Chapter 21 Willow
WILLOW
“Santa came!” The door bursts open. Light from the hallway floods the room, followed by a stampede of small feet and the shrill sound of uncontainable joy.
“Theo, wait—” Rose’s voice cuts off in a laugh. “You can’t just—”
“Santa came!” he yells again, louder this time, as if the entire house needs to know.
I groan into the pillow. “What time is it?”
“Five,” Damien mumbles against my shoulder, his voice rough with sleep.
Vincent makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl from the other side of the bed. “Five… in the morning?”
“Five-oh-seven,” Elise supplies helpfully, climbing straight onto the mattress. She’s still in her candy-cane pajamas, her curls sticking up in all directions.
Cast groans from somewhere behind me. “How do you know that?”
“I checked,” she says proudly, tugging at the blanket. “Santa came and there’s presents and Scooter already sniffed them and there’s bows and—”
“Okay,” Cast says, rubbing at his face. “Pause. Breathe. Words in order.”
Penny bounces in after her siblings, dragging her blanket behind her like a cape. Scooter, tail thumping, follows right at her heels.
The room erupts. Rose and Theo are trying to climb onto the bed. Elise is already in my lap. Penny’s babbling about cookies and stockings and the “big sparkly box.” Scooter is barking like an alarm clock with fur.
“Santa came,” Theo insists, tugging on Cast’s arm. “You have to come see, now!”
“Give us two minutes,” Cast says, half-groaning, half-laughing. His voice is muffled by the pillow he drags over his face. “Go. Go downstairs. We’ll be right there.”
Theo doesn’t move. “You promise?”
“On my life.”
Damien props himself on one elbow, eyes squinting through the tangle of hair and blanket. “That’s a dangerous promise, brother.”
“Then you’d better get up with me,” Cast mutters.
Vincent finally sits up, running a hand through his hair, eyes still bleary. “Everyone out,” he says, voice low but firm. “Go, give us five minutes.”
Rose folds her arms. “You said two.”
Vincent gives her a look. “Five is the adult version of two.”
That earns a laugh from Damien, who leans forward to kiss my shoulder before swinging his legs off the bed. “I’ll make coffee.”
“Bless you,” I mumble.
He pats my leg and disappears into the hallway, trailed by the sound of the kids arguing over who gets to go down the stairs first.
Cast waits until the last footstep fades before dropping the pillow and looking around at the wreck of blankets. “I think we just got ambushed.”
“You think?” Vincent mutters.
Scooter lingers in the doorway, tail wagging, clearly torn between obeying Cast’s order and following the scent of cinnamon from the kitchen.
“Go,” I tell him softly. “Protect the presents.”
He barks once—apparently in agreement—and trots off.
The three of us are still half tangled in the blankets, the sheets warm, the air soft with the scent of pine and the last trace of last night’s candle.
I look around and can’t help the small, tired smile that pulls at me.
Vincent’s hair is a wreck, sticking up in every direction.
Cast’s shirt is inside-out, his sleeve rolled halfway to the elbow like he gave up trying.
The nightstand between them is cluttered with the ghosts of yesterday—a glass of water, Vincent’s watch, a half-melted candle.
We look like a disaster. A happy one.
Cast catches my gaze, one eyebrow lifting in sleepy suspicion. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “Just… this.”
“This?” Vincent murmurs, voice still rough from sleep.
“This,” I repeat, motioning weakly at the bed, the mess, the comfort of it all. “It’s nice.”
Cast shifts closer before I can look away. The mattress dips, the sheets rustling as his knee brushes mine. “Nice,” he repeats quietly, like he’s testing the word on his tongue.
“Mm.” My voice catches somewhere between sleepy and content. “It feels real.”
He studies me for a long moment, eyes tracing over my face, the half-smile I can’t quite hide. Then he leans in, slow enough that I feel his breath before his lips.
The first kiss is light—just a graze at the corner of my mouth, as if he’s asking permission. When I don’t pull away, he tilts his head and presses another to the hollow of my throat, softer still. His stubble grazes my skin, and the warmth of his breath sends a small shiver racing up my spine.
“Cast,” I whisper, not really in protest.
“Hmm?” His lips find the curve just beneath my jaw, a kiss that feels like both apology and promise.
“Kids,” I manage. “They’ll be—”
“Downstairs,” he murmurs against my skin. “Occupied.”
I laugh quietly, the sound catching in my throat. He kisses the spot where it trembles. My hand slides up into his hair without thinking, fingers curling at the back of his neck.
Vincent’s voice breaks the spell, low and amused. “You two planning to make us late for Christmas?”
Cast lifts his head but doesn’t move far. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Vincent gives a quiet huff of a laugh and reaches over to brush his thumb along my cheek, his touch lighter than air. “He’s right, though,” he says softly. “It is nice.”
But then Damien reappears with a tray of steaming mugs and saves us from the heaviness. “Two minutes are up,” he says, passing one to me, one to Vincent, one to Cast. “If we don’t go soon, they’ll open everything without us.”
Cast sighs, standing. “And here I thought Christmas was supposed to be restful.”
Vincent smirks faintly. “Only for the ones who don’t pay the credit card bill.”
I laugh and climb out of bed, pulling on my robe. “Come on, you have more than me to open up.”
“But that’s my favorite part of Christmas,” Vincent pouts, still sitting on the edge of the bed, pretending he isn’t smiling.
Cast tugs the blanket off him. “Move, Beaumont.”
Damien shakes his head, already halfway out the door. “If you two keep flirting, I’m drinking your coffee.”
“Damien, you drink my coffee I will dull all your skates for the next season,” Cast mutters, following him.
I tie my robe tighter and trail after them down the hall.
The house smells like cinnamon and pine, faint coffee and something sweet from the kitchen.
The quiet of the upstairs fades with every step—replaced by the muffled shrieks of our children trying to contain their excitement and failing miserably.
By the time we reach the stairs, the chaos has already begun.
Theo is knee-deep in wrapping paper, tearing through a box while Elise cheers beside him.
Rose has taken it upon herself to hand out presents, her hair a wild halo of bedhead and enthusiasm.
Penny’s perched on the couch, feet kicking, holding Scooter’s paw like they’re sharing a secret.
The dog’s tail thumps nonstop against the cushions.
“Look mommy! Look!” Elise squeals when she spots us, waving a stuffed bunny in the air.
“You didn’t wait for us?” I say, smiling as I step down into the living room.
“We waited five minutes,” Theo insists, his face smeared with chocolate. “That’s forever.”
Damien grins, bending to ruffle his hair. “Fair point.”
I roll my eyes as I slide onto the couch, ruffling Penny’s hair as I move past. Cast drops onto the couch beside me, coffee in hand. “That’s how you know they’re ours.”
Vincent crouches near the tree and pulls out another wrapped box. “This one’s for you, Penny.”
She gasps, hands flying to her mouth. “For me?”
“Mm-hm.” He passes it to her carefully, as if it’s made of glass.
She tears it open and finds a small stuffed reindeer with a crooked red bow. Her entire face lights up. “He’s perfect.”
Scooter barks once, jealous.
“His name is Cocoa,” Penny informs him seriously. “And he’s mine.”
Rose leans over, nudging her gently. “Don’t forget Mom’s.”
Penny’s eyes widen. “Oh yeah!”
Suddenly, all four kids scramble to the back of the tree, where a medium-sized box sits wrapped in silver paper and tied with a white ribbon. It’s covered in fingerprints and faint streaks of glitter—definitely their handiwork.
Theo and Elise lift it together and carry it toward me with the ceremony of royal guards. Rose follows behind, clutching a folded card.
Penny bounces on her toes. “Open it! It’s from us!”
I blink, taken off guard. “From all of you?”
Rose nods proudly. “We made it ourselves. Well, mostly. Damien helped with the scissors because Theo almost lost a finger.”
“Snitched!” Theo yells.
“Saved your hand,” Damien replies smoothly.
Vincent leans back against the couch beside me, watching with quiet amusement. “Go on,” he murmurs. “Open it.”
My hands tremble a little as I untie the ribbon.
Inside, wrapped in tissue, is a hand-painted frame—uneven, bright, the corners thick with glitter.
Inside it is a photo I recognize instantly: all of us in the backyard this past summer, Penny sitting on Vincent’s shoulders, Rose and Elise blowing bubbles, Theo mid-laugh.
I’m behind them, brush in hand, half-turned toward the camera.
In bright, messy marker, the kids have written across the top: Our Family.
For a moment, I can’t speak. My throat tightens, vision blurring at the edges.
“Do you like it?” Elise asks softly.
I nod, swallowing hard. “I love it.”
Rose beams. “We wanted you to have something happy to look at when you paint.”
Theo adds quickly, “So you remember we’re your favorite.”
I laugh, the sound trembling. “You’re all my favorite.”
Penny climbs onto my lap without asking, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Merry Christmas, Mommy.”
I hold her close, pressing my cheek to her hair. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
Then I look up, heart suddenly hammering. “And I actually have a present for all of you.”
Four small faces turn toward me. Cast glances up from his mug, one brow lifting. Vincent stills beside me, curiosity flickering across his face. Damien lowers the camera he’s been using to film the chaos, grin fading into something softer.
“What kind of present?” Rose asks, bouncing on her knees.
“The best kind,” I say. “One that’s going to take a little time to unwrap.”
Theo squints. “Like a puzzle?”
“Sort of.”
I glance at Cast first. He catches the look immediately—his smirk fades, replaced by a faint crease between his brows. Vincent’s eyes narrow, half-smile caught in uncertainty.
My hands shake as I smooth Penny’s hair. “I wanted to wait until this morning to tell you because it felt right—because it’s the kind of gift that belongs to all of us.” I take a breath, my voice dropping to a whisper. “We’re having another baby.”
Then Rose gasps loud enough to wake the dead. “Another one?!”
Theo shouts, “No way!” while Elise claps both hands over her mouth.
Penny blinks at me, confused. “Like… a baby baby?”
I nod, tears catching in my throat. “Yeah, sweetheart. A baby baby.”
She breaks into a grin so wide it nearly swallows her face. “Then I get to be a big sister again!”
Scooter barks, as if he understands, tail wagging hard enough to knock a bow off the coffee table.
Vincent’s hand covers mine—warm, trembling slightly. He stares at me like he’s not sure if he heard right. “You’re—”
I nod. “Pregnant. I found out a few days ago.”
His throat works, eyes glinting with a mix of shock and something fragile—joy, fear, wonder all tangled together. “You were going to wait until today to tell us?”
I smile through the tears. “It’s Christmas. I wanted it to be happy news.”
Cast exhales, a quiet laugh breaking the tension. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, but his voice is rough, eyes bright. He leans down and kisses the top of my head, his hand cupping my cheek for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Best damn present anyone’s getting this year.”
Damien crosses the room, still grinning like a fool. “You serious?”
“Completely.”
He lets out a low whistle. “Guess the family’s getting even louder.”
“Impossible,” Cast mutters, but he’s smiling as he says it.
Theo throws both hands in the air. “Does that mean I get to teach it how to build stuff?”
“If you promise not to blow anything up,” Vincent says automatically, his voice unsteady with laughter.
Rose bounces beside him. “Can it be a girl?”
Elise shakes her head. “No, a boy!”
Penny presses a hand to my stomach, eyes huge. “He’s in there?”
“Or she,” I whisper, covering her hand with mine.
Vincent leans closer, brushing his thumb over the back of my wrist. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m good,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Better than good.”
For a long moment, the room is all warmth—firelight and color, the children crowding around me, the men watching with that look I’ve come to love most: awe hidden beneath disbelief.
Cast finally clears his throat. “So, who’s telling Scooter he’s not the baby anymore?”
The kids erupt into laughter. Penny hugs my stomach. Vincent’s arm slips around my shoulders. And for the first time in months, every sound in the house feels warm like a little Christmas miracle.