37. How The Grinch Stole Christmas
CHAPTER
HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS
ROSIE
“I’m
scared to leave you with them.”
Cara rolls her eyes, sipping her shimmery red cocktail. “Say that one more time, Adam, and I’ll give you something to be scared about.”
“You keep saying that like Rosie’s not already one of us,” Jennie adds.
“She joined the book club. She’s officially infiltrated the group.
There’s no turning back now.” Olivia slaps Carter’s hand under the table and holds up her butter knife.
“Carter, I swear to God, if you try to slip your hand under my dress one more time, I’m going to saw it off.
We’re at a fundraiser for kids, for fuck’s sake. ”
Carter pouts. I’ve learned no one does it quite like him, except maybe his sister. Something about those Beckett dimples, maybe. “Yeah, but there are no kids here, and your legs keep peeking out of that slit.”
Garrett tosses back his water. “Yeah, Carter. Take her to the bathroom instead. Jennie and I have already been.”
“You motherfucker,” Carter seethes, launching himself across Olivia, a battle of slapsies ensuing between the two adult men, or overgrown children, whichever you prefer.
“ Sister
fucker,” Jaxon corrects, and Emmett high-fives him.
Adam stands, folding his napkin and placing it on the table. “Yeah, see, this is exactly what I mean.”
“Rosie can hold her own,” Carter says.
Emmett tosses his arm over my shoulder. “We’re gonna tell Rosie how you got your nickname Woody.”
Adam’s eyes widen. “No.”
“I thought it was because his last name is Lockwood?”
“They caught Adam jerking off on his first road trip in his hotel room,” Jaxon tells me.
Adam shoves a finger in Jaxon’s face. “You weren’t even there, twat-waffle!”
The table goes silent, and then promptly explodes with laughter.
Carter makes a claw with his hand. “Rawr.”
“I love getting him riled up,” Garrett says.
I chuckle, grabbing a fistful of Adam’s crisp white button-up, tugging him down to me. “I’ll be fine. I know exactly who these people are, and I choose to love them, and you, anyway.”
“Was that an insult?” Carter whispers. “It felt like an insult.”
I press my lips to Adam’s as the emcee introduces him. “You look so handsome. I won’t be able to take my eyes off you up there.” He grins, and I pull him closer, my lips at his ear. “Then maybe you can take me
in the bathroom.”
I swear I hear it, the way his heart speeds up, his slow swallow.
Am I normally this bold? Of course not.
Do I have a penchant for sex in semi-public places where someone could potentially catch us ever since Adam fucked me so hard my soul left my body in that changeroom last week?
…
Yes.
Listen, it’s out of my hands tonight. This party goes until eleven so that the boys can board their plane to Tampa forty minutes later. If I want him one more time—and I do—I have no choice.
I peck his lips and smile up at him as he struggles with the buttons of his suit jacket, wide eyes bouncing between me, the hallway that leads to the bathrooms, and the stage where everyone is waiting for him.
He walks away, and Cara’s lips touch my ear. “I knew you had a freaky side.”
I arch a brow, because I know for a fact that Adam received a call for help in his group chat last week that involved some sort of mix-up with handcuffs and lost keys. If that wasn’t enough, Cara slid into our girls’ chat forty minutes later to ask Olivia if she liked what she saw
when she and Carter came to save the day.
Cara just smiles a devious smile, wagging her brows, and I roll my eyes, turning my full attention to Adam as he takes the stage.
He’s always a dream, whether covered head to toe in hockey gear, in a hoodie and a pair of sweats, naked and sleep-rumpled in bed, or in nothing but a thin pair of pajama pants hanging low off his hips and my favorite five o’clock shadow while he makes us French toast and bacon over the stove.
But tonight, with his normally unruly curls tamed, a fresh shave, and a midnight blue suit that looks like it was made just for him, a crimson tie that matches my dress, he’s immaculate.
A picture of confidence and control, someone who knows what his purpose in life is and is proud of every step he’s taken.
I’m proud of him too.
“Good evening, everyone, and thank you for joining us tonight at the first annual Tinsel and Ties Charity Gala. My name is Adam Lockwood, and I—”
“ Fuck yeah, Woody!
”
“ Take it off, baby!
”
“—have the most supportive and inappropriate friends in the world, apparently.” The crowd laughs, and he smiles.
“Most of you know me as the goalie for the Vancouver Vipers, but I’m also the proud founder of The Family Project, a charity that supports local foster agencies here in British Columbia.
All proceeds go directly back into our community, and tonight in particular, we’re raising money to open our first ever sports summer camp.
” His grin is so boyish, so adorable as he rubs the back of his neck, a sweet flush painting his cheekbones at the hoots and cheers.
“I’m really proud, but mostly, I’m proud of this community.
None of this would be possible without the amazing people who come out and support us every time, who donate their time—and their money, thank you so much—just to put a smile on a kid’s face.
And while I know how much it means to these kids, I can’t tell you how much it means to me. Because I was that kid.”
Adam drops his eyes for a moment, and when he looks up, they come to me.
There’s something in them, something sad and yet so damn grateful, and it sparks a hope in me I didn’t know I needed, not right now.
“The truth is, I was so damn lucky to find my forever family. And if I hadn’t found them, I wouldn’t be where I am now, with a whole crew of people I call family.
” He gestures at our table. “My teammates, and their incredible wives. My spectacular girlfriend, and our beautiful son.”
My heart leaps to my throat at that three-letter adjective he’s tossed in there so casually, like he doesn’t even have to think about it. His mouth quirks as he watches me start fidgeting, tugging at my dress, shifting in my seat.
“If I can help even one child find the love I’ve found, I know I’ll have made a difference. Thank you,
folks, for coming out here and making a difference too.”
Adam heads through his standing ovation, his hand on the button of his suit jacket as he approaches me. Music starts, drowning out the applause, and he takes my hand, pulling me out to the dance floor.
“Why’re you crying, gorgeous?” he asks, spinning me out before hauling me into his chest.
“I’m so proud of you.” I sniffle, wiping away the tears. “And also, you said our
. You called Connor our
son. And all I’ve ever wanted is for someone to love him as endlessly as you do.”
“I was thinking, maybe one day in the future…” He clears his throat, and I’m thrown by the sudden shyness, the uncertainty.
“Spit it out, Woody.”
He grins, and right here on the dance floor, in front of everyone, pinches my ass. “It’s Adam to you, and when I’m inside you, God is also acceptable.” Blowing out a low breath, he spins us in a slow circle. “I was thinking, in the future, when we get married—”
“You have to ask me first, you know.”
He narrows his eyes. “If we manage to make it to the bathroom, everyone’s definitely going to hear my name coming out of that mouth, trouble.
” He arches a brow, and when I fold my lips into my mouth, continues.
“Would me adopting Connor be something you might want? Obviously, we would talk to him about it, too, and see if he wants that, but—”
I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him so tight, and he chuckles.
“Is that a yes?”
“He’d be the luckiest boy in the world to be able to officially call you his dada.” My hand slips into his hair, and I press my lips to his. “But you’ve been his dada from the moment he laid his eyes on you, Adam.”
His soft exhale rolls down my neck, and as we move from one song right into the next where he refuses to let go, I can’t get my mind off a little brown-eyed girl who stole my heart on a pair of skates.
“Have you ever thought of fostering any of the kids from the home? Or…adopting?”
His hand glides slowly up my back. “It’s something that’s always been on my mind, to be honest with you.”
“Really? How come you’ve never asked me if it’s something I want?
” Because truthfully, until recently, the thought of ever stepping foot into a foster home again made me sick to my stomach.
I’ve wanted to leave all those years in my past, but now all I can think about is giving someone the childhood I wished I had.
The family I lost, and the one I’ve found now.
Adam brushes his thumb over the dimple in my chin.
“Because none of those things are deal breakers to me, Rosie. There are so many ways for us to give back to this community. It doesn’t have to be by foster or adoption if it isn’t something that fits our family.
I also recognize how different our experiences were within foster care, and you’re still sorting through those emotions.
The last thing I’ll ever do is put pressure on you. ”
His hand goes to my hair, drifting across the jeweled barrette, twirling a wayward lock around his fingers before he tucks it behind my ear.
“How we make a family doesn’t matter to me.
Whether we open our home to kids who were born to someone else, whether we make five babies or Connor is our one and only, and he and Bear convince us to buy a farm filled with animals to play with.
What matters to me, at the end of the day, is that I’m with my family. And my family is you and Connor.”
With my cheek on his chest, I breathe in the comfort, the security, the way he loves me so completely, without conditions. “Thank you.”
“For what?”