Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“I know,” I said softly, letting go of his hand only to cup his cheek. “But we have to be brave and believe in what we taught them. That they’ll be good people even when we’re not around and make smart choices.”
He nodded quickly, draining his beer. “Gimme another one. I don’t have to work again until the day after Christmas.”
“Which is great for me,” I said, turning for the refrigerator. “Because this way you get to shop for stocking stuffers.”
“What?” he squawked, his voice rising several octaves. “If he’s gonna find Nirvana and she’s a Wiccan, why am I getting stuff for stockings?”
“Because it’s tradition,” I said, which sounded a bit lame even as it came out of my mouth. “And because we still have both of them under our roof, and that makes me ridiculously happy since it won’t always be this way.”
“I’m terrified of that,” he confessed.
“Well,” I said, smiling at him, bringing him the second beer and doing as my son had and shoving a lime into the neck. “When neither of them can come here, we’ll go to them, we’ll travel for the holidays. It’s what parents do.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh yes,” I assured him. “And we can judge all their traditions and get their kids all hopped up on candy and soda and refuse to eat any plant-based anything.”
He chuckled, grinning at me.
“It’ll be awesome.”
“And you’ll be with me,” he said, and I heard the sigh and saw the love in his gaze and heard the contentment in his words. “Always.”
“Always,” I said, and leaned in and kissed him.
When he broke the kiss, I looked up, dazed, to find my daughter carrying the cups back into the kitchen.
“I should have bet you,” I baited her.
“Yes, yes, you’re very smart,” she snapped at me. “So I’m guessing that wassail is an acquired taste.”
“Did you drink it?” I asked her.
She made a face.
“Do you want cocoa?”
“Yes,” she whimpered. “Will you make it? Yours is always perfect.”
“I dunno,” I teased her. “You said Uncle Aaron had a cook who made Turkish delight that was way––”
“We both know I lied just to annoy you.”
I grinned at her.
She huffed out a breath. “Your cocoa is the best. There. Are you happy now?”
“Delirious,” I said, cackling.
Hannah turned to her father. “How do you live with him?”
“If you get half as lucky as me, kid, you’ll be happy your whole life.”
She rolled her eyes and left the room, and Sam got another kiss for that.
Later on, at around a quarter to ten, there was a knock on the door, and Sam and Kola and Jake and Harper—who had come over around seven—stayed where they were, settling Catan at the kitchen table.
“I’ll get it,” I said from where I was, stretched out on the couch, watching Law & Order SVU reruns, skipping all the kid ones, as I went through my Christmas list, making sure I hadn’t forgotten anyone and racking my brain to figure out what to get Dane. Shopping for him was excruciating, and I’d learned my lesson not to talk to Aja. She always had the best ideas, like really clever things he loved, and it was annoying as hell.
Opening the door, I found a man there who smiled wide when he saw me. “Hello,” I greeted him. “May I help you?”
“Oh,” he whispered, looking me up and down, “my partner was right, this is gonna be a lot more fun than I thought it would.”
Confused, I opened my mouth to say something when he walked by me into my house. Rushing after him, I grabbed his arm, and he turned to face me, still smiling as another man came through the door and closed it behind him.
“Where’s the bowl for the keys?” the second man asked me, glancing around the room. “I love all the candles.”
“I think there’s been a mistake,” I assured them, moving back to my door and opening it. “You need to go.”
“No, no,” the first guy assured me. “There’s no mistake, and I know you’re probably nervous, but really,” he said, his voice dropping low, “we’re all going to have a really good time.”
“How many are you expecting?” the second guy asked me.
“Sam,” I called out, because it would be faster that way.
Normally, when my husband walked into a room with his dark scowl, people who didn’t know him, scrambled. These two had a completely different reaction. The first guy gasped, but not out of fear, and the second one said, “Thank you, Jesus,” under his breath. And while appropriate for so close to Christmas, it just made me growl.
“Get the hell out of my house,” Sam ordered, his voice like ice.
“But we’re here for the key party,” the second guy told him.
“Which is not here,” Sam informed them.
Glancing toward the street, I noticed a woman standing near our mailbox. “Sam,” I said quickly, pointing.