Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Is there anything you can’t cook?”
Izzy’s question comes between swirled forkfuls of linguine and white clam sauce, her lips glistening in the dining room's dim light.
I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know. I’ve never not made something I set out to. They may not have all been good, though.”
“I’m definitely envious of your skill,” Matthew says before he sips his glass of soda.
“Do you cook?”
As he shrugs indifferently, Izzy grins. “He does when he feels like it.”
“It’s like having a muse.”
“A cooking muse.”
“Exactly.”
They stare at each other, sitting side by side, knowing smiles on their faces that make me smile, too. The energy at the table is so light, even more than on Thanksgiving. It’s obvious that the talk Izzy and Matthew had went well, and I couldn’t be more glad about it.
Asher takes a slice of garlic bread from the basket nearest him and savors a bite before turning to me. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we only have a few more weeks before Christmas.”
His words hit me right in the chest like a sledgehammer.
More than a week has passed since Thanksgiving, and I haven’t even put up a single decoration. With everything that’s been happening, I lost track of time.
I must look completely lost or deflated because Izzy rises up to reach my hand across the table and squeeze it. “Don’t worry about all that now,” she says. “Let’s just enjoy this delicious food, and then after we clean up, we can make a plan. It’s all going to be okay.”
I send her a grateful smile. She always seems to know what to say and do.
I don’t know how I managed before without her and my pack brothers in my life.
“Where do you want this box?” Matthew asks from below me at the entrance to the attic as he takes the lightweight box of ornaments from my grasp.
“Let’s put it on the floor in the dining room for now. We’ll have a surface to sort everything.”
“Roger that.”
It takes us about an hour to get all the Christmas decorations out of the attic, for inside and out.
Once all the boxes, bags, and plastic containers are sorted into different rooms downstairs, we begin sorting through the things inside, starting with the giant ten-foot faux tree that goes in the entryway.
“That thing is huge!” Izzy marvels once Asher and Matthew have pieced it together and plugged it in to turn on the warm white lights. “Wow…”
I smile, wrap my arm around her waist, and kiss her temple. “Would you like to choose this year’s tree skirt?”
She gasps a little, turns wide, starry eyes up at me, and I laugh before leading her to the container where all the skirts are folded into triangles.
“And you can choose the topper, too,” I say. “There are three in the container next to that one.”
Izzy nibbles her lip. “Are you sure it’s okay? This is your stuff.”
There’s no way I want her feeling that way. I take that moment to pull her into my arms and hug her tight. “This all belongs to our pack, now,” I whisper in her ear, then pull back to look at her beautiful face. “And you, Izzy, are the shiny star at the center of our little family.”
Her lip quivers, her eyes swim as she rises to her toes and kisses my lips. I savor the moment, my heart fluttering, warmth filling my body. And when it’s over, she wipes beneath her eyes with a sniffle and says, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, then swallow the lump in my throat.
Decorating with the whole pack is definitely faster and easier than doing it myself, alone, or even with Asher’s help.
About twenty minutes in, Izzy is playing DJ with the living room soundbar, using her phone’s Bluetooth connection to play all kinds of Christmas music, and the ambiance seems to really kick up the spirit that wasn’t there just hours before.
Or maybe it’s just Izzy’s enthusiasm.
By the time we take a break, the entire interior will be almost complete.
We have battery-powered light-up garland wrapped around the banister of the staircase and around all the doorways, lit-up wreaths hanging on all the doors, my mom’s favorite cloth wall decorations hung all around.
Izzy chose the white, fuzzy tree skirt that looks like snow, and a silver star tree topper with bright lights.
As is tradition in the Thomas household, we strung colored lights on the pre-lit tree so we would have an array of colors on it. Not many more ornaments to place on the boughs at this point, and Izzy leans against my body on the couch like I’m a pillow while she looks around at our handiwork.
“This place is really cozy,” she says, taking my hand from her belly and kissing my knuckles.
“This Christmas is going to be great,” I say into the hair at the top of her head as she hums in agreement.
Gratitude warms my heart. Holidays with my pack. My new family.
I know my parents would be so proud.