Chapter 36 First Christmas
First Christmas
~REVERIE~
Itear open the official-looking envelope that just arrived in today's mail delivery, scanning the legal document inside with increasingly quick eye movements.
My heart does a weird uncomfortable flip thing in my chest.
"Our court hearing is tomorrow!" I announce loudly to the living room, my voice probably louder than necessary, looking up from the intimidating legal paper with wide shocked eyes.
All three of my Alphas are literally in the middle of putting the last ornaments on our Christmas tree—a gorgeous eight-foot Fraser fir that we picked out together last weekend from the local tree farm.
It smells amazing, like fresh pine and winter magic and forest and Christmas, filling the entire living room with its presence and scent.
They've been at it for the past hour and a half, carefully hanging ornaments with meticulous attention and stringing lights in perfect spirals and debating the proper aesthetic placement of tinsel.
There's been a lot of discussion about color coordination and spacing and whether the lights should be white or multi-colored.
Grayson advocated strongly for classic white lights.
Nash wanted the old-fashioned colored bulbs.
Theo suggested alternating. They compromised on warm white lights with a few colored accent lights mixed in.
The ranch house living room is wonderfully warm and cozy right now.
Fire crackling merrily in the massive stone fireplace that takes up most of one wall.
Christmas music playing softly from the speakers mounted in the corners—currently Bing Crosby crooning 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' which feels both appropriate and slightly ironic given our current legal circumstances.
The whole space smells incredible. Cinnamon from the candles I have burning on the mantle.
Pine from the tree obviously. Vanilla from the sugar cookies I baked this morning that are cooling on racks in the kitchen.
And underneath it all, pack scent—that perfect harmonious blend of maple-honey and gunpowder-pine and motor-oil-leather and my own vanilla-caramel all mixing together into something that smells uniquely like home and safety and belonging and family.
Decorations cover every available surface.
Garland wrapped around the staircase banister.
Stockings hanging from the mantle—four of them now, each with our names embroidered in red thread.
A nativity scene on the side table. Snow globes arranged on the bookshelf.
Fairy lights strung across the windows. It looks like Christmas exploded in here in the best possible way.
This is my first real Christmas in years.
The first one where I actually want to celebrate.
Where I have people to celebrate with. Where I feel safe and happy and excited instead of anxious and miserable.
Kael hated Christmas. Said it was commercialized nonsense.
Refused to let me decorate. Mocked me when I wanted to bake cookies or watch holiday movies. Made the entire season miserable.
But this year is different.
This year I get to have the Christmas I've always dreamed about.
With a real tree and decorations and cookies and people who actually want to celebrate with me.
Who get excited about traditions. Who let me play Christmas music constantly.
Who help me bake dozens of different cookie varieties.
Who watch cheesy holiday movies without complaint.
Theo groans from where he's standing on a step ladder, red and gold ornament in hand.
"At least it isn't on Christmas Eve itself. That would be truly terrible timing."
Grayson huffs indignantly, setting down the silver snowflake he was about to hang.
"It's the day before Christmas Eve, Theo. That's barely better. And frankly, I thought the game plan for tomorrow was to go on our puppy adoption adventure. We've been planning this for weeks."
My face falls dramatically.
My lower lip actually juts out in an unconscious pout that I don't even try to hide or control.
"Wait. Does that mean we can't get our puppy before Christmas? But I already picked out names! And bought toys! And a bed! And food bowls! And a collar! And a leash! And—"
I was so incredibly excited about getting a puppy. A pack puppy.
Our first pet together as a family.
I've been researching breeds every night for weeks. Scrolling through shelter websites before bed. Reading articles about puppy care and training. Watching YouTube videos about positive reinforcement techniques. Making lists of everything we need to buy.
I found the perfect one too.
A golden retriever mix named Biscuit at the Oakridge Animal Shelter.
He has the sweetest face I've ever seen. Big brown eyes and floppy ears and this goofy smile in all his photos. He's eight months old. Already house-trained. Knows basic commands. The shelter description says he loves everyone and everything and is great with other animals and children.
Perfect for our pack.
I wanted to bring him home before Christmas so badly.
So he could be part of our first holiday together.
So he could be in our Christmas morning photos wearing a cute festive bandana I already bought.
So he could have his own stocking on the mantle next to ours.
So he could wake us up early wanting to play with his new toys.
So he could be there for our first Christmas as a complete pack.
I've never had a dog before.
Kael wouldn't allow pets. Said they were too messy and expensive and needy.
But I've always wanted one. Always dreamed about having a loyal companion.
Someone who loves unconditionally. Who's always happy to see you.
Who just wants to be near you. A dog seemed like the physical embodiment of pure joy.
Nash walks over from where he was adjusting garland on the mantle, his blue eyes soft and reassuring.
"The shelters don't close until 6pm the day before Christmas Eve, Sugarplum. We should make it on time even with the hearing. What time is the court date scheduled for?"
I look back down at the paper, scanning for the time.
"Two pm. Tomorrow. December twenty-third."
Nash nods confidently. "We should definitely make it to the shelter even if things run into overtime. Most hearings don't go past three hours maximum. That gives us plenty of buffer time. We'll get your puppy."
Relief floods through me. "Really? We can still go?"
"Really," he confirms with a small smile. "We're not letting Kael's nonsense ruin our Christmas plans. That's exactly what he wants. We're not giving him that power."
After my complete panic attack meltdown last week outside Charlotte's office—which I'm still slightly embarrassed about even though Nash keeps telling me it was completely understandable and normal—we went inside to confront Kael.
Except we didn't have to.
Charlotte had already shooed away Kael and his so-called 'lawyer' because of their hostile and aggressive behavior toward her staff.
Apparently Kael started yelling and making threats the moment Charlotte questioned the validity of his claims. Made himself look terrible.
Made it easy for Charlotte to kick them out.
So we didn't have to confront them face-to-face after all that mental preparation. Part of me was relieved. Part of me felt like I'd psyched myself up for nothing. But mostly I was just grateful I didn't have to see Kael's face or hear his voice or smell his scent.
After Nash and Theo and Grayson explained everything to Charlotte—showed her all the documentation they'd been secretly gathering, all the evidence proving Kael was lying, all the legal verification that my dissolution was completely legitimate—Charlotte immediately decided to stay firmly on our side.
She said to let Kael's defamation tactics go into full effect.
Let him commit completely to his lies.
Then we'd destroy him with facts.
That was when the absolute chaos started to explode on social media.
Kael went absolutely nuclear on every social media platform.
TikTok. Instagram. Twitter. Facebook. Even LinkedIn somehow. Telling anyone and everyone who would possibly listen that I was a cheater and a liar and a fraud. That I was using my new pack cynically for fame and money and clout.
That I'd never properly or legally dissolved our pack bond.
I was violating sacred pack law. A calculating gold-digger who deliberately trapped innocent unsuspecting Alphas.
That everything about my entire social media presence was fake and staged and scripted.
I was a manipulative Omega who knew exactly what she was doing to gain sympathy and followers.
He posted long rambling rants filled with lies.
Made dramatic videos with crying and yelling. Did multiple live streams where he answered questions and spun more lies. Showed up uninvited in my comment sections on every single post.
Tagged me repeatedly in posts and stories. His entire pack members joined in the campaign. Created a coordinated harassment effort. It was relentless and overwhelming and absolutely terrifying to watch unfold.
His pack mates made their own posts.
Shared old photos of me looking sad or tired with captions about how miserable I made everyone. Claimed I was difficult to live with. Said I was lazy and entitled. Made up stories about me being mean or rude or selfish.
Created this entirely fictional narrative about who I was as a person.
Drama channels picked up the story. Made videos analyzing everything. Dissecting my relationship timeline. Questioning my motives. Speculating about my character. Getting details wrong but presenting them as facts. Getting millions of views off my pain.
That was probably the hardest part of the entire last week.