Aunt Patrice smiles and pats my arm. “I know! This is going to be so fun. When the two kids that were supposed to play Joseph and Mary got sick with the flu, Harold stepped forward to be Joseph. His little brother goes here — that’s him,” she says, and points to a mini version of Harold dressed like a sheepherder. “We just needed a Mary! So when Mom came up with that crazy idea for you to start dating again, it seemed like the perfect fix for our Mary problem.”

You have got to be kidding me.

“It’ll be fun!” she says in a high-pitched voice.

She herds Harold and me toward the center of the manger, where a woman with a clipboard positions us.

A girl who looks about twelve moves close to me. She’s dressed all in white with wings bigger than she is. She whispers, “Have you ever been out with him before?” and nods toward Harold.

I shake my head. “No.”

Her forehead scrunches up. “Well, watch out. They don’t call him Hundred Hands Harold for nothing.”

Before I can even process what she said, Aunt Patrice drops a real live baby in my arms. “This is why we needed you. The other Mary was in high school, too. This baby’s mom didn’t want anyone younger than that to hold him. See, it all worked out!”

Oh my God.

The baby — who can’t be older than a few months — looks up at me. We stare at each other for a few seconds, and then he opens his mouth and lets out the most earsplitting scream I’ve ever heard.

And that’s saying a lot, considering how many babies I’ve been around.

I try to hand him back to Aunt Patrice, but she moves away.

“We want this to be authentic, so it’s okay if he cries a little bit.”

Authentic? I’m wearing a robe that has blinking lights sewn into it. I bounce the baby around on my shoulder, I pat his back, I do everything I know to quiet him down. I’m sweating so bad at this point that my halo keeps slipping off my head.

After ten minutes, the baby finally quiets down. If I keep jiggling him just like I’m doing, maybe he’ll stay quiet. It doesn’t help that I have to swat at my date about every thirty seconds. Hundred Hands Harold is a very appropriate name.

I get into a rhythm: jiggle baby, elbow Harold, send a death glare to Aunt Patrice. As it gets closer to five, I think I might actually be able to hold out until Olivia gets here.

And then they bring in the animals.

***

When Olivia and Charlie finally come through the line, the goat next to me has eaten about three inches of my robe and shows no signs of stopping.

“You’re late!” I say between clenched teeth.

Charlie holds up his phone, and before I can throw myself behind Harold, he snaps a picture.

“I will kill you, Charlie Messina. Dead. You are a dead man.”

He taps out something on his phone, then holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry but Margot texted me and offered twenty bucks for a picture. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Harold takes this moment to stake his claim. He puts his arm around me and says, “We need to ask you to keep moving down the line.”

I shove my thumb toward him and look at Olivia. “This is what I’ve had to put up with.” I turn to Harold and ask, “Who’s we? Do you have a mouse in your pocket?”

His arm slips down my back and I know his hand is going straight for my butt. Again.

I free one hand from the baby and grab him by the front of his robes, yanking him up until he’s on his tiptoes. “If you try to touch my butt one more time, I will hold you down while I let this goat eat your pants, starting at the crotch.”

Harold’s eyes get big and his hands fall to his sides. “Understood.”

And then we hear a god-awful sound coming from the goat just a second or two before the lights on my robe go out.

“I think…the goat just got electrocuted by the lights on your robe,” Olivia says, stunned.

Charlie laughs so hard it seems like he may pee in his pants. “This is the most awesome thing ever.”

I drop Harold and turn to look at the goat. It couldn’t have been too serious because he’s already back chomping away on the end of my robe.

Before Charlie can see it coming, I hand him the baby.

“Whoa! Whoa! What are you doing?” he shouts as I storm off.

“I’m getting out of these robes before the goat takes a chunk out of my leg. That baby’s mom is the one in the blue shirt over there. Give him to her and then be ready to go.”

People going through the line are whispering and pointing, but I don’t care. I can’t take another minute of Harold. Or the goat.

I duck around the back of the manger, take off the costume, and hand it to some woman who’s trying to keep the chickens from running off.

“What’s this?” she asks, confused.

“Mary’s costume. It’s going to need some repairs before next year’s event.”

When I meet up with Charlie and Olivia close to the parking lot, I hear Harold scream, “You were the best date I ever had, Sophie. Call me if you want to go out again.”

“Well, that’s just adorable,” Charlie says.

Olivia puts her arm around me. “You’re on a streak. First, Seth wants another date, now Harold does, too!”

We’re almost to the car when I hear feet pounding the concrete behind us. It’s Aunt Patrice in hot pursuit.

“How are we going to have a Nativity scene without Mary?” she calls across the parking lot.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper to Olivia and Charlie. We pick up the pace until we’re running. By the time we reach Charlie’s truck, we’ve put some distance between us and Aunt Patrice.

“Get in,” Charlie yells.

Within seconds, we’re in the truck, pulling out of the parking lot.

“So how many times did that kid try to grab your butt?” Olivia asks once we’re back on the main road.

“Too many times to count! His nickname is Hundred Hands Harold. Some little girl warned me about him when we first got here.”

“Hundred Hands Harold!” Charlie howls. He glances at me from the rearview mirror. “I’ve laughed more today than I have in a long time. And you look a whole lot better than you did a few days ago.”

My cheeks actually ache from smiling right now. I remember that’s almost exactly what Wes said to me last night.

“I agree, you do look a lot better,” Olivia says. “We’ve missed you.”

It’s the first time any of us have mentioned out loud how distant we’ve become.

“Me too. Thanks for coming to get me. I’m sure y’all would rather be doing anything other than rescuing me from this date.”

Olivia throws me a confused look. “Please. I’m glad you’re stuck with us for the next week.”

“I’m just glad Ol’ Griff’s out of the picture,” Charlie says. “This week wouldn’t be nearly as fun if you were ditching us to go see him.”

I lower my eyes. That had been exactly my mission before the breakup. Anytime Mom wanted to come to Shreveport for the day or the weekend, I usually opted to stay behind with Dad or at Addie’s so I could be with Griffin.

“It has been a long time since we’ve hung out like this,” I say. And, for the first time since I’ve been back at Nonna’s, things finally feel normal with us. “If Wes was here, it would be just like old times.”

Charlie snorts.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just not a fan of Laurel’s.”

I’m dying to know more, but instead I lean my head against the window and enjoy the Harold-free ride.

***

Nonna and I are cleaning up the huge mess in the kitchen from the post-date beignets when a knock on the back door startles us — mostly because no one ever knocks before coming in this house.

“It’s open!” Nonna calls out.

Wes sticks his head in, his eyes scanning the room. “Don’t tell me I missed them.”

I give him a small smile. “Sorry, Charlie and Olivia left about ten minutes ago.”

He lets out a quick laugh. “Not them! The beignets. Please tell me there are a few left.”

Nonna puts the plate with the few remaining treats on the table. “Help yourself, honey.”

Wes sits at the table and I plop down across from him.

“Your date ended early,” I say.

He shrugs. “So did yours, I hear.”

I drop my head to the table and groan. “You have no idea how horrible it was. Between Hundred Hands and the hungry goat, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it out alive.”

“Charlie sent me a play-by-play.” He pauses. “And a picture.”

My head pops up. “No, he didn’t.”

A small, powdered sugar smile plays across his face. Wes turns his phone around and there I am, sweating and red faced, holding that crying baby. The lights are glowing around me, and my halo hangs off to one side of my head. Harold is cuddled up next to me, smiling as big as he can.

It’s Wes’s new home screen.

I groan again.

He puts his phone down and eats the last beignet in one bite.

“So you know why my date ended early, but why did yours? It’s barely nine o’clock.”

He shrugs again. “We had this dinner thing to go to and now it’s over.”

I wait for more, but he’s busy brushing powdered sugar off his fingers.

“Charlie has tomorrow’s date. Any idea who he’s set me up with?” I ask.

Wes sweeps up loose powdered sugar that found its way off his plate and shakes his head. “I asked but he wouldn’t tell me.”

I prop my elbows on the table and drop my head in my hands.

“He’ll pick one of our friends. You’ll have fun,” he says.

We watch each other a few seconds, until I finally say what’s been on my mind. “I realized tonight I’ve really missed hanging out here…with you and Charlie and Olivia.”