Chapter Twenty-Two
EVELYN
It was hard to believe, but our tree had turned out truly beautiful. When we turned on the lights, the girls were so happy and excited... Even Anna no longer seemed like the same grumpy little girl from the day before, the one who had refused to help with the decorations.
We finished everything around lunchtime, and Logan ordered delivery again. After that, he left, just as he said he would, but returned a few hours later, claiming he had already taken care of everything he needed.
We were all in the living room when he got up and left for a few minutes, returning with sheets of paper and a box of colored pencils in his hands.
"Since it's Christmas Eve," he announced, "I think there's still time to write letters to Santa, right?"
Rory tilted her head, confused. Anna, on the other hand, crossed her arms, her face settling back into its usual sullen expression.
“What nonsense!” she complained. “We already know Santa Claus doesn’t exist.”
“Still…” Logan insisted. “It’s a tradition.”
“Then why do only silly children do it?”
"Who said that?" Logan looked genuinely shocked. "Of course not! Everyone should write letters to Santa. Evelyn and I will, too.”
With that, he handed one of the sheets to me. Anna looked at me suspiciously.
“Are you really going to write a letter, Evy?”
"Of course I am!" I declared. "As your father said, it's a tradition."
Aurora smiled, seeming to warm to the idea.
"That's right," Logan confirmed. "Let's all draw what we'd like to get."
He handed a sheet to Aurora, and she took it eagerly. Then he offered one to Anna. She seemed to consider it for a few seconds before snatching the paper with a huff, making it perfectly clear she thought the whole thing was ridiculous.
We all sat on the floor, using the coffee table as a desk.
After almost an hour of focused silence, Aurora was the first to finish.
She folded her sheet, got up, and placed her letter by the tree.
I saw her press her palms together and close her eyes, as if making a silent wish for her dream to come true.
I hoped Logan knew what he was doing. It would be heartbreaking if they didn't get anything the next day.
"Aren't you going to show us?" I asked as soon as she opened her eyes, signing as I spoke.
She shook her head in firm denial. Anna did the same with her drawing, shielding it from view.
Logan, however, made a point of showing his. I almost laughed when I saw the paper, realizing his complete lack of aptitude for illustration.
“What is that?” Anna asked.
He explained, pointing to the little figure in front of a building. “This is me, and this is New York Hospital. And here on my shirt is a director's badge.”
Aurora signaled that she didn't understand, and Anna reinforced: “What is a bad... badg...”
“Badge?” Logan offered. “It's like... a small, laminated card with an employee's name and position.”
I tried to translate that explanation into signs for Aurora. It didn't work. With either of them.
“You’re writing to Santa for anything in the world, and you’re going to ask for a job?” Anna asked in disbelief.
“It’s not just any job,” Logan replied. “It’s an important job.”
“I think that’s a pretty silly request…” Anna argued.
Aurora agreed, signing ‘very silly.’
They then turned to me.
“What did you draw, Evy?” Anna asked.
I showed them my paper, where I had drawn—in a very cartoonish and poorly done way—a dog. I explained why: “I always asked my parents for a puppy when I was a kid… and Santa Claus, too. But I never got one.”
This time, I would adopt one myself. Not on Christmas Eve, obviously, but it was a plan for the New Year—for when I finally had my own apartment.
“Your wish is much nicer,” Anna opined, and her sister nodded in agreement.
Logan still tried to defend his badge, but the girls had already lost interest.
When it was time for the twins to go to bed, Logan insisted on putting them to bed. I lingered at their bedroom door, watching the scene unfold. While talking to them, Logan even ventured a few words in sign language, which gave me a hint that he’d been researching it.
As he was adjusting the covers over them, I slipped away and went to the guest room where we had been sleeping.
I changed into my pajamas and sat on the bed, waiting for Logan.
“So… a dog?” he asked curiously when he arrived.
“Yes. But obviously, I won’t be getting it on Christmas morning.”
“I think that’s unlikely.”
“But maybe your badge will appear under the tree?” I joked.
We both laughed.
“Yeah… who knows?” He started to gather the blankets from the armchair, but I stopped him.
“You know, I was thinking… you were right. This bed is pretty big. There’s no need for you to sleep on the floor.”
“Are you saying that…” He came closer, sitting across from me. “You’re going to let me sleep with you?”
“Well,” I said, feeling a blush creep up my neck. “They say good boys are rewarded when Christmas comes.”
“And have I been a ‘good boy’?”
“You’ve been trying very hard.”
He brought his face close to mine, provocatively, bringing back all those shivers that had consumed me that morning when we kissed for the first time.
His lips stopped just inches from mine in a kind of sweet torture.
“Maybe I don’t exactly want to be a good boy to you, Evelyn.”
What the hell… He shouldn’t tease me like that.
I closed the distance between us, allowing our lips to brush. His hand moved to the back of my neck, his fingers burying themselves in my hair as the kiss deepened. His other hand slid down my body as he leaned over me, until I was lying back and he was on top of me.
Our lips only parted when we were breathless, and I had to gather every shred of my sanity to declare: “The invitation was just to sleep, Logan. In the same bed. We’re not going to have sex.”
“Aren’t we?”
“Not tonight.”
He laughed, a low sound that seemed to revel in the uncertainty in my voice. “Next time, then?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I insisted, flustered. “I just… We’re not going to have sex. That’s it.”
“Okay,” he conceded, his tone deceptively light. “No sex.”
“No sex,” I reinforced, my voice firmer than my resolve.
A mischievous glint lit his eyes. “Are kisses allowed?”
'No,' was what I thought, a single, sensible word screaming in my mind.
But my voice betrayed me, whispering something entirely different. “They are. The kisses are.”
Then he kissed me again. And that definitely didn’t make things any easier.