Page 143 of Butterfly Effect

Some sip hot toddies and nod at us in mutual recognition, stopping Wade to chat. A couple of his nieces and nephews fish marshmallows from their hot cocoa. Indi stretches out on a couch where Delaney, Landon’s sister, massages her feet. A fire flickers in the fireplace next to a twelve-foot tree.

Landon unexpectedly pushes her off the cushion and jumps into her spot. “Get lost, Laney. This is my job.”

His sister rolls her eyes. “Cool it, caveman. I’m not looking to ‘steal yo girl’ or anything.”

Landon scowls at his sister, then melts to kiss Indi’s feet. “I’m sorry, she’s a beast.”

“I think we both know who the beast is?—”

“Laney…” a woman’s voice warns. I can’t tell if it came from his mom or grandmother.

Indi and I make eye contact. She waves me over. “Don’t mind them. Come hang out.”

Wade doesn’t let go of his clasp on my hand, and I snap back like a boomerang.

“Let go,” I say through a chuckle and make a second attempt with the same outcome. “Cut it out.”

“Need my kiss first.” His gaze floats to the frame of the opening above us. Mine tracks after, ending on the mistletoe.

My jaw sidewinds, tongue poking through my cheek at the smartass, but let him cup my face with his free hand and pull me towards his bowed, gleeful mouth.

“Haven’t you had enough?” I whisper against his lips.

“Of you? Never.”

We giggle through the playful smooch, keeping it clean for the sake of the children. Our audience cheers and applauses.

“You’re the worst kind of trouble,” he groans, fluttering those thick, dark lashes.

“Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t mind getting into you again and again.”

“You’re such a turd.” My open palm lands on his shoulder as his childlike grin widens. “Now unhand me, you brute.”

Sometimes, I forget that in big families, there’s almost no privacy. I sit down next to my friend but am being touched by at least three other women. One sandwiches me to Indi, and two on the back of the couch continue a conversation over us.

One of the smallest kiddos rubs their eyes and whines. Delaney goes over to collect her and leads her up the stairs amidst whines of wanting to stay up until Santa comes.

Indi seems to understand my growing panic. “I know. It’s a lot.” Her hand rests on my arm. “You get used to it.”

“You fit right in.”

“I do, don’t I?” Her eyes go round and glossy, hand on my arm returning to its spot on the swell of her lower belly. “Who would have thought?”

As much as I love the smart-mouthed, snippy Indi, this Indi is so joyful, so comfortable. So herself.

“D’oh!” I facepalm. “I didn’t get you a Christmas present.”

“Whocares?” Indi inflects. “You being here is what matters.” She extends her arms for a hug, and I give it to her.

“Your boobs are getting so big,” I say in her ear.

“It’s a sweaty curse I wish upon no one. This is probably what Bea feels like 24/7. Poor thing. She’s struggling so hard right now. I miss her and won’t see her until…” She pauses, her eyes brightening with a thought. “Would you make garden-themed cupcakes for the baby shower in March?”

“Um, duh.”

“Oh, thank God. Anjali Davé is already in planning mode. We’re all suffering under her iron fist.”

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