Art lets out an exasperated sigh as he flops down onto the couch, eyes screwed shut while he pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s aware that last-minute Christmas preparations would be stressful. But Jesus Christ, absolutely nothing was open, and the few stores that were had nothing in stock. He’s positive he’s driven around the whole city, all for some goddamn wrapping paper.   Art loves you; he truly does. You’re an angel walking on earth, but you were insanely meticulous. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t just shove whatever of Lily’s presents didn’t have enough wrapping paper to cover inside a gift bag. You told him that ripping presents open was “part of the fun,” but it still made him groan. But the excitement on your face always weakened him, how was he supposed to say no?    You loved every part of Christmas. The decorations, winter, hot chocolate, music, gift-buying (though all the funds were from his account), and most of all, playing into Lily’s belief in Santa.    It’s what had you busy in the kitchen while he was driving around stress-driven to find wrapping paper. You were setting up the Elf on the Shelf scene for your daughter tomorrow morning. Essentially making a mess in the kitchen, but you’re too excited about it for him to stop you.   The crackle of ’Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ plays soft enough to not wake the sleeping beauty upstairs but loud enough to fill in the silence of the living room. His head perks up once he sees you step into the room balancing two wine glasses.   “I got them.” he states simply, taking the much-needed glass from your hand. December seems to always be a whirlwind, but if you and Lily stay smiling, he’d take as many laps around the city as needed.