Chapter 23 Maddie
MADDIE
Iwake up in Jake’s bed on Christmas morning feeling like the luckiest woman alive. The wedding was so beautiful, and the thought of last night has me blushing before I even open my eyes.
I roll over to find my husband, but his side of the bed is empty already. He must be with Dylan.
I smile just thinking of the little guy. It’s Christmas morning, of course he’s up early. I’m just surprised I didn’t hear him.
I imagine him tiptoeing in here to find his dad. Jake actually getting up without waking me seems like kind of a miracle. But I guess I was pretty tired, and it’s so cozy in here.
Honestly, even now I’m almost tempted to stay in bed for one more delicious moment under the warm covers in this nice cool room.
But that would mean missing a minute with Jake and Dylan and I’m just not willing to give up a single moment with my new family.
I’m out of bed in a heartbeat, luxuriating under the hot spray in the chalet’s massive stone-tiled shower and then slipping into my coziest clothes.
As I pad down the hallway, I can already hear their laughter and smell sugar and cinnamon wafting my way.
I’m still too far away to make out their words, but I can hear Dylan saying something in his most excited squeaky voice followed by the thunder of Jake’s laughter.
That’s a sound I hope we’ll be hearing a lot more of in the years to come.
The big man really seems like he’s let his guard down these last few weeks.
And while the grumpy billionaire I met that very first day still makes his appearance from time to time, mostly Jake is more relaxed—quicker to laugh than to storm, ready to leave the business world in his office at the end of the day, and happy to spend time enjoying everything he’s worked so hard for.
When I reach the open living space I look across the holiday magic of the sumptuously decorated living room and dining room to the kitchen, where Jake and Dylan are at the island cooktop wearing Christmas aprons and flipping French toast.
Dylan is up on his step stool so that he’s just about even with Jake’s shoulder, which he’s leaning on now, an expression of pure happiness on his little face.
Jake’s eyes are on me and I can see in that flash of cerulean how much he loves me, and how glad he is that we get to spend this day together.
I feel it like a soul-deep hug, and gaze back at him, besotted. I’m lovesick and not afraid if my goofy smile gives me away.
“Look who’s here,” Jake murmurs to Dylan.
“Maddie,” Dylan yells, scrambling off his stool and launching himself across the room.
“Merry Christmas, dill pickle,” I tell him.
“Merry Christmas,” he says when he reaches me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and then pulling back with a tentative expression. “Merry Christmas… Mommy.”
That’s all it takes to start the waterworks. I lift him up in my arms, hoping he won’t notice, and he wraps himself around me like a vine. But of course he can’t help but notice that I’m sobbing.
“You’re crying because you’re happy,” he says a little worriedly, like he’s not a hundred percent sure.
“I just l-love hearing you call me mommy,” I manage after a second. “I’m c-crying because I’m v-very happy.”
“That’s nice, Mommy,” he says lightly, patting my back.
For some reason the fact that he’s so easygoing about things after only a moment of reassurance is funny to me, so now I’m laughing a little through my tears as Jake comes to embrace us both.
He cups my cheek in his big hand, and tilts my face up to him.
His eyes are twinkling.
“Are you laughing at me?” I ask him, pulling myself together.
“Never,” he says, but a dimple pops on his cheek and the corner of his mouth tugs up and I can tell that he’s trying hard not to laugh.
“We made French toast,” Dylan suddenly remembers, wiggling to get down and show me.
Jake pulls me in for a quick kiss that sends lightning bolts down my spine, and then we both follow Dylan into the kitchen to admire their handiwork.
It actually looks really good.
“Are you surprised?” Jake asks.
“I mean, this looks almost professional,” I tell him.
“Bronson gave us a few pointers,” Jake says, shrugging. But I can tell how pleased he is.
They take off their aprons, and Dylan marches around as puffed-up as a peacock while Jake plates the food and I pour us each a glass of orange juice.
The French toast is light as air and deliciously sweet, but we hurry through breakfast because it’s clear how much Dylan wants to open presents. He doesn’t ask, but he keeps squirming in his chair and peeking over at the tree between bites.
“Is anyone ready for presents?” Jake asks when the kitchen is tidied up again.
“Me!” Dylan squeals, making a beeline for the tree.
Jake pours us each a mug of coffee and we head out to join Dylan.
“How about that nice big one first,” Jake says, pointing to a box-shaped gift. “Let’s see who that’s for.”
Dylan scrambles over to it and flips the tag over.
“Me,” he says excitedly, his feet dancing in place. “It’s for me.”
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Jake says. “Do you need any help opening it?”
But that’s all the encouragement Dylan needs to tug at the ribbon and then attack the paper with everything he’s worth.
I can’t help smiling and Jake grabs my hand in his, chuckling as we both watch our favorite boy reveal the box that contains the gift he’s been wishing for since the day I met him.
“A train set,” he yells, before dashing over to wrap an arm around each of us and squeeze us hard. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Jake crawls over and drags the box into the open so we can watch Dylan unpack it.
“Can you cut the tape?” Dylan asks his father, hopping up and down a little as he waits.
By the time we’ve got the wooden train set unpacked, Dylan is delivering a nonstop monologue about how cool it is and where the train is going and who is riding on it.
We sit back to watch him arrange everything, sipping our coffee and enjoying the magical moment.
“Now, everyone hold on tight,” Dylan advises his passengers in the rumbly voice he has assigned to the conductor.
I laugh as he whips the train around the coffee table, and Jake leans over to me.
“Do you think he needs a brother or sister?” he whispers in my ear.
I can actually feel my heart trying to beat outside my chest.
“Only if you want,” he adds quickly. “And no rush.”
But the idea of making this family even bigger sounds amazing to me. I can already imagine Dylan pushing his little brother or sister on the swings, or teaching them how to do all the things he loves doing. He’s going to be an amazing big brother.
“Soon would be good,” I manage.
“That’s my girl,” Jake murmurs, pulling me close.
“What about your present, Mommy?” Dylan suddenly pops up to ask me.
“Can I give you one first?” I ask him.
His eyes sparkle as he nods his head up and down.
“Okay,” I say, pulling out a big awkward thing from behind the tree. “Here you go.”
“Wow, that’s big,” Dylan says, ripping into it without hesitation.
A moment later, the gift is revealed. I hold my breath. It’s kind of old-fashioned…
“A sled,” Dylan says. “A sled.”
It’s a big wooden one with red rails, just like the ones in most of his picture books. I hoped he would love it, and by his smile I think I made a good choice.
“I thought it would be just right for all that snow you keep wishing for,” I tell him with a smile. “And your dad can probably fit on there with you.”
“Look out mountains,” Jake says. “Here we come.”
“Look out mountains,” Dylan echoes, galloping around the room like he just won the Kentucky Derby. “Look out mountains.”
He’s definitely on a sugar high from all that French toast and maple syrup, but I think Jake and I can take a little credit too. Dylan is having a good Christmas, and it’s not really the presents. I think it’s more about the fact that we’re all together.
“Should we give your daddy his present?” I ask him.
Dylan rushes right over to the tree and grabs the gift we picked out together.
Jake has been laughing more lately, and it will be great if he has his sense of humor ready for this, because even though it’s a little cheesy, I really hope he puts it to use.
“What can it be?” Jake asks, pretending to shake the big box.
“No, no,” Dylan laughs. “You don’t shake it. You open it up.”
Jake winks at me and sets it down, making quick work of the wrapping paper until the gift is revealed.
Jake just blinks at it for a moment.
It’s a good-sized box with a picture of a singing family on it, and the words Home Karaoke Machine in enormous font.
I’m worried that I made the wrong choice with this gift, until Jake starts laughing his head off.
“Do you like it, Daddy?” Dylan asks him.
“Oh, I love it,” Jake says, pulling him in for a hug. “Do you know why?”
Dylan shakes his head.
“Because this means you and Maddie like it when I sing,” he says. “Do I have a beautiful singing voice? Should I join the opera?”
“No, Daddy,” Dylan howls with laughter.
But it’s too late, Jake is singing pretend operatic scales with a very important look on his face and now I’m laughing too.
Who would have thought Jake Stone could be such a goofball when he wants to be?
“Now it’s Maddie’s turn,” Jake says, turning to me with a smile.
Dylan rushes the tree again, all business now, and grabs a little scroll of wrapping paper to hand to me.
“Oh, what’s this?” I ask.
“It’s your Christmas present,” Dylan tells me.
“Oh wow,” I say, unfurling the rolled-up paper to reveal some writing.
Follow me!
When I look up, Dylan is scampering down the hall.
“Hang on,” I call to him, scrambling up and heading after him with Jake at my heels.
Dylan is waiting at the door to one of the guest rooms. This one is just past Jake’s bedroom—our bedroom, and it has a big red bow on it.
“What’s this?” I ask.
Jake nods to Dylan and he throws the door open.
I just stand in the threshold for a moment, unable to believe my eyes.
“It’s for you,” Dylan says, tugging on my hand. “It’s for you to write books.”
“And to read books,” Jake adds. “We know your dad already made an office for you at the factory. We wanted you to have a special space at home too.”
I take in the sweetness of what he’s just said at the same time that I take in the room.
The whole back wall is a plate glass window overlooking the snowy hillside. There’s a cozy window seat with about a million pillows on the left side and a beautiful built-in desk and a leather chair on the right. I can just imagine siting there to write my next book.
The right and left walls are empty built-in bookshelves.
“We thought you would want to fill them yourself,” Jake tells me quietly. “Except for a few we know you loved.”
Some of my favorites sit on the shelves. Jake has really been paying attention to the ones I fawn over when we take Dylan to the library in town.
“And the ones I love, too,” Dylan puts in, pointing to the back wall where there is a daybed and a small bookshelf stocked with picture books.
“I can keep you company sometimes,” Dylan says shyly as I walk over to take a look.
“This is perfect for us,” I tell him. “We can sit here and read as many books as we want.”
Instantly, his joy and confidence are back.
“Yes, yes—yes, yes,” he says, like he’s too excited and the words are forming a traffic jam in his mouth. “We can read that funny one, and the one with the really good pictures, and the one about trains.”
“I think we should read them all,” I tell him, crawling onto the daybed and patting the seat beside me.
I expect Jake to sit on my other side, but instead he crouches at my feet.
“I know it’s a funny gift,” he tells me quietly, like he’s not sure how I feel about it. “This is already your home.”
He wants to know what I think, and I’m so amazed I don’t know what to say. I’ve gone from being homeless, to living in a broom closet, to having two beautiful spaces all my own.
“I love it,” I tell him, reaching out to stroke his jaw, and loving the way his eyes melt from icy blue into the warm color of the summer sky. “Thank you for making me feel important.”
“You are important,” Dylan tells me, crawling into my lap. “Now let’s read about trains.”
Jake leans in to kiss me before he gets onto the daybed with us and I open the book, snuggled between my husband and son.
As we read the first page, Dylan’s wish comes true again. Snow begins to fall gently out the window, dancing onto the trees, and the lawn, and the house that has somehow become the home I longed for—not because of a room or a desk or a pretty view, but because of the people sharing it with me.
The family I love with all my heart.
***
Thanks for reading Please Send Snow