Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
The soft chime of my alarm stirs me in the blue-gray hush of early morning.
Warmth cocoons me on both sides—Anna’s tiny body curled against my front, and behind me, the solid weight of James. His breath warms the back of my neck as I turn to find him already awake, green eyes drowsy and soft, moving from my face to Anna’s.
“Merry Christmas.” His lips brush mine in a gentle morning kiss.
I lean into him, savoring the quiet perfection of this moment while reality waits beyond the door.
We trade whispered plans about sneaking him out, our stifled laughter making us feel like teenagers breaking curfew.
In the bathroom, our kiss deepens. His hands thread through my hair until I reluctantly pull away.
“One more day. Then no more hiding,” I say, peppering kisses along his jaw.
“I’m going to reserve a room at the resort for a few nights. Okay?”
I kiss him for confirmation, long and slow, knowing this will be our last for the day. “I love you.”
“God, I’m never going to get over hearing that. I love you, too.” He groans and wrenches his mouth away. “But I should go; others will be up soon.”
With Anna still sleeping, we tiptoe across the room, and I crack the door open to an empty hallway. With a quick nod, James slips out, barefoot and silent. His fingers brush mine, a final tether, before he goes to shower and change into clean clothes.
The moment I enter the living room, my bliss evaporates. Mason sits rigidly, his face tight, focused on the mug in his hands. Ivy chats leisurely with Jules and Tom. Of all years, they decide to show up. At least Anna will get one Christmas with us all together.
I hide in the kitchen until Anna’s excited voice breaks through.
“Did Santa come?”
This year, Santa’s magic is real, and each present under the tree is a marvel waiting to be discovered.
“Merry Christmas, Bug.” I sweep over to the staircase and gather her into my arms. “We have to wait for Beck and Leo, but you can peek at everything under the tree.”
I click on some cheerful holiday music. Anna giggles and twirls, her excitement spilling over as she takes in the stacks of presents adorned with ribbons and bows.
“Mama, where are mine?” she asks, bouncing from box to box.
“Remember what the letter A looks like?” I ask, pointing to the tag. “A is for Anna. Look for those.”
I leave her to take inventory and escape back into the kitchen to settle my nerves with more coffee.
Gradually, the others filter in. Margaret and Gary settle on each side of Mason, careful buffers as his glower only grows. James joins, fills his mug, and takes a corner seat, trying not to draw attention.
Anna flutters among the adults, excitedly bouncing and sharing her thoughts on all things Christmas. Mason, caught in his own world, gives her a forced smile—but it doesn’t take long for her to sense his detachment and half-hearted responses.
“Unca J, can I sit on your lap?” She pivots, knowing where she can turn.
“Of course, Bug.” He sets down his mug as she melts against him. She delivers her Santa report. Cookies are gone, carrots too. He listens with rapt attention.
Once Leo and Beck join the mix, Christmas chaos erupts. Presents fly open in a flurry of paper, and joy briefly lifts the tension.
But the ease of past years doesn’t return.
Even as James and I keep our distance, the truth hums, impossible to ignore.
We aren’t doing anything inappropriate, but what’s between us is unmistakable.
Every time Anna calls him “Unca J,” every shared smile over her head, every instinctive reach toward each other that we catch mid-motion, it’s all evidence building a case we can’t deny.
I feel Ivy tracking every glance, cataloging every unguarded moment of familiarity. There’s something different in her expression—it’s quieter, more contemplative. It's not animosity or judgment, rather a careful, neutral set to her face as if she’s seeing what was always missing between them.
Mason grips his coffee mug tightly to the point his knuckles have gone white.
When Anna moved to James after his disinterest, he immediately saw it for what it was.
His face darkened in that possessive way I’ve seen before.
His anger simmers, his face hard as granite, even as he sits amongst the joy of the kids opening their gifts.
Anna rushes over, her cheeks still pink with excitement. “You and Unca J and me p’ay in snow again?”
My heart hammers so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it.
“Yeah, baby,” I say, and she runs off upstairs.
I keep my eyes on Anna's retreating form, deliberately not looking at James. I reach for my coffee, focusing on the warmth of the mug in my hands rather than the weight of attention in the room.
Ivy sets down her coffee mug with a small clink and leans back. She considers me and James.
“You guys are in love, right? That’s the thing we’ve all been watching happen.”
The energy in the room shifts instantly. Gone is the forced Christmas warmth. There is no more pretending this is a normal family holiday. I close my eyes for a brief second, steadying myself. When I open them, I’m clear-eyed.
“Yes. We’re in love.”
I don’t rush to justify or offer explanations. I meet each of their eyes without flinching.
“I won’t apologize for finding happiness, and I hope someday you’ll understand. But I’m not going to answer any questions. The details won’t change anything.”
We’ve all been dancing around this truth for years, and now we’re standing in the ruins of all the deception. We all played a part in getting to this moment, even if James and I get cast as the villains.
I scan the room—every twinkling light, every lovingly placed ornament, the warmth radiating from every corner of this home. The family I once thought could fill the emptiness of my childhood. But only I was able to fill that space.
Some relationships will be irrevocably changed. Some will never heal.
And others, the ones that matter, will still be there. Choosing to remain family—the one we want rather than the one bound by contracts and titles.
A silent conversation passes between James and me as we both stand and walk to gather our things. Mason stomps behind us. “Wait.”
James grabs my hand, linking our fingers. But I stand tall, chin high. I’m not going to cower in front of Mason ever again.
“I don’t want all the details, but you owe me enough courtesy to tell me when this started.” Mason gestures toward our joined hands.
James opens his mouth to respond, but Mason cuts him off with a sharp swipe of his hand. “Not from you.” His tone drops to something lethal. “I don’t want to hear a goddamned word from you. Because no matter what’s been going on between you two, you lied to and led on my little sister for years.”
The truth lands hard, but there’s nothing we can say to rewrite our timeline. We made mistakes, and there’s no way to soften the reality of what we’ve done. His eyes drop to his feet as guilt washes over his features.
I squeeze his hand, and when his eyes meet mine, I squeeze again. We’re in this together.
“Mason, don’t act like you’ve had my best interest in mind.
” Ivy walks towards us, chin raised, her fuzzy pink slippers making soft patters against the oak floors.
“You knew this was happening as much as I did. We both ignored it. Instead of yelling at them, maybe you need to take a good, hard look in the mirror.”
All four of us stand there for what could be a second. Or a minute. Until Ivy walks away.
Mason stares after her, her words clearly hitting home. But instead of self-reflection, his face twists with something uglier. The need to lash out and make someone hurt as much as he does.
“Did you fuck him here? Fuck him in the room we used to share?” Mason’s shout echoes off the walls, filling every corner.
The room freezes, and no one can deny seeing the ugliness he usually hides.
James shifts beside me, his body tensing, but he remains silent, understanding this isn’t his battle to fight. This is mine to handle. Not because I need to, but because I want to.
“No, Mason,” I say, keeping my voice even. “We didn’t fuck here.”
His nostrils flare, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. But I’m not done. If he wants honesty, I’ll give it to him.
“You want the truth? Pretty much every time in the four years since I met him, when you kissed me, when you touched me, I imagined it was James.”
My chest heaves as I try to drag air into my lungs. James runs a hand along my back, reminding me he’s right there. Mason’s mouth tightens into a thin, bloodless line, and I see our audience wince like someone wiped out on the ski slopes.
“Does that make you feel better?” I ask with bitter sarcasm. “Would it be easier if this were about sex? If I were just some cheating wife looking for a thrill? Because that would be simple, right? But life isn’t simple.”
“Jesus. You had me thinking I was going crazy. That it was all in my head.” Mason’s voice moderates, realizing the family is near. “At least I know right from wrong. I didn’t cheat.”
With that, my restraint detonates.
“Right, what was it you said? Want me to fuck you here so he can watch? Bend you over the railing? Just the casual threat of sexual assault on the deck.” I pause, watching his face absorb every word.
“Or how about the years you spent cutting me down, trying to keep me small and compliant? I can give you those examples too, if you can’t remember? ”
James takes my hand, uncurling my clenched fingers, and links them with his, pulling me to face him.
His face is rigid, barely containing his fury.
His nostrils flare as his eyes search mine, and I see the guilt.
He's blaming himself for not knowing, not stopping it.
The boy who once stepped in to protect his mom wasn't there to protect me, and it's tearing him apart.
I squeeze his hand, a silent assurance that I’m okay. There's freedom in finally telling the truth, in no longer carrying this burden alone.
A gasp, possibly from Margaret, fills the stifled air. Everyone is staring. They heard every word. Jules turns to her mom, who is wiping her eyes, and she guides them out.
“So go ahead and blame me. Because the truth is, we never should have gotten married. Not when I knew I loved your family more than you.” I continue, my tone shifting to something calmer. “When you’re ready to talk like adults and co-parents, let me know. Anna needs both of us.”
Mason swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and he finally has the decency to look ashamed.
I take the stairs one at a time, James’s hand still in mine, past the Christmas garland and pine-scented air that used to smell like belonging.
Now it only makes me ready to leave. I’m packing for the last time, not just clothes, but the life I’ve outgrown.
The weight of the past, the guilt, the need to hide, all of it falls away. The future is waiting, and for the first time in four years, I’m walking toward it without looking back.