a finger gun in his direction. "Exactly."

With everyone gathered, at last, dinner went off without a hitch. And, thanks to Nicole's skill at luring Sharon into deep conversation, so did the clean-up. In fact, it was Dean and Nate who led the charge, with the latter good-naturedly blocking Andy from the kitchen.

"We got it, Dad." Nate nodded toward the living room with a smirk. "Go be social."

Dean's voice came half-muffled from where he bent over, loading the dishwasher. "You host, we clean."

Even without an extra set of hands, the guys finished kitchen duty with plenty of time leftover to exchange presents and have dessert (with extra whipped cream) before loading up into a small convoy of cars and heading for Saint Joseph's. Sharon had wanted to arrive early, given the popularity of midnight mass and the size of their group. They met her goal, filing into a pew, taking nearly its entire length, with a half-hour to spare before the service.

Liam settled onto the pew between Sharon and Andy, wowing at the candles and the decorations and the organ music filling the space.

A few seats down, Dean said, "Hey, Liam. Why don't you come back over here?"

Sharon leaned forward, grinning. "He's fine, don't worry."

Andy figured that was that, a good excuse for the continuation of the distance that stretched between he and his wife all evening. But during the first reading Sharon reached up to twine her fingers with his, where his hand rested on the back of the bench behind the kid. It was a simple contact, something they'd done thousands of times, but it began to stitch together whatever had torn between them earlier in the day. When Liam eventually shuffled over to Sharon's other side, to sit with his new favorite Uncle Ricky, she scooted over to fill the gap he'd left.

By the time the congregation broke into Joy to the World at the end of the service, Sharon leaned heavy against Andy's side, her exhaustion plain to see. But her laugh came in full force when Liam threw his head back, yell-singing with equally charming lacks of self-consciousness and regard for the words.

"Joy to the world! The Lord has gum! Let earth repeat the King!"

Andy chuckled, reaching over to clap the kid on the shoulder. "Close enough, kiddo."

They let the pew clear out around them after mass ended, the kids and grandkids lured toward the school gym by the promise of cookies and hot cocoa. Ricky led the way with an undeniable rallying cry, carrying Liam on his back and practically dragging Rusty with them. "C'mon, crew. We gotta get some of Mrs. Plummer's churros before they're all gone."

"Churros? They have churros?" Nate turned to his sister. "We should've been coming to this church all along."

"No kidding," she replied, lightly pushing him toward the center aisle, towing Connor behind as they approached the river of parishoners headed for the doors. Once she reached the end of the pew, she turned back to Andy. "Dad?"

"We'll be there in a minute."

Sharon hadn't moved to leave, as of yet. Whether it was because of her fading energy or a need for reflection, he wasn't about to rush her. Her eyes fixed on the altar, the spot they'd been married only weeks before. When she finally spoke, her voice was a near-whisper, for only Andy to hear. "Do you know how many years I came to this service alone?"

A chill ran down his spine. He'd started coming with her two years ago, and Rusty tagged along last year. Before that, it was probably hit-or-miss, ever since the kids flew the coop. The image of it came into his mind uninvited. Sharon, kept apart from her family by choice or circumstance, sitting at the end of a pew instead of in the middle; Sharon, who he loved so much, celebrating her favorite holiday in solitude, surrounded by other people's families.

Andy tightened his hold around her waist. She looked at him, eyes shining, then to their family, shuffling along, together, in the crowd. She shook her head, her expression filled with wonder. A tear slid down her cheek. "And now, this. All of this."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. He knew what she meant. All of this, so perfect and delicate, so astounding. Their families, broken and taped back together and far-flung for too long, now molded into something better than ever, with Sharon at the center. They'd collected around her, into something more whole.

"I'm so blessed. I have so much to be thankful for." She brushed her fingers over his cheek as her voice wavered. "I'm fighting to keep it. I am."

"I know you are."

With a long inhale, she took in the altar once more. She let the breath wend out of her lungs, then she stood. "Okay. I'm ready to go."

The main aisle had cleared, allowing Andy to believe that they'd be able to stroll right outside and over to the reception. But the foyer was packed with reunited Christmas-Easter acquaintances and a line of parishoners waiting to chat with Father Stan.

"Oh jeez." Andy tried to keep the comment under his breath. Judging by Sharon's half-suppressed laugh, he failed.

"C'mon." She smiled, playful, pulling him toward a side door. "Let's take the long way."

It might not have been the best idea, given the day's events. But he was powerless to argue. Sharon led him down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, headed for the corner. Once they were on level ground, he held out his arm, which she accepted. They settled into a leisurely stroll.

With her face tilted toward the sky, taking in the few stars breaking through the city lights, she said, "Andy, I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have gotten so upset with you."

"You don't need to apologize."

"Well..." She paused, let her head hang to the side for a few seconds as her eyes made a slow roll upward. "I'm sure you figured out you were right."

He squeezed her fingers. "I'm not happy about that."

"I know." She sighed. "I'm just...angry at this situation. I'm so frustrated. I miss doing the things I used to do."

"I'm only trying to help, as much as I can."

A hint of her earlier annoyance seeps into her voice. "I understand. But I'm trying to keep living my life. In every sense. And, for me, that means doing things for the people I love. Especially this time of year."

"Which is great. I want you to live your life. I want you to be happy." He taps her wrist, trying to soften his next point. "But sometimes you push too hard."

"And sometimes you're overprotective," she shot back, grinning.

With a long nod, he silently conceded her point.

"But you're also persistent," she added, "and loyal." After steering them into an alley, she brought her head to his shoulder. "And I know we're going to figure this out."

Andy thought back on their earlier tension, the old fears that had crept into his mind. It'd been nothing, in the end, just a pothole in the road. It was a learning experience. "I think we can say we overcame the first challenge to our wedded bliss."

"Oh," Sharon snickered. "Bliss! We could use more of that."

They arrived at the side gate of Saint Joseph's High School. Festively dressed people milled around the courtyard, toting styrofoam cups and paper plates stacked with baked goods. An acoustic rendition of Silent Night floated through the gym's open doors. Ricky waved to them from his perch on the side of a fountain. Then, having caught their attention, he pointed to a spot over their heads.

"Uh, what?" Andy looked upward. By the time he spotted the bunch of greenery tied to the wrought iron arch above them, Sharon had already doubled over with laughter.

Ricky shouted to them. "That's what you get for coming through the troublemakers' entrance!"

Andy shook his head and muttered, "Did he do this?"

"I don't know," Sharon answered, wiping at her eyes while straightening up, "but I wouldn't put it past him."

Regardless of the source, she turned to Andy with a good-natured challenge set across her expression, her brow set just so. With no shortage of intent, she pulled him toward her. They got good use out of that mistletoe, their lips sliding together, once, twice...three luxurious times. He'd just started to skim the pads of his fingers down her neck when a wolf whistle cut through the air.

That broke the spell. Even full, properly married members of the Church probably shouldn't celebrate Christ's birthday by making out on the grounds of a Catholic school. But Andy held her close, even after breaking the kiss. "Merry Christmas, Sharon."

She let her eyes fall closed again, remnants of laughter playing across her lips. "Merry Christmas, Andy."