Chapter 36 Max
THIRTY-SIX
MAX
By the time we make it downstairs, the house already smells like cinnamon and coffee. Faint Christmas music hums from the kitchen, and the tree lights cast a warm glow across the hallway.
Eli’s hand brushes mine as we step into the kitchen, both of us wearing the ridiculous matching red-and-black plaid pajamas he gave me last night. His idea, obviously. I’d tried to argue, but it’s hard to win when he’s smiling like that—bright and stubborn and way too pleased with himself.
Ava turns from the stove, spatula in hand, and lights up. “Well, look at you two,” she says. “I told you those pajamas would look adorable.”
Eli grins, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “See? Someone appreciates my fashion choices.”
Brett raises an eyebrow over his coffee mug. “Appreciate might be a strong word, son, but you definitely make a statement.”
I glance down at the flannel and shake my head. “He ambushed me with them. Didn’t even give me time to protest.”
Eli bumps my hip, smirking. “You look good. Admit it.”
“Like a lumberjack in a holiday ad,” I mutter, grabbing a mug from the counter. “But fine—points for comfort.”
We end up around the kitchen table, cinnamon rolls steaming in the center, mugs of coffee and cocoa scattered between us. Eli’s sister stumbles in wearing her own plaid, but pink set and groans when she sees us.
“Absolutely not. You two look like a Hallmark ad.”
Eli beams. “Mission accomplished.”
Ava hides a laugh behind her mug. “Don’t be jealous, honey. You and your brother can match next year.”
“Hard pass,” Jules mutters, but she’s smiling as she sits down.
Eli beams. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Jules groans. “I’m gonna need extra caffeine to survive this level of couple energy.”
The smile that forms on Ava’s lips reminds me of Eli’s teasing grin. “You love it, Jules.”
“No, Mom,” she says flatly, reaching for a cinnamon roll. “I tolerate it because you baked.”
Brett chuckles. “That’s the spirit. Coffee, Max?”
“Please,” I say, accepting the mug he offers. “Might help me blend in with the family chaos.”
“You’re doing fine,” he says easily, and I believe him. “You’ll get used to their level of Christmas cheer and wonder how you lived without it.” He leans over and kisses Eli’s mom, a smile on both of their faces, like they are sharing a secret.
We settle into easy conversation about some of their past Christmas’s, and it’s easy to feel like I belong here.
At some point, Jules pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of us. “Evidence,” she says, smirking. “For next year’s card.”
Eli groans. “Jules—”
“Too late,” she says, already typing. “It’s going in the family group chat.”
I take a sip of coffee to hide my laugh. “You’re gonna haunt the internet in plaid, Starling.”
He elbows me. “If I’m going down, you’re coming with me.”
I glance over at him—at the messy hair, the soft grin, the way his parents look at us like it’s the most normal thing in the world—and I know I don’t mind one bit.
He catches me staring and nudges me with his knee. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say quietly. “Just... this is good.”
His expression softens. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “It really is.”
Jules groans into her coffee. “You two realize you’re nauseating before nine a.m., right?”
Eli laughs, looping an arm around my shoulders. “That’s what Christmas is for.”
And somehow, I can’t argue with that.
After breakfast, the house settles into that easy hum of Christmas morning—carols from the radio, the smell of cinnamon rolls still hanging in the air, wrapped presents piled like snowdrifts around the tree.
Eli tugs me down onto the couch beside him. His parents and Jules are chatting across the room, but he’s practically buzzing beside me, that restless kind of excitement that means he’s planning something.
“Okay,” he says, leaning forward to grab a small, square box from under the tree. “Your first.”
“Starling,” I warn, already smiling. “You said we weren’t doing gifts.”
“This is small, not really anything,” he insists. “Just—open it.”
I tear back the paper, expecting something ridiculous or sentimental—or both—and find a simple wooden frame inside. Behind the glass is a photo of us. It’s from the Christmas market.
We’re standing close together, heads tilted toward each other, mid-laugh, with the glow of the market behind us. His mom must’ve taken it when we weren’t paying attention. There’s something so unposed about it—just real. Easy. The way it’s been lately.
Eli shifts beside me, suddenly quiet. “Mom took it that night,” he says. “I didn’t even realize she had until the next morning. When she showed me, it just…felt right. Like us. So I had it printed and framed for you. I know you don’t have sentimental things in your room, and if you don’t like it—”
My chest tightens. I run my thumb along the corner of the frame, the wood smooth and warm under my hand. “It’s perfect,” I say, meaning it. “You didn’t even have to wrap it. Just this is enough.”
He smiles, relieved, and I lean over to press a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “Now your turn.”
“My turn? I thought we said no gifts, Calder.” His eyebrows lift into his hairline.
“And we both know you’re Christmas cheer in human form. There was no way I was coming to Christmas at your house and not giving you something.”
I lean forward and pull out the small box I attempted to wrap. I’m not great at it, but the candy-cane paper doesn’t look terrible. As I hand it to him, nerves tighten in my chest. I let out a slow breath and place the box in the palm of his hand.
“Open it.”
He studies the box like it might bite him, then starts peeling back the tape with careful fingers. The paper comes off in slow curls until the small black box underneath shows through.
“Max…” he says quietly, glancing up at me.
“Just open it, Eli.”
He does. The lid flips back, and his breath catches. Inside is a small silver keychain—Max the dog from The Grinch, tail wagging, a tiny gold star hanging from his mouth. The metal catches the light, gleaming soft and bright.
He laughs, this surprised, breathy sound that makes my chest ache. “You did not.”
“I absolutely did.”
He lifts it carefully, the keychain turning between his fingers. “It’s Max. And a star?”
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, suddenly feeling more exposed than I thought I would. “So you always remember.”
He flips it over and reads the engraving on the back: So you always remember.
His eyes soften, meeting mine. “You planned this before we came here?”
“Yeah,” I admit, voice low. “Ordered it right after Thanksgiving break. Figured it was kind of… us. Grinch and Starling.”
His smile wavers slightly. “But you… you weren’t even planning to come home with me then.”
I nibble on my lower lip and swallow, trying to make my heart—currently lodged somewhere in my throat—go back where it belongs. He’s right. I hadn’t even decided to come with him at that point, but Christmas means so much to him, and I wanted to make sure I had something to give him.
Shrugging, I try to find the words I actually mean. I can’t say no big deal—because giving anyone anything for this holiday hasn’t happened in years. So, I settle on a partial truth.
“I think I knew I was, even then.”
Eli’s lips part, like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know where to start. His thumb drags slowly across the edge of the keychain, the little star catching the light.
“You’re gonna make me cry,” he says finally, voice soft and uneven.
I huff out a quiet laugh. “Please don’t. I barely survived all the sugar from your mom. Tears might kill me.”
That earns a small, watery laugh from him—the kind that hits me harder than it should. He shakes his head and leans in until our foreheads touch.
“You knew you’d say yes,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin.
“Maybe,” I admit. “Or maybe I just didn’t want to risk not being here when you asked.”
He lets out a shaky breath and slips his arms around my neck, holding on a little tighter than before. For a second, the room fades—his family, the faint hum of music, the creak of the old floorboards—and it’s just us.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes still bright. “I love it,” he says again, firmer this time. “And I love you for thinking ahead like that.”
“Good,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over his jaw. “’Cause you’re kinda stuck with me now.”
Eli laughs softly and presses a kiss to my chin. “Best Christmas ever.”
“Only because of you,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over his jaw.
Eli smiles, soft and a little shy, but we both know we’re not alone.
His family’s right there—Jules stretched out on the armchair with her coffee, his mom and dad sharing the loveseat by the tree.
The room’s cozy, golden, filled with that easy kind of noise that only happens when people love each other without trying too hard.
Eli leans in anyway, resting his forehead against mine. “You realize my parents are watching this entire thing, right?” he whispers.
I grin. “I’m counting on it. Gotta prove I’m worth keeping around.”
Jules snorts into her mug. “Mission accomplished. Mom already called dibs if you ever dump him.”
Eli groans. “Jules.”
“What?” she says, laughing. “He’s polite, he makes good coffee, and he actually likes your ugly sweaters. I’m just being realistic.”
Ava smiles over her cup. “She’s not wrong. You make a very sweet pair.”
Brett nods, amused. “Better behaved than most Hallmark couples.”
Eli tips his head back with an exaggerated groan, cheeks pink. “You all done narrating our love life, or should I go make popcorn first?”
“Popcorn sounds good,” his dad says, completely serious, which just makes Jules lose it again.
I’m laughing too, trying to hide it, and Eli shoots me a look that’s equal parts fond and exasperated. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” I say, still grinning. “But I also really want popcorn now.”
That earns me another groan, but he’s laughing when he leans back into me. I slide my arm around his waist, and his family—thankfully—turns their attention back to the tree and the soft hum of the Christmas playlist.
He looks up at me, voice low enough that only I can hear. “You fit here too easily.”
“Guess I’m adaptable,” I say.
He smiles, threading our fingers together. “Guess you are.”