Chapter 11 #4
He moved toward the coffee table, picking up one of Leo's carefully arranged cookies—a perfect star with white icing, and took a bite.
"These are exceptional,” he said after swallowing, genuine appreciation in his voice. "Leo helped make them?”
"Actually, yeah," I corrected, pride warming my voice. “He and the girls were messing around in the kitchen with recipes.”
"Takes after your lady, then,” Dad observed, settling into one of the oversized leather armchairs with the air of a king claiming his throne. "Now then, what other Santa duties require my attention?"
The transition was seamless. From vulnerable father to Christmas Eve Santa without missing a beat. It was pure Wade Easton, the ability to command any situation while making everyone around him feel like they were exactly where they belonged.
"Well," Connor started, pulling out his phone and reading something, "I've got the final presents in the garage.”
"I've got the Santa pen,” Adrian announced, producing an elegant fountain pen from somewhere in his ridiculous sweater. "Looks appropriately magical."
"And I'm in charge of making sure everything looks perfect for when the kids wake up," I finished. "Which includes placement of presents, proper cookie consumption evidence, and making sure that the thank you note gets positioned where Leo will find it first thing."
Dad's smile turned particularly satisfied, like a general reviewing battle plans that were guaranteed to succeed. “Who’d have thought my eldest son would be such a good father?”
“The best,” I confirmed. “After you.”
We worked in comfortable silence after that. Connor slipped out to retrieve the final gifts, and Adrian carefully arranged Santa’s gifts under the tree, his artistic eye ensuring maximum Christmas morning impact while maintaining the illusion that Santa had done it all.
Dad composed his thank-you note in elegant script that looked like it had been written by someone who definitely had magical origins, and I made sure the milk glass had the appropriate amount drunk from it with realistic cookie crumbs on the table.
The room looked perfect when we were done—magical, warm, and exactly like Christmas morning should be. The tree lights created pools of gold and silver throughout the space, and the presents were arranged in artful abundance beneath the branches.
Dad spoke quietly as we all stood back to admire our handiwork, his voice soft with emotion. “Before you, I used to think Christmas was just another obligation. Something to get through with the appropriate amount of effort and expense, a box to check on the calendar of social expectations."
"What changed?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
He looked around the room, at the evidence of our unconventional family, at the love that had built this moment brick by brick, and his smile was the warmest I'd ever seen.
"You did," he answered simply. "All of you and my Jovie. You made me remember what family actually means. Not just duty, responsibility, or carrying on a name, but love. Belonging. The knowledge that you'd do anything to protect the people who matter most."
Adrian, never one to let a serious moment pass without comment, cleared his throat dramatically. "Are we having a feelings moment? Because I need to prepare myself emotionally. Maybe light some candles. Put on some music. Really set the mood for masculine vulnerability."
"Shut it, you festive disaster," Dad said with such obvious affection that it made my chest tight.
Then he pulled all three of us into an embrace that somehow managed to include everyone without being awkward, his arms strong and warm and utterly secure.
"Merry Christmas, boys," he said quietly, and his voice carried years of love and pride.
"Merry Christmas, Dad," we replied in unison.
We finally began to make our way toward our respective rooms, and I took one last glance at the perfect Christmas scene we'd created.
The house felt different, peaceful, wrapped in contentment that only came on Christmas Eve when everything was exactly as it should be.
Our bedroom door was slightly ajar, and I slipped inside to find the most perfect gift waiting for me. Estelle was curled up in the center of our king-sized bed, fast asleep.
She wore the matching Christmas pajamas I'd gotten us—soft red pants and shirts. Her hair was spread across the white pillows, and in the dim light from the bedside lamp she'd left on for me, she looked ethereal.
I moved quietly around the room, shrugging out of my clothes and pulling on my own set of matching pajamas.
The fabric was soft, expensive in that way that most people couldn't appreciate, but all I cared about was how warm and comfortable it would be when I wrapped myself around the woman in my bed.
As I lifted the covers and slid in beside her, Estelle stirred, rolling toward my warmth. Her body curved against mine perfectly, like she'd been crafted to fit only in my arms.
"Jax?" she murmured sleepily, her voice soft and slightly husky from sleep. "Is everything okay? Did Santa come?"
Her concern was adorable. Even half-asleep, she was worried about making sure Leo and Avery's Christmas would be perfect. But she had me now.
"Everything's perfect, princess,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead as I pulled her closer. “Santa definitely came. Dad handled it like the professional grandfather he is, and the kids are going to lose their minds tomorrow."
She relaxed against me with a contented sigh, her hand finding my chest and splaying across the soft cotton of my shirt. "Good. I was worried Leo might wake up and see us moving presents around.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Still… It’s our first Christmas," she added, and there was wonder in her voice, like she couldn't quite believe it was real.
The words carried everything I knew this holiday meant to us. This wasn't just another Christmas—this was the beginning of our tradition, our story, the first page in a book we'd be writing for the rest of our lives.
"The first of many," I corrected, my voice filled with emotion. “Of a hundred more Christmases, princess. All of them with you, Leo, and whatever other chaos we add to our family along the way."
Her breath caught at the thought, at the dream of a future full of possibilities.
"I love you," she whispered, her fingers tangling in my shirt. "I love you so much it scares me sometimes."
"Don't be scared," I murmured, cupping her face in my hands, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. “I love you so much it should scare you.”
I kissed her, soft and sweet and full of all the promises I couldn't put into words.
She melted against me, her lips parting under mine, and I felt that familiar fire ignite—not just desire, though there was plenty of that, but love, devotion, the knowledge that this woman was my forever.
"Show me," she whispered against my lips, her hands sliding under my shirt to find warm skin. "Show me how much you love me."
So I did. I showed her with gentle hands that traced every curve of her body like I was memorizing the map to paradise. I showed her with soft kisses that started at her lips and wandered down her throat, tasting the sweetness of her skin.
"You are everything to me," I breathed against her collarbone, my hands sliding underneath her shirt. "My whole world, my beautiful princess.”
She arched beneath my touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as my fingers traced patterns of worship across her ribs, her waist, the gentle curve of her hip.
"I need you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion and desire. "All of you. Forever.”
"You have me," I promised, rolling us so she was fully beneath me, her darker hair fanned across the white pillows. "Every part of me, for the rest of my life."
Our clothes disappeared slowly, each piece of fabric that fell away revealing more of the beauty I'd claimed as mine. The pajamas dropped on the floor beside the bed, forgotten in favor of skin against skin, heat against heat.
"You're beautiful," I praised, my hands mapping the landscape of her body with reverent touches. “My perfect princess.”
She pulled me down to her, claiming my mouth in a kiss that was part desperation, part devotion. Our tongues danced together, tasting, exploring, promising things that went beyond words.
When we finally came together, it was with the slow, sweet intensity of lovers who had all the time in the world. No rush, no urgency, just the two of us finding our rhythm in the Christmas Eve darkness, bodies moving together in perfect harmony.
"Mine," I whispered against her lips as she moved beneath me, her soft moans like music in the quiet room.
“Mmm,” she breathed back, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. "Always yours, Jax."
We moved together in the ancient dance, two souls finding their perfect match in each other. The moonlight painted silver patterns across our skin, and the distant sound of Christmas music drifted up from downstairs, creating a soundtrack for our love.
When the wave finally crested and we collapsed into each other's arms, breathless and sated, I felt pure peaceful happiness.
"Merry Christmas, princess,” I whispered into her hair, breathing in the scent of her mixed with the lingering traces of cinnamon and vanilla from our evening.
"Merry Christmas, Jax," she replied sleepily, her voice muffled against my chest. "Thank you for giving us the perfect Christmas."
I couldn’t help but smile as I drifted off to sleep with my arms around the woman I loved more than my own life. Tomorrow would bring Leo and Avery's excited shrieks, mountains of wrapping paper, and all the magic that came with family celebrations.
But tonight, right now, wrapped with Estelle in our warm bed while Christmas Eve festivities filled the air, everything was absolutely perfect.
Our first Christmases of many together.