27. Little Wonders
Little Wonders
Afew days later, my apartment is transformed. Carole’s elves—actual stylists, not metaphorical ones—swept through with garlands, candles, bowls of dried oranges, and the kind of tree you’d see in a Rockefeller catalog. Everything smells like fir and clove and quiet money.
Just in time for Christmas Eve.
Riley and I have our own little celebration—our version of Noche Buena, like how Mom and I used to start Christmas. The food was mostly Filipino, with a few Australian curveballs thrown in. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt right.
I invited Philippa and Andrew, but Philippa is still unwell, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy. As my first honorable duty as an auntie-to-be, I’m not about to break that pact.
It feels nice to share something special with my sister and my brother-in-law. I’m giddy at the thought.
Ava is in Aspen with her family.
So tonight, it’s just the essentials: Riley, Broderick, and Luca—my security, driver, and sometimes friend. He’s a new addition. Though secretly I’m playing Cupid for Riley.
Since Atlanta, we’d gotten closer, of my three security details—he’s my favorite. I know Riley likes him, but after he rejected her at the wedding, they’ve been locked in this awkward tit-for-tat thing.
I hope including Broderick in tonight’s festivities gives him the more he’s looking for—without over complicating things.
I hope.
The kitchen is a disaster. Roasting pans everywhere, oil-splattered oven mitts on the counter, and a stack of lumpia cooling beside a mountain of mashed potatoes.
“Okay, wait—why do I have to be on lumpia duty?” Riley complains, tossing another roll onto the tray. “You know I can’t be trusted not to sample the product.”
“You’re the only one I trust not to burn them,” I say, stirring the thick gravy on the stove. “You’re basically an honorary Filipino. Mom unofficially adopted you.”
Riley’s childhood was rough—she spent half her time at our place.
Her parents preferring drugs over responsibility, a house packed with kids surviving on stale bread and instant noodles.
My mom made meals for them more times than I can count.
When Riley’s older siblings ran away, the moment they turned sixteen, the younger ones were all left to fend for themselves.
When Riley was seventeen, she finally called Child Protective Services. After that, my mother and Jack fostered her and her two younger brothers. By the time the boys turned sixteen, they’d gone their separate ways—one joined the army, and the other, heartbreakingly, fell into addiction.
“Naww.” She grins. “But you know you lie about the lumpia. Zero trust, babe. Zero.”
Broderick walks past, shirt sleeves rolled up, carrying the lechon like it’s a baby made of molten lava. “If this collapses, we’re ordering pizza.”
Riley makes a face. “If it collapses, I’m blaming your gym-bro biceps for being ornamental.”
Luca leans against the counter, sipping soda from a wine glass like he’s above all of us. “Why wasn’t I assigned any cooking responsibilities?”
“Because you bribed me with red velvet cake from Balthazar,” I say. “Which, honestly, was smart.”
Luca shrugs. “I play to win.”
Riley nudges me with her elbow. “You two should get a room.”
Broderick stiffens, looking between Luca and me. I wink at him and shake my head.
I snort. “You’re projecting, babe.”
“I’m not.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You insisted he walk around with us in IKEA just to ‘test the shocks’ of each and every bed on display.”
“That was for science.”
Broderick glances over with a grin. “Should we leave the room, give you two some privacy to test the shocks?”
“No,” Riley says. “You should stay and tell your lover to ease up on the accusations.”
“I picking up on a vibe between you.” Broderick laughs, pointing between Riley and Luca.
“There’s no vibe,” Luca says smoothly, refilling his glass. “But if there were, I wouldn’t be mad.”
Riley turns beet-red and throws a tea towel at him. “You had your chance, you blew it,” she says, her brow arching.
Luca shakes his head, and yet he can’t seem to take his eyes off her.
After dinner we drink ourselves stupid, it’s time to exchange one gift. The usual tradition: a set of pajamas.
“My dearest beloved Riley,” I say with a dramatic flourish, wine warming my cheeks. “I bestow upon thee your Christmas Eve gift.”
Riley waves like she’s the Queen of England. “Thank you, my lady.”
“What about me?” Broderick asks, smirking.
I touch a hand to my chest. “Of course, my king—here you go.”
I lean in and kiss him.
His eyes widen slightly, flicking to Riley and Luca.
Riley freezes.
That’s the first time I’ve ever displayed any kind of PDA with Broderick. I mean if you don’t count the times we’d been caught…
Whatever. Rules, schmules.
“Elena,” she gasps. “You minx.”
“Oops,” I say, covering my mouth. “Here you go,” I add, handing Broderick his box, heat rising in my face.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk.
“And Luca—the best driver and security detail a girl could ask for.”
Shit. I’m drunk.
Luca laughs. Riley buries her face in her hands.
Weird. She’s usually the first with the dirty jokes. Now she’s all bashful, before I can analyze it, I notice her eyes turn wicked.
“My beloved Elena, the love of my life—I present thee with your own Christmas Eve box,” she says, handing it over.
“Awwww, you got me one too?”
“Okay. On one, we all open. Ready? One!”
Broderick opens his first—forest green silk pajamas. The image of him wearing them, me dry humping him on the couch, makes my head feel...hot.
Luca’s box reveals black silk ones—same cut, just moodier.
“Enjoy peeling those off him, Riley…with my blessing.” I wink—or try to. Pretty sure I just blink both eyelids shut like a lizard.
All three of them turn to look at me.
Oh shit. Did I say that out loud?
“Elena, the fuck?” Riley chokes out, eyes wide.
“Whoopsie.” I shrug like it’s all very innocent.
“I like drunk Elena. She’s fun,” Luca says, shaking his head.
Broderick pulls me into his lap and clamps a hand over my mouth.
Hmm. Now we’re talking.
I shift slightly—Yep. That’s definitely him.
Confirmed. He’s having a very merry Christmas.
Riley opens her box next—an emerald green negligee and robe set that matches her eyes and makes her hair practically glow. She holds it up like she’s on stage, grinning like a maniac.
I applaud like she’s revealing a prize on The Price Is Right.
Broderick tickles my side, and my laugh comes out strangled, still half-muffled under his palm.
“Your turn, babe,” Riley says, eyes glittering with mischief.
She’s already cracking up. Luca too—though he’s watching her like she’s the only person in the room.
I open my box.
Inside: a see-through black lace teddy. And nothing else.
I hold it up by one strap and twirl it in the air, squealing behind Broderick’s hand.
His fingers twitch against my mouth.
“Merry fucking Christmas, Broderick.” I manage to squirm free, just before he clamps his hand back down again.
Broderick eventually piles my drunk ass into bed, dressed in nothing but underwear and his T-shirt.
“Stay with me,” I ask snuggling into his neck.
“I thought that was against your rules.”
“Fuck the rules, we broke all of them anyway.” I pout. “I’m cold and want to cuddle.”
“You mean you’re drunk and horny?” He chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed. I pull him into me planting a kiss on his lips.
“That too.”
“Alright, I’ll stay. Pretty sure I’ve left some clothes here and you’ve stolen a bunch of my clothes anyway.”
“Yay!” I squeal like a gremlin. Mine…all mine muhahahahaha.
The room spins and the bed shifts as he stands.
“You know,” I say, staring up at the ceiling while he brushes his teeth in the ensuite, “you’re kind of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever known.”
I hear him laugh through the rush of running water. “You’re only saying that because you’re tipsy and I’m shirtless.”
“With the biggest dick I’ve ever seen!” I announce—way too loud, grinning as I flop onto my side.
He chokes on his mouthwash.
“Is that so?” he calls back, voice dripping with mock offence. “And here I thought you liked me for my sparkling personality.”
“That too.”
Then he appears in the doorway, shirtless, a towel still in hand, briefs riding low. The bed dips under his weight as he climbs in beside me.
“And your muscles make me sooooo horny.” I giggle, squeezing his bicep with both hands like I’m appraising a melon.
“Jesus,” he mutters, but he’s smiling—eyes crinkled, voice low. “You’re wild.”
“Wild for you, BAYBEEEE.”
Broderick chuckles. “One moment, sweetheart.”
He lifts two makeup wipes and gently removes my makeup. It feels so nice, like I’m something to be cherished.
“There she is—all done,” he says, bopping my nose.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for him. My brain is a fizzy mix of liquor and happiness.
He leans in and kisses my cheek, then gives me a firm smack on the ass. “You are absolutely going to regret this commentary in the morning.”
“You say that like I don’t mean every word.”
He climbs into bed and flicks off the side lamp, but the glow of the city still spills through the windows, turning his silhouette golden.
I wriggle around, burrowing into him…then without warning—I straddle him.
“Elena…” he warns, hands coming to my hips.
“Fuck me,” I say, grinding down on him with a slow roll of my hips.
He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow. “You’re drunk. I’m not going to—”
I pout, wiggling against him. “I’m not that drunk.”
“You just tried to convince me my biceps make you horny and announced my dick size to the ceiling.”
“Valid observations.”
He snorts. “You are such a menace.”
I drag my fingers down his torso, lazy and deliberate.
Lower.
And lower.
“Oh, there he is,” I say, grinning as I wrap my hand around him. “Hello, handsome,” I coo—talking directly to his cock.
He sucks in a breath, his abs tightening under my touch.
“Don’t you dare—” he warns, voice cracking mid-sentence.
I squeeze lightly, dragging my hips against him. “Mine.”
“You’re a brat,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “A drunk, dangerous little brat.”