Page 69 of The Christmas Cookie Crush

Lydia’s is the most recent addition, and I spot it next to Dylan’s in the line of overflowing stockings leaning against the fireplace. They’re too heavy to hang from the mantle, where they’ve been since Mom decorated after Thanksgiving.

It’s a mismatched hodgepodge set. Mom and Dad’s match—standard red with white trim, their names stitched onto the cuff in red. Ty and Sarah’s coordinate with theirs, though they’re green and white with their names still stitched in red. But Dylan and I have totally different ones. Mom sewed ours, and they’re made from kits that she bought from the fabric store, so they have Christmas-themed prints with our names appliquéd instead of simple embroidery.

She’s made stockings for all the new additions as well, though theirs are generally simpler than mine and Dylan’s. The adults are all standard red, green, and white, though the prints vary. Sophie’s is the standout, and I’m assuming that’s because Mom let her pick the fabric. She has one made of dark purple trimmedin gold. It’s a stocking fit for royalty, which, considering the way my parents spoil her, that seems fitting.

Mom comes out a few minutes later, a warm smile on her face when she sees Sophie and me sitting on the floor. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mom.”

Sophie leaps up and wraps her arms around Mom. “Merry Christmas! Is everyone else up yet?”

Chuckling, Mom pats her back. “Not quite yet, but I’m sure they will be soon. Do you want to help me get breakfast started? That’ll make the other grownups less grumpy about being awake early on their day off.”

“It’s Christmas!” Sophie says, affronted, and follows Mom into the kitchen. “They’re not allowed to be grumpy!”

I trail behind them, wanting to be useful. And get some coffee. Because Mom’s right, it’s barely six, way early for a day off. Breakfast and coffee will make a world of difference.

The others slowly trickle out until Dad rouses the stragglers around seven. We all grab coffee or hot chocolate and one of the orange rolls Mom and Sophie made for breakfast and make our way to the living room, where we open presents and stockings, everyone oohing and ahhing over their gifts. It’d be fun regardless, but having a kid hopping around, watching everyone opening their presents, asking questions and generally being a ball of happiness makes the day that much better.

We all take leisurely turns in the showers—Mom and Dad let Sarah and me use their bathroom when they were finished so we didn’t have the seven of us all trying to use the other bathroom.Sarah knocks on my door while I’m finishing pulling on my socks—new ones that she got me, the siblings of her reindeer-having-sex socks. I laugh at them every year, so she found me ones with the same pattern in a slightly different color scheme.

She gives me a squinty-eyed look when she sees me putting them on. “You better wear your slippers over those.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “You got them for me. Maybe you should’ve thought of that if you didn’t want me to wear them in front of your kid.”

She grins and shakes her head. “I’m just saying. It was hard enough to keep her from paying attention while we were opening presents.”

I hold up my hands. “Don’t worry. I planned on wearing slippers anyway.”

“Good.”

She studies me for a moment, still leaning in the door with her arms crossed. So I make a big show of putting my slippers on, standing, and doing a little turn to show off my yoga pants and Christmas sweater combo—my Fair Isle one that I love. It’s warm and cozy and colorful without being too much. “Happy?”

That gets a chuckle from her. “Yes. Very. Thank you.”

When she still doesn’t move, I raise my eyebrows. “Is there something else you need?”

She takes a deep breath, blows out her cheeks, and holds it. Which has me a little worried. Sarah only does that blowing out her cheeks thing when she wants to have a serious conversation.

“Okay, I’m starting to get worried,” I say. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No.” She straightens, making a quelling gesture with her hands. “God, no. Everything’s fine. I just, uh. I was hoping to talk to you about something.”

“Okaaay.” But that doesn’t do anything to assuage my concern.

Laughing, she shakes her head. “I swear, it’s nothing bad. But come to my room. Let’s talk there.”

I follow her down the hall, taking a seat on her bed as she closes the door and running my hands down my thighs, still feeling nervous, like she’s going to spring something terrible on me. Sure,shedoesn’t think it’s bad. But that doesn’t necessarily meanIwon’t think it’s bad.

“Thanks again for having Sophie sleep in your room last night.” She shuffles some papers around on her desk. “She was so excited when you offered, and she’s talked about it nonstop today.”

Laughing, I cross my arms. “I’m not sure what she even has to talk about. She conked out right away.”

Sarah flashes me a smile. “Oh, good. The way she’s been going on, I was worried she kept you up past midnight and woke you up at five.”

“Nah. She went to sleep right away. I was up past midnight all on my own. And she woke me up at six.” I grin.

Sarah’s brows pinch. “What kept you up?” she asks softly, a folder in her hand.

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