Chapter 45
Abby
Eight Months
"Did anyone get gifts for anyone else? Or did we all just get gifts for the baby?"
"The baby," everyone says in unison, which said baby finds absolutely hilarious, belly-laughing as she waves handfuls of ripped wrapping paper in the air.
Our little home has never been fuller—Ellie and Griffin, Dad and Nathan, the Thompsons, me, Jack, and Little One are all crammed into the living room, sitting in a circle on the floor with Erin in the center.
I was nervous about having Christmas here at first. Aaron was always the host extraordinaire, and I can barely reheat pre-made appetizers in the microwave, let alone prepare a meal. Thank goodness for Andrea, who offered to cook Christmas dinner before I even had a chance to panic about it.
It's been nothing short of picturesque, something straight out of a damn Hallmark movie. The only thing missing is Aaron, and even that twinge of sadness can't compete with whatever magic is in the air tonight.
Maybe Christmas is just more fun with babies.
Once every gift box has been spectacularly ripped to smithereens, Erin switches off like a light, wide awake and giggling one moment, fast asleep the next.
She barely stirs as I swap out her black and red plaid Christmas dress for candy cane striped pajamas.
"Merry Christmas, Little One," I whisper, kissing her forehead before laying her gently in her crib.
"I'm kind of sad our other child isn't here," Ellie sighs.
"What other child?" Griffin asks, whipping his head around. "Is there something you need to tell me, darlin'?"
"No, baby, not yet," she says, kissing his pouting lips. "No mini-Harts to report. I'm talking about our other other child, David."
"I'm not," Griffin huffs. "He'd be a whiny baby about Erin getting all the presents. Besides, he needs to get terrorized by his sisters the way he terrorizes us. Keeps him in line."
"I'll have you know," I interject. "Funcle David came by this morning with several presents for his tiny best friend. Give him more credit than that."
"Wait, you said yet?" Jack asks, grinning. "Does that mean you're working on one?"
"Every chance we get," Griffin says in a low voice, grinning wickedly until Ellie smacks him over the head.
"I'm sorry about my husband, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson," she says, covering Griffin's mouth with her hand. "He doesn't get out much."
"It's quite alright," Andrea giggles, Alan's head thrown back in laughter in the seat beside her. "It would be lovely for Erin to have a friend so close in age. And so fun for you and Abby to be moms together."
"You better give her a best friend quick," I say. "Before she she fills that opening with a different blonde baby."
"I'm working on it," Ellie mutters into my ear while Griffin apologizes profusely to Aaron's parents, Jack's laughter filling the room. "I can barely walk these days."
"Gross," I say with disgust, shoving her away from me. "I don't need to hear that."
"My New Year's resolution is to make sure you're having trouble walking at some point."
"What are you going to do, take a baseball bat to my kneecaps?"
"You know exactly what I mean, Abigail," she says with a pointed look in Jack's direction.
"So your New Year's resolution is to make sure Jack jumps my bones?" I scoff. "You have weird priorities, my love."
"I think I have perfect priorities," she sniffs. "And you know I want to see him do more than jump your bones."
"I know," I say, laying my head on her shoulder. "I think I do, too."
We sit and talk for a while, sipping champagne until the candles burn low and Alan and Andrea excuse themselves.
"Grandparents are up past their bedtime," Alan groans, hands on his knees pushing himself upright. "Merry Christmas, everyone."
"Merry Christmas," Ellie, Griffin, and Jack cheer.
"Merry Christmas," I say quietly, kissing them both on the cheek as they bundle up to head home. "Thank you for coming over."
"Thank you for having us," Andrea says, squeezing me tightly. "Christmas is for family. It wouldn't have felt right without you."
Griffin and Ellie leave shortly after, Griffin muttering something for only Jack to hear on his way out. Jack punches him in the arm, then fiercely pulls him in to a hug.
We wave goodbye from the doorstep, waiting to go back inside until they've closed their own front door behind them.
We haven't talked about what happened the bar since that night, but something palpable has changed between us. It's not uncomfortable, or awkward, or anything negative. It's more like some kind of build up to something inevitable.
I kind of wish it would just happen already. I'm also scared to death of it.
"I'm gonna hop in the shower," he says. "Do you need anything before I do?"
"Go for it," I say, shooing him away, leaning against the living room doorframe and watching him walk away.
Even after he disappears into the bathroom, I stare at the empty space where he stood, bringing my fingers absentmindedly to my lips.
Suddenly struck by inspiration, I whirl into the living room and begin working furiously, trying to finish the idea before he's done.
I hear the door open just as I'm finishing the final touches, and turn around to greet him, anxiously rocking on my heels with my hands clasped behind my back like a little kid ready to show off their clean room to mom and dad.
"Why do you look like that?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
For a moment, I lose all train of thought at the sight of him, his gray t-shirt straining slightly against his biceps, his wet hair wildly tousled, a stark contrast to his consistently put-together appearance.
I like this version of him—and secretly hope I'm the only one who gets to see him like this.
"Sorry, what?" I say, blinking rapidly and focusing on his face.
"Why do you look like you're up to something?" he says, leaning to the side and peering over my shoulder.
"Well I thought," I say slowly. "Since we did it last year, maybe we could keep the tradition alive, and include Erin when she's old enough."
God, I hope you're still around for that.
He gasps dramatically when it finally clicks.
"Blanket fort," he says, excitedly throwing his hands up. "Hell yes."
Giggling, I shimmy to the top of the couch, pulling the Christmas quilt Granny made for me up over my head. I feel the bed sink beneath Jack's weight beside me, the quilt whipping away from my face to reveal a downright radiant Jack grinning down at me.
This Christmas couldn't be more different than last year. I feel like I could burst from all the joy, it somehow swelling impossibly larger in my chest as I take in the man laying next to me.
"Hey, Jack?" I ask.
"Hey, pretty girl?" he mimics back.
"I—" I start, but then pause, trying to find the right words to express exactly what he means to me. I stare helplessly, my lips parting slightly in the hopes that it'll come to me if I just open my mouth.
His gaze drops to my mouth for a second before coming back to my eyes, the reflection from the lights shimmering against the gray pools looking intently at me.
"I—" I start again, words still failing me.
"Hey," he hums, scooting closer and intertwining our legs beneath the quilt. "We don't need to talk about this tonight. We can just enjoy the beautiful day we had. A perfect first Christmas with Little One."
"Okay," I whisper, stroking his cheek. "But we will talk about it?"
"Of course we will, pretty girl," he says, covering my hand with his. "Whenever you're ready. I'm not going anywhere."
"Will you be ready?" I ask nervously. "Are we talking about the same thing here?"
"I have no doubt that we are," he asks leaning forward until his forehead rests against mine. "And I've been ready, Abby. For longer than I should admit. I'll never stop being ready for this."
"Okay," I whisper, wiggling down until my head is tucked beneath his chin.
"Okay," he repeats, holding me tight against him until we both fall asleep.