Epilogue
Gideon
This is our first Christmas with the Reyes and Flintman families combined together. I still can’t believe Lucia moved in with me for good six months ago.
But I can easily believe that the manuscript she delivered to her publisher is her best to date. The release of her new novel is planned for this spring and already, her agent is fielding calls for film rights. I’m not surprised. My mate is an amazing writer.
The moment I step inside with Lucia and Martha, the house feels alive. The heat from the fireplace, the sound of laughter, the clatter of dishes, the smell of pine and cinnamon.
Lucia looks up at me, her eyes bright with happiness that makes my chest tight with emotion. She rises on her toes and kisses me softly, then rests her forehead against my chest. The simple gesture grounds me in the impossible reality that she's mine again, that we're finally, truly together.
I wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer. Her warmth seeps through my shirt, and I feel that familiar heat radiating from my skin in response to her touch.
"We made it," she murmurs against my chest, her voice soft with relief.
"An army of snowmen couldn’t have kept us away," I tell her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
A burst of giggles from behind the couch makes us both look up. Isla and Arwen peek over the cushions, their eyes wide with fascination at the adults being mushy.
"Ewwww, they're kissing again!" Arwen shrieks, her voice pitched to carry across three counties.
"Gross!" Isla adds, but she's grinning as she says it, clearly delighted by the drama.
Both girls dissolve into giggles and scamper off toward the kitchen, their footsteps thundering across the hardwood floors.
Everyone in the room chuckles at their antics. Candy beams at us from her position by the tree, where she's arranging presents with the precision of a military operation. Mateo grins and shakes his head, while Mara covers her mouth to hide her laughter.
I brush another kiss across Lucia's temple, protective and tender, while she laces her fingers with mine. The simple contact sends warmth spiraling through my chest, and I have to resist the urge to pin her against the nearest wall and kiss her senseless.
Later, I promise myself. When we're alone.
Across the room, Candy and Martha chat like old friends, their voices overlapping with warmth and laughter.
I know they must be talking about Cinnamon and how chubby the orange cat has been getting likely.
Martha is spoiling the feline to death and we’re all cheering for it.
She deserves to have something to love on and spoil.
I watch my mother animated in a way I haven't seen in years, gesturing enthusiastically as she describes some community project or another.
Mara moves between them, passing out steaming mugs of cocoa topped with marshmallows and whipped cream.
The whole scene feels surreal. After so many years of isolation, here we all are, two families blending together like we were always meant to be one.
"Gideon!" Ernesto's voice booms from the living room, making me look up. He's settled in his recliner with a deck of cards in his hands, while Mateo lounges on the sofa nearby. "Get over here. These girls are beating us at Go Fish, and my reputation as a card shark is in serious jeopardy."
Mateo grins and waves me over. "Come on, we need backup. Seven-year-olds are ruthless."
I glance down at Lucia, who smiles and gives my hand a squeeze. "Go," she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Show them how it's done."
"You sure?" I ask, suddenly uncertain. Being welcomed into the family circle feels too good to be true, like something that might disappear if I move too fast.
"Positive," she says, tugging me toward the living room. "Besides, I want to see if you're as competitive at cards as you are at everything else."
I let her lead me to the coffee table where the twins have set up their card game with military precision. They look up at me with identical expressions of determination, clearly viewing me as fresh prey.
"Uncle Gideon's gonna play?" Isla asks with a smirk that says she clearly thinks I’m not up to the task.
The title hits me with a warm, bubbly feeling. Uncle Gideon. even a year later, I’m still touched at how easily those girls accepted me into their circle.
"Oh, you girls are finished" I say, settling onto the floor with my back against the couch. “I happen to be an expert at Go Fish.”
Lucia immediately curls up beside me, leaning against my arm, and the rightness of it steals my breath. This is what I've been missing. Not just her, but this, the warmth of family, the easy comfort of belonging somewhere.
"Do you have any threes?" Arwen asks me solemnly, studying her cards with intense concentration.
"Go fish," I reply with a shake of my head, and she pumps her fist in victory.
The game continues with much trash talk from the twins and good-natured grumbling from the adults. Lucia's laugh fills the spaces between plays, bright and genuine, and every time she looks at me, I feel like I've won the lottery.
As the evening progresses, Ernesto shares stories from his mechanic days, his dry humor making everyone laugh.
Mateo talks about his latest projects at work, while Mara describes the twins' latest adventures in kindergarten.
Even Martha seems lighter, more carefree than I've seen her since my father died.
When Candy announces it's time for the twins' baths, there's a chorus of protests that would make you think she'd suggested they walk barefoot through snow.
"But we're winning!" Isla wails, clutching her cards to her chest.
"The game will be here tomorrow," Mara says diplomatically, scooping up Arwen despite her wiggling protests. "Santa prefers children who don’t smell like blue cheese."
"Is Santa really coming?" Arwen asks, her resistance crumbling at the mention of Christmas magic.
"Only if you're good," Mateo says, helping to herd them toward the stairs. "Which means baths and bed and no more arguments."
As the chaos of bedtime routines takes over, Lucia and I find ourselves alone on the living room floor, surrounded by scattered playing cards and empty cocoa mugs. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls, and Christmas lights twinkle on the tree.
"Thank you," I tell her quietly, my voice rough with emotion.
She looks up at me, puzzled. "For what?"
"For this. For them." I gesture toward the staircase where we can hear the twins' voices echoing down, punctuated by splashing water and Mara's patient instructions. "For letting me be part of it."
Her expression softens, and she shifts to face me fully. "Gideon, you were always supposed to be part of this. We just took the long way around."
She’s right, of course. All these years, I've been standing on the outside looking in, convinced I didn't deserve a place at this table.
"I love you," I tell her, the words coming easy.
"I love you too," she replies, leaning in to kiss me softly.
The kiss is interrupted by thundering footsteps on the stairs as the twins make their grand reappearance in matching Christmas pajamas, their hair damp and faces scrubbed clean.
"Story time!" Isla announces, launching herself onto the couch with enough force to make the cushions bounce.
"Aunt Lucia has to read to us," Arwen adds, climbing up beside her sister. "It's tradition."
"Since when?" Lucia asks, laughing.
"Since right now," Isla says with the unshakeable logic of children.
Lucia looks around the room at the expectant faces. The twins, Mateo and Mara settling onto the opposite couch, Candy and Martha claiming chairs by the fire, even Ernesto looking interested despite his gruff exterior.
"What story would you like?" she asks, settling between the girls.
"Tell us one from your head," Arwen says seriously. "Like the stories you write in your books."
"But make it Christmassy," Isla adds. "With snow and magic and happy endings."
I watch Lucia's face transform as she considers the request. This is what she was born to do, to weave stories that capture hearts and imaginations. Her eyes take on that distant look I remember from when we were kids, when she'd pace around my workshop spinning tales while I worked.
"Once upon a time," she begins, her voice taking on the cadence of a master storyteller, "in a small town very much like this one, there lived a girl who thought she had to choose between love and dreams…"
The twins' eyes grow heavy as Lucia's voice weaves Christmas magic around us all. Isla curls against her side, while Arwen's head nods as she fights sleep. Around the room, everyone listens with the rapt attention reserved for the best storytellers.
When she reaches the end of her impromptu fairy tale, the twins are fast asleep against her shoulders.
"I think that's our cue," Mateo says softly, carefully lifting Isla while Mara gathers Arwen.
As the mother and father bundle up the sleepy girls into their coats, I help Lucia to her feet. She stretches, working out the kinks from sitting still for so long, and I can't help but admire the graceful line of her body.
"That was beautiful," I tell her, meaning every word.
She melts against me, and I press a kiss to the crown of her head as she leans against my chest. Around us, the house settles into the peaceful quiet of Christmas Eve, and I take a moment to absorb it all.
This is forever, I think, holding the woman I love while her family's warmth surrounds us like a blanket. This is home.
"Merry Christmas, Stoneface," she says, her voice teasing.
“Merry Christmas, Lulu.”
And when we kiss, it’s a Christmas miracle all over again.
THE END