Chapter 25 Christmas Day
Roman
Iwake up curled around Ren, who is nestled into a ball with almost her entire head under the covers.
It was quite cold last night and is possibly even colder this morning.
Though, the temperature did help the full-sized bed not feel so small compared to my king, because we were bundled so close together.
Something you won’t find me complaining about.
There are radiators downstairs in most rooms, but up here on the second floor, only the bathroom has one. You would think the bedrooms would get heating priority, but I suppose the original owners were the “put on another layer if you’re cold” type of people.
The chill gives me hope though that maybe some of Ren’s flurries stuck. I can see nothing but blue sky outside the window except . . . is that a light dusting on the muntins?
I get a rush I haven’t felt since I was a boy. Could this really be a white Christmas?
Do I wake Ren up? But what if it’s just a bit of frost?1
I strain to get a better look outside without jostling her, then decide fuck it, what’s the harm in believing in some Christmas magic?
I slowly rub her thigh until she starts making those sleepy, little noises telling me she’s awake. Brushing her hair back, I lightly kiss her neck and shoulders, and her quiet sounds morph into those of enjoyment.
“Ren, baby, look outside,” I whisper as she begins to unfurl from her tight ball.
She doesn’t have to scoot far to reach the edge of the bed and prop herself up on her elbows to look out the window.
The gasp she makes is almost as sweet as the one she made last night when I slowly sunk into her inch by inch. Almost.
I sit up, expecting to see a thin blanket of white. Instead, there's a thick, puffy layer of snow coating everything. The tree branches droop, and deer prints look like small tunnels in the otherwise pristine snow.
A cacophony of voices carries up the stairs. Ren looks at me over her shoulder. “Do you think we’re the only ones still in bed?”
“Possibly.” I shrug. “Normally, Lochlan can sleep ’til noon, but he’s like a kid on Christmas. Sometimes I swear he thinks Santa really comes down the chimney.”
She rolls over, chuckling but giving me a conflicted look. “I just love being cozy in bed with you.”
“We don’t have to get up right this second.” I pull her into my side, and she nuzzles against me. I run my hand over her smooth hair and unconsciously start twirling a lock. I love the weight of her head on my chest and the way she smells just slightly like my cologne.
Ultimately, it’s the scent of bacon that gets us up.
“Alright, Horny Hallmark, it’s your time to shine,” I tease her at the top of the steps.
We come downstairs to a bustling kitchen and apparently right on time.
Cash takes pancakes off the griddle and adds them to the spread of breakfast food already on the counter, while Reggie is pulling tamales out of a steaming pot.
She makes dozens every year with her family back home, and we’re the lucky beneficiaries of their hard work.
“You were spot on,” Ren says with an approving chuckle. “Everyone but Lochlan.”
Looking around, I see she’s right and, most notably, all the women, including Niamh, are wearing matching flannel pajamas. My stomach drops as I realize all the women except Ren. Fuck.
She doesn’t seem fazed, continuing on while I stand stock-still, rapidly trying to think of a way to include her. After a few steps, she stops and looks back at me in question, then laughs.
Grabbing my rigid arm, she tugs me forward. “I’m a big girl, Roman. My feelings aren’t hurt. I was so last minute anyway, so it probably wasn’t even possible to get me a set in time.”
“How did you know that’s what I was thinking?” I ask, impressed but not really surprised.
“I don’t know. I just did—”
“Ren!” Stella calls when she sees us and grabs a gift bag that is by her feet instead of under the tree. “I rush-ordered them as soon as I heard you were joining us. I wasn’t sure on sizing, so there’s two pairs in there.”
Ren holds her hand to her heart. “Oh my god, that is so thoughtful, thank you.” She takes the bag from Stella and says excitedly, “I’m going to put them on right now.”
“You better,” Reggie says, playfully pointing the tongs in her hand like a weapon.
While Ren practically skips to the powder room to change, I turn to Stella. “Thank you, truly.”
“Of course. Merry Christmas, Rom.” She pats me on the shoulder, then gives me a prying smile. “She’s special, isn’t she?”
“Yes.” My chest fills with warmth. “She is.”
Ren comes out and gives us a little spin, showing off the green and red plaid. Everyone cheers, and she takes an exaggerated bow. Yeah, she’s special. Most special thing that’s ever danced into my life. But so is this family. The Foxes love harder and fiercer than anyone I know.
“Are you kidding me?” Lochlan’s voice booms over the music and chatter. We all spin toward the sound. He’s standing shirtless in the threshold of the kitchen, his long hair pointing in all different directions. His sweats are slung low on his hips, showing a thin sliver of the world’s worst tattoo.
“Listen, I held it together when Reggie and Roan showed up in matching sweaters last night because he probably lost a bet or she threatened his life or something, but now this? Matching pajamas without me?” He looks at Stella, damn near heartbroken.
“How do you know I bought them?” she asks.
He holds his hand out toward Ren, and I automatically tense. Family or not, if he tries to imply she doesn’t deserve them over him . . . “Because you’re the only one with their shit together enough to get another set two days before Christmas.”
She smiles, sauntering up to him and laying her arms over his shoulders while he pouts. “Aww, Lochy baby, that’s so sweet.” The kitchen fills with laughter.
His moping lasts all of another two seconds. He kisses her cheek. “You’re just lucky you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole damn world.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you I hoarded all the crispiest bacon for you?” she asks, lowering her arms.
He slings his over her shoulders and pulls her tight to his side with a lopsided smirk. “Yes, yes, it would.”
As we all go back to our breakfast, I overhear Lochlan say, “But seriously, how is it that Roan gets to wear a matching Christmas sweater before me? I mean, c’mon, Roan? Roan?!”
Once we have all served ourselves, Cash gets our attention. “Alright, everyone, grab your plates and let’s open some presents.”
An hour later, the living room floor is littered with torn wrapping paper, but the view of the train tracks is no longer blocked by stacks of presents.
Like the dining room, the twelve of us are a tight squeeze in the small room.
Ren sits between my legs on the carpet. And Roan and Niamh, the two with the shortest hair, each have about three gift bows stuck to the tops of their heads.
We unwrap gifts one by one. So when Lochlan, who is tucked in the farthest corner by the tree to be able to hand them out, opens up a box, all eyes are on him.
He pulls out his very own set of matching pajamas and whoops, ecstatic.
He searches for a path out of the crowded room, then looks down at his body in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.
Uh-oh. I cover Ren’s eyes and, just as he’s pulling his drawstring, say, “Boy, you got another thing coming if you think you’re changing into those right here.”
His brothers jeer in agreement, and Stella just rolls her eyes with a laugh.
“Alright, alright.” Conceding, he sits back down.
Ren giggles as I uncover her eyes and asks him to pass her a smallish, square box from under the tree next. She scoots out from between my legs and spins around to face me, handing it to me.
“I know we said no presents, but it’s small, and I wanted to, and you’ll just have to get over it, okay?” She tries to give me a threatening look, but it devolves into a giddy smirk.
“Okay,” I agree, pulling on the ribbon with, I’m sure, a matching smirk forming on my face.
I carefully slide my finger under the tape so as not to tear the wrapping paper. Once I get down to the box and open it, my gaze immediately jumps to Alfie. “Did you tell her?” I ask him, shocked.
“Huh?” He shakes his head. Ren glances between us, confused.
I nod to Finn to pass me the gift I had him hide for me. He pulls it out from behind him, and I pass it to her. She looks like she’s about to say something, so I quickly insist, “Just open it.”
My lip quirks as she forces the ribbon off without bothering to untie it and rips the wrapping paper.
She throws the crinkle paper on the floor and pulls out a glass tumbler with lid and straw, turning it around to look at the front design.
“No way.” She laughs in disbelief. “But how? They don’t sell these in the winter.”
I flick my chin toward Alfie. “He’s got an in with the owners.”
“Pumpkin spice all year round, baby,” he says with a proud puff of his chest and wiggle of his eyebrows.
She nods, piecing it together. “So that’s why . . .”
“I thought he told you,” I finish, holding up the mug she gave me with the very same logo as the design on the tumbler.
June Bug Café.
Where it all started. Where I became a coffee person. Where I learned that some people order iced drinks no matter the weather. Where I left a newspaper, secretly hoping she’d turn it over.
Where I first saw the gorgeous blonde who decided she wanted to be bad, if only for one night.
1. Play "All I Want For Christmas Is You"—Michael Bublé until end of chapter