Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Connor
The sharp elbow to my ribs was definitely intentional, and I cracked one eye open to find Sierra's face inches from mine, practically vibrating with excitement despite the fact that it was—I squinted at the clock—barely past six in the morning.
"Connor," she whispered urgently, her dark eyes sparkling like she'd discovered treasure, which in Jax’s home, was probable.
"Get up! The kids are already awake. I heard their doors slam open! We're going to miss everything!"
I groaned and buried my face deeper into the pillow, but the sound of small feet thundering down the hallway, followed by excited whispers, was impossible to ignore.
"Magic doesn't require my conscious participation, sweet girl. It can happen perfectly well with me sleeping.”
"No, it can't," she insisted, poking me again. "You're part of the magic now. You'll regret it if you miss Leo's face when he sees what Santa brought him."
She was too fucking cute to say no to.
"Fine," I muttered, throwing back the covers with resignation.
Sierra's laugh was like Christmas bells as she bounced out of bed, already reaching for her robe. “Good. Now come on, Grinchy. Time to see some Christmas magic."
Hand in hand, we padded quietly down the hallway toward the grand staircase. The house was already alive with warmth, and the tree lights cast everything in warm colors.
The lingering sweetness of last night's cookies mixed with something new—chestnuts roasting in the oven. It smelled like the Christmas mornings I'd had in the Easton household, wrapped up in one sensory experience.
Leo and Avery were in the living room, faces flushed with excitement and wonder. Leo wore his Christmas pajamas, while Avery had managed to pull her tutu over hers and was apparently wearing every piece of sparkly jewelry she owned.
"SANTA CAME!" Avery shrieked the moment she spotted us, pointing dramatically at the tree where presents that definitely hadn't been there last night now sat perfectly arranged. "HE ATE OUR COOKIES AND LEFT A NOTE!"
"The cookies are almost gone," Leo added seriously, holding up the plate that now contained only crumbs and one sad, half-eaten cookie. "And look—he drank the milk too!"
Sure enough, the glass they had carefully filled last night was now mostly empty except for the telltale white residue around the rim. Wade had been thorough in his Santa performance.
"What does the note say?" Sierra asked, settling onto the couch and immediately being claimed by Toffee, who settled into her lap.
"It says we were very good this year," Avery announced proudly, "and that he's proud of how kind Leo is and how nice I am!”
I caught Adrian lurking in the kitchen doorway, looking overly pleased with himself as he sipped what appeared to be his first of many coffees already.
"Impressive attention to detail," I said quietly as I passed him on my way to assess the breakfast situation.
“He’s a professional," he replied with a grin. "Wait until you see the kids' faces when they open their big presents."
Speaking of which, Leo and Avery were currently seriously debating present-opening protocol.
"We have to wait for everyone," Leo was saying with wisdom that made you forget how small he was. "That's the rule."
"But what if Santa's presents are different from family presents?" Avery asked, bouncing slightly on her toes. "What if we can open Santa presents now and family presents later?"
"I think," Sierra smiled, still petting Toffee, "that Santa presents are special morning presents. Family presents can wait until after breakfast."
The cheer that erupted from both children was deafening, and suddenly the living room became a whirlwind of wrapping paper and excited squeals.
I gravitated toward the kitchen, where Isla was indeed pulling a tray of roasted chestnuts from the oven, the smell rich and nutty.
She'd clearly been up for a while—there were cinnamon rolls cooling on the counter, a fruit salad, and the beginnings of a Christmas morning feast.
"Need help?" I gruffed, reaching for the oversized apron hanging on the hook by the stove.
“Definitely,” she replied with a smile. "I was thinking Christmas morning breakfast, maybe some of that French toast thing you make, and lots of bacon, knowing this family.”
"Consider it done.” I was already pulling ingredients from the refrigerator. "Though Adrian's already suggesting cookies for breakfast."
"Cookies are a very valid breakfast choice on Christmas morning," came Adrian's voice from behind me. "Full of energy, easy to eat while opening presents, and they make everything taste better. It's science."
"That's not science," I replied without turning around. "That's the sugar talking."
"Semantics," he said cheerfully, then raised his voice. "Hey Leo! Avery! What's the official breakfast ruling on Christmas breakfast?”
"COOKIES!" they shouted in unison from the living room, followed by more giggles.
“The bosses have spoken," Adrian announced with satisfaction.
I was in the middle of whisking eggs when the kids opened their presents.
"OH MY GOD!" Avery's shriek was so loud I nearly winced. "IT'S AN ALICORN! A REAL ALICORN!”
I turned to see her hugging what was indeed a life-sized pink ‘alicorn’ with silver wings, a horn, and a flowing mane. Tears of joy streamed down her face as she pressed her cheek to its fur.
"It's the most pretty thing ever,” she whispered, her voice high with emotion. "I'm never letting it go. Never ever."
Leo's reaction to his own gift was quieter but no less profound. His dinosaur was huge—a perfectly crafted replica of his bearded dragon Dino, but scaled up to rideable size with the same gentle eyes and detailed scales.
He stood next to it in silence for a long moment, one small hand resting on its snout.
"It looks just like Dino," he finally whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Exactly like him. How did Santa know?"
Because Santa was a billionaire with unlimited resources and a soft spot for kids who've been through hell.
Jax gave Leo a smile from the couch, wiping what were likely happy tears from Estelle’s cheeks. "Santa knows everything, champ. That's his job."
Sierra appeared beside me, Toffee still cradled in her arms like the world's most spoiled baby.
The cat was purring so loudly he sounded like a motorcycle, clearly in heaven from all the attention and the general chaos that meant people were too distracted to stop him from his various food-related crimes.
"Look at them.” She watched Leo carefully examine every detail of his dinosaur, while Avery had decided her ‘alicorn’ needed a formal introduction to each of her dolls.
"They're happy," I observed, the understatement of the century.
"They're more than happy," she replied. "They're having the childhood they deserved all along."
That hit me in the chest because she was right. All of us, really. We were all having the childhoods we'd deserved and never gotten.
"Connor!" Leo called out, pulling me from my thoughts. "Come see! His scales are exactly the right color!"
I dutifully walked over to admire the craftsmanship of the dinosaur, which was indeed impressive. Jax had clearly put serious thought and very serious money into making sure these gifts were perfect.
"Very realistic," I agreed. "Think he needs a name?"
"Dino Two," Leo said immediately. "So regular Dino doesn't get mad.”
I snorted.
The morning progressed in a blur of cooking, Christmas music playing softly, and the constant soundtrack of children's laughter.
I was manning multiple pans—bacon sizzling in one, French toast browning in another, a dish bubbling away in the oven.
Jax appeared at some point to "help," which mostly involved him sneaking pieces of bacon and offering running commentary on everyone else's cooking techniques.
"You know," he started, leaning against the counter with his coffee, "for someone who claims to hate everything, you're surprisingly good with breakfast preparation."
"I hate mornings," I corrected, flipping French toast with skill. "I don't hate food. There's a difference."
"Fair point," he conceded, then stole another piece of bacon. "Though you have to admit, this beats our usual Christmas mornings by a thousand percent."
He was right, of course. Our previous Christmas experiences, while festive, lacked the ones that make us who we are now. This—family breakfast, excited children, the warmth of people who loved each other—was something entirely new.
Sierra had moved the dining table, still holding Toffee, who’d decided that Christmas morning meant he deserved constant attention and some of whatever smelled so good in the kitchen.
She was watching everything with a soft smile that made me itch to hold her, clearly soaking up every moment of the domestic bliss surrounding us.
“He's plotting," I called, nodding toward Toffee as I set a plate of fresh bacon on the counter.
"He's always plotting," she replied fondly, scratching behind the cat's ears. "But today he's plotting with Christmas spirit, so it's okay."
Estelle emerged from wherever she'd disappeared to, looking refreshed and bright. She immediately began organizing the buffet-style breakfast we were creating, arranging everything meticulously.
"The kids are going to crash so hard later," she observed fondly, watching Leo demonstrate his dinosaur's various features to anyone who would listen, while Avery had begun a tea party with her creature collection.
Wade appeared as I was pulling the egg dish from the oven, looking impeccable despite having been up until after midnight playing Santa. He had a gift for making everything look flawless.
"Successful morning?" he asked, though the answer was obvious from the sounds of joy echoing through the house.
"I think you broke them," I replied dryly. "In the best way."
His smile was quietly satisfied. "Good. That was the goal."