Page 84 of Surrender

“Huh!” she yells back with a giggle.

“Want to help decorate a Christmas tree?”

The whites of her wide eyes are clear from across the room. “A real Christmas tree?” She plants her palms flat on the table and shoves. Her chair scrapes across the floor, and she runs clear across the room before Jack can answer.

“Your mom and I can’t hang all the pretty ornaments ourselves.”

“I can help! I can do it!” Lucy bounces on her tippy-toes.

“You take a look through the boxes with your mom. Find which one you want to hang up first.” Jack looks at me. “Can I get you anything while I’m up?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Jack disappears into the bedroom.

Lucy kneels beside me on the floor as I lift the lids off the three bins. An assortment of baubles and ornaments are nestled carefully between crumpled sheets of bubble wrap and newspapers. Traditional colored spheres in silvers, golds, reds, and greens. Dated ornaments. I carefully pull out a glass one in the shape of a house, the wordsour first homeinscribed on the bottom. I flip it over, and my breath catches in my throat at the words written in permanent marker.

Jack’s first Powell Christmas 2001.

It isn’t a secret he was informally adopted into the family. All the Powell kids were. Back in high school Corjan shared some of his upbringing over a bonfire and beers, but I have no idea what circumstances led to Jack and Jude joining the family.

As my heart clenches, it strikes me how much I want to know.

Suddenly, the task is all the more daunting as the sentimental value of these priceless ornaments skyrockets.

“Be very careful, Lucy,” I admonish. “Wait for Jack before you touch anything.”

A happy squeal precedes the man into the room. My pulse takes off at a gallop, and my eyes blow wide at the sight before me.

Jack Powell is hot. It’s an indisputable fact.

Jack Powell wearing my baby against his chest in a hands-free carrier makes my legs so weak I’m glad I’m already sitting down. Three attempts later, I finally unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Where did you get that?” I croak.

“I picked it up the same day I got the car seats.”

Bennett’s fingers wrap around Jack’s pinky. He bounces their hands.

“Thought it might be useful if you have another night when he’s crying and just wants to be held.”

None the wiser to my inner disquietude and the fact I could really use a glass of wine or a shot of tequila, Jack crosses the room. “Find one you like, Lucy?”

“Dis one.” She jabs her index finger at a silver bauble.

“Go ahead and pick it up. You can put the first one on the tree.”

She snatches up the silver sphere and bounds to her feet. “Watch, Momma!”

“I’m watching, Peanut.”

She surveys the tree with a seriousness beyond her years. Seeming to settle on the perfect spot, she stretches on her toes and secures the thin wire around a branch.

“Another?” She tilts her head, eyes on Jack.

“Have at it, kiddo. We have to hang all of them.”

Her eyes light, and she races back to the bin.

Jack busies himself with the Christmas spirit and begins selecting his own ornaments to hang. Bennett swings his feet happily. As they near the tree again, Bennett latches onto a branch in front of his face and tugs. The seven-foot tree rocks in its base. With a warm chuckle, Jack untwists Bennett’s fingers and hands him a bauble to hold instead.

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