Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Cormac
Murdering my brother on Christmas would be frowned upon. It’s not like I could actually go through with it, anyway.
Now that he and Charlotte have bonded, it would cause her pain, and I’m not about hurting her.
Him? He could do with a little suffering, but I’ll have to find sneaky ways to torture him.
Ways that won’t impact Charlotte.
That’s the only reason Patrick is still alive to sport that cocky smile he wears all through breakfast.
Lucky is anxious to get to the present part of Christmas, and I can’t blame him. I remember what it was like waiting to finally dig in on Christmas morning.
Malachy and I hand out everyone’s presents. There’s a distinct lack of gifts for the three of us—even Miriam has a decent-size pile—but we understood the assignment.
Charlotte and Lucky will be spoiled this year.
I got the feeling Miriam wanted to give us time to celebrate as a family, but I assume she’ll be by once she and Seamus exchange their own gifts.
Even thinking of the five of us as a family is a bit of a foreign concept. Though it’s a good adjustment to have to get used to.
The omega now sports claiming bites from both my brothers, and although I know it’s not a race, I am beginning to feel a twinge left out. I intend to rectify that soon, possibly as my reward for finally breaking McCarthy.
That son of a bitch is stubborn, but his time is coming.
Charlotte kneels on the floor, watching her son rip into his first gift. She helps gather the wrapping paper, shoving it into the garbage bag she asked for before coming into the room.
I have the overwhelming urge to tell her not to worry about cleaning up as he goes.
This is her Christmas too.
We can all chip in to tidy up once everyone is done opening. However, I don’t want to embarrass her.
Malachy sits in one of the club chairs, recording, while Patrick moves around the room, snapping pictures. It’s actually rather a sweet domestic moment.
Striding over, I squat down next to her and Lucky.
“Why don’t you start opening a few of yours?” I grab the trash bag from where it rests next to her on the floor. “I’ll take over clean-up duty for a bit.”
“He’s going to make a big mess,” she says, smiling tightly.
“That’s part of the magic of Christmas morning.
” I cradle her face in my hand and lean in, giving her a quick kiss.
“The joy for Malachy, Patrick, and me will be watching the two of you open your goodies. Relax, love. Settle in and enjoy yourself.” I nuzzle my nose to hers and pull back, moving to grab the box Lucky tosses aside as he rips out his next gift.
“Oh my god,” he says, making me chuckle. Charlotte wasn’t wrong when she mentioned he repeats everything he hears said by one of us. We’ll all need to clean up our language. “Mommy! Look at my dump truck! It’s a block kit.”
“Yes, the bottom of our feet will never be safe again, but the age on that type of Lego is for two years plus.” Patrick chuckles. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll help you put it together, if you need help.”
“I want to play with it right now!” Lucky says, his head bobbing up and down.
“You’ve got a whole lot left to go,” Malachy says from behind me. “Open a few more, and you can spend this afternoon playing ’til your heart’s content.”
My gaze meets Charlotte’s. “You’ve got backup now. We’ll all help out with him. Open your gifts.”
Her eyes glitter as her teeth dig into her lower lip. “Thank you.”
I believe she might be on the verge of shedding a few tears, but that’s okay too. I can’t imagine how hard the last few years have been for her. Even the thought of her and Lucky at their old apartment, just the two of them on Christmas, makes my chest tight.
I’m not emotional by nature, but there’s no way Lucky was buying gifts for her at his age, and I’m sure she overlooked spending money on herself to be able to splurge for him.
I can’t begin to guess how lonely she was as the only adult during the holidays. Every bit of cooking, cleaning, and planning fell on her, just so he could enjoy the holiday.
It also makes me realize how much I’ve taken my brothers for granted. We tend to go our own ways, but we always come together for Christmas Eve dinner, breakfast on Christmas morning, and to exchange a few small gifts at some point during the day.
It only makes me more determined to make every future holiday an even more magical affair.
We went way overboard with gifts for Lucky to the point the entire floor is covered with new toys, playsets, clothes, shoes, and anything else that caught one of our eyes.
Charlotte moves to the couch with Patrick while she’s in the middle of opening her gifts just to have some space away from his massive pile.
Malachy picked a kids’ tool bench, complete with a working plastic drill, screws, screwdrivers, wrenches, a fake saw, and hammers. The moment Lucky opened that box, he lost interest in the other gifts—both wrapped and unwrapped.
We might have to do a second round of gift opening this evening. He woke up quite early, and he’s become a bit cranky and fussy waiting for his new tool bench to be assembled.
Charlotte gets up and brings him a sippy cup of milk. “Here, why don’t you come sit with me while we wait?”
“No,” he grunts around the spout to his cup. My eyes widen as the boy comes right to me.
“Would you like me to hold you?” I ask as he leans against my knee.
“Okay.” His head bobs up and down.
My eyes dart to Charlotte to make sure it won’t hurt her feelings, since he just declined sitting with her. She’s already distracted by Patrick again, and he hands her another gift.
I pick up Lucky, and he rests his cheek on my shoulder. My body naturally sways back and forth.
Perhaps it’s a biological impulse.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m trying. He needs to spend time with all of us. At some point, I imagine he’ll realize he has three new dads.
The thought doesn’t scare me in the way I assumed it would.
My major fear is that I’ll fuck something up.
Parenting is the hardest job on the planet. I came to that conclusion while I was watching Charlotte trying to manage it all alone. Now she has us, but we’re getting more of what I would consider on-the-job training. Though, I suppose that’s true for all parents.
Lucky pats my shoulder as his cup squeaks, releasing air as he sucks down the milk. I smile and nuzzle my cheek to his head.
I bet he’ll take a short nap and wake up ready to play with his new toys.
“I can’t wait to see it on you,” Patrick says, catching my attention. “You can wear it when I take you for your shooting lessons.”
Charlotte has already shoved whatever inappropriate gift he gave her back into the bag. Her cheeks are pink, but her entire demeanor is lighter than before.
Sometimes I’m jealous of how he manages to put others at ease.
This isn’t one of those times.
I like to think that each one of us brings something to the table that Charlotte needs.
The couch is piled high with the gifts she’s already opened, and a few she hasn’t, but she ignores them all, climbing onto Patrick’s lap.
He wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for a kiss.
Just based on the look on his face, I’d say he’s well on his way to falling in love with her.
It might make me a bit jealous, but it’s a good thing.
I continue to sway side to side, rocking Lucky to sleep.
Hopefully she’s happy with her presents.
Between the three of us, she got an entirely new wardrobe, shoes, a purse and wallet, a bookshelf, all the books she could possibly need to fill that bookshelf, jewelry—which might be a bad call since I’ve never actually seen her wear any—and Patrick got her a new gun and lessons at the shooting range we frequent.
I thought the last one might be in poor taste, but it looks like Charlotte has a sense of humor about that ordeal.