Chapter one hundred fifteen
Reid
On Christmas Eve, I wake to our little family. I’m on my back, and Carrie is laying pretty much on top of me because I can’t move my legs. Actually, I think the cat is on my legs. Carrie is on my chest. Talk about a different holiday season from any of the rest. Well, since my mother was in charge of the holidays.
“Merry Christmas,” Carrie whispers, lifting her head to look at me, her dark hair a tousled, sexy mess. “It’s going to be a good Christmas. I’m going to make it great.”
“My mom used that say that.”
Carrie sits up. “She did?”
“She did. She wanted us to have a great holiday and she did everything in her power to ensure it happened.” I shift my legs and Kesha jumps off the bed. That’s my opening and I roll Carrie to her back and settle on top of her. “She always started the day off with something sweet, cinnamon rolls, usually, and the whole house smelled like them.”
“Oh, I love that idea. Let’s get some today so we can do that tomorrow.”
“I need my something sweet now.” I lean in to kiss her and Kesha literally jumps on the bed and shoves her face between us. We both laugh and pet her before I throw away the covers and drag Carrie’s naked, perfect self out the bed. “What are we doing?” she laughs.
My gaze rakes over her breasts, and I pick her up. “To the shower for safe sex, the kind that doesn’t include furry animals.”
“Nikki has to go out.”
“I got up at four and took her out.”
“You did? Why?”
“She had her nose in my face,” I say, crossing to the bathroom and setting her down by the shower while I turn on the water. Kesha follows us.
I quickly maneuver Carrie into the shower and shut the door. My fingers tangle in her hair and I push her into the corner. “Morning fuck. That’s the way to do Christmas Eve day.” My mouth closes down on hers, and I drag her knee to my hip.
Carrie looks over my shoulder. “They’re watching.”
I glance to my left to find Kesha and Nikki sitting at the glass. “Pretend they aren’t,” I say, grabbing my cock and pressing it to her sex.
“I don’t think I can.”
I press inside her. “Okay, maybe I can,” she moans.
“I knew you could,” I murmur, kissing her again, a deep, hungry kiss that drives away all the demons of the holiday season. This year I’m going to celebrate the way my mother would want me to celebrate.
Carrie and I spend the afternoon shopping for our day with Cat, Reese, and Gabe tomorrow, and end the night with roasted chestnuts we buy from a street vendor, a fire and a whole lot of furry cuddles while we watch a movie. Christmas morning, I wake to Kesha and Nikki on top of me and Carrie missing, but there is also the distinct smell of cinnamon rolls. I look skyward and whisper, “You’re whispering all your secrets in her ear, aren’t you, mom?” because this is the smell I woke to every Christmas morning most of my early life.
I convince Nikki and Kesha to allow me to get up and pull on sweats, a tee, and then brush my teeth. I walk to a drawer where I’ve hidden Carrie’s gift, and pull out the ring box, sticking it in my pocket.
I find Carrie in the kitchen, where I expect to find her and she’s all smiles. “Breakfast is ready!” She points at the plate of iced buns. “And I just brewed a cup of coffee and made it your way to come wake you up.”
I round the island and accept the cup, kissing her before I sip the coffee. “Good stuff, baby. Just like you.”
She smiles that perfect smile of hers, and we sit down at the counter, stuffing our faces, and talking about the wedding. It’s after we finish eating, with both of us sitting on barstools facing each other, that I pull out the box. “It has a special meaning. I’ll explain.”
Her eyes soften to and she picks it up, lifting the box to display the ring that is a star of diamonds with a ruby inside. “It’s stunning,” she says. “Absolutely stunning.”
“My mother used to tell us to wish upon a star, to find one, make a wish, and then to make that wish come true. Not to count on luck. To count on the positive energy of that wish. And the ruby was her birthstone.”
Carrie tears up. “Thank you for such a special gift.” She tries to pick up the ring, but her hand shakes. I take over and slip it on her finger.
“My turn,” she says, opening a drawer and setting a box in front of me.
I pick up the small square box and pull open the lid to find an incredible pocket watch with the world etched on the outside, a familiar watch. “Gabe told me your mother gave you one for your graduation and you were upset when you lost it. He helped me find a duplicate.”
Emotion wells in my chest, and I stand up and pull her into my arms. “I love the hell out of you. You know that, right?”
I look up at him. “Good thing. You’re marrying me in two days.”
Since dinner isn’t until six, we pretty much have a lazy morning and afternoon, and come five o’clock, I’m in black dress pants and black sweater, and Carrie is in a skirt with a red sweater, and thick tights I complain about. “I can’t get to you,” I say, pulling her to me and cupping her backside under her skirt.
“It’s Christmas dinner. You don’t need to get to me. And by the way, you’re staying at Gabe’s tomorrow night, right?”
“What? Why?”
“We can’t see each other the night before the wedding.”
“I don’t approve. No. I’m not staying at Gabe’s.”
“It’s a luck thing.”
“We don’t need luck. I don’t believe in luck.”
“Okay,” she says. “Tradition.” She twists out of my arms and grabs her coat. “You’re staying with Gabe tomorrow night. This is not up for discussion.”
“Your father will be here.”
“And that means what?”
“You’ll need me.”
“I always need you,” she says. “Which is why we’re doing tradition right.”
We argue this point on the ride to Cat and Reese’s and it’s pretty clear that I’m losing. I’m staying with Gabe. We arrive at Cat’s to have Gabe answer the door. “Merry Christmas and dad struck again.” He toasts us with his glass and turns and walks into the apartment.
Carrie and I give each other a look and head inside. We find Reese, Cat, and Gabe, at the island, staring at a box. “It came right before you arrived,” Cat says, looking at me. “From dad.”
“Is it a Christmas gift?” Carrie asks.
“He doesn’t do gifts,” Gabe says, finishing off his drink. “Mom did the gifts.”
“Well, open it,” Carrie nudges.
“That’s what I said,” Reese interjects. “They won’t do it.”
“Nope,” Cat says. “Let’s eat.”
“And drink,” I say. “Definitely drink.”
“Thirty-year scotch this way,” Gabe says, motioning me toward the other room, obviously wanting to talk.
“You have to open it,” Carrie says, grabbing my arm. “All of you. Get it over with so he isn’t looming over the evening. All of you, right now. Open it.”
I know Carrie. We’re opening that box. I walk to the island and grab the damn box. “I’ll do it.”