Page 100 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

“Yet. Can’t understandyet.” Trevor sighs. “Anyway, you ready?”

I look at our son. He’s got big, brown eyes like his daddy and the curly hair to match. “You ready for your first family Christmas, Blaze?”

He places a chubby hand against my mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say before pretending to gnaw on his hand. The cuteness aggression is so real.

We head downstairs, and I can’t help but feel the presence of our memories as we pass each room. The dining room where we hosted our first family dinner, the living room where Blaze was born in a birthing pool, the kitchen where we got the call thatCode Redwas being picked up for worldwide distribution, all those things collide as we leave for our first Christmas together as Hawthorns.

The Chicago cold sweeps around us as we step outside. I pull Blaze tighter in my arms, smooching his little nose.

From next door, Oliver, Rose, and Rowan are already making their way down the stairs.

“Merry Christmas!” I call out.

Rose waves her hand at us. “Merry Christmas!”

I grin ear to ear.

She’s gotten so big over the past year, and I love living next door and getting to witness all of it.

Oliver, Rowan, Trevor, and I are our own offshoot of the Hawthorn family. We have keys to each other’s places, pop over to borrow things all the time, have dinner together most nights.

“Is my godbaby enjoying his first Christmas?” Rowan calls out as we exit the gates of our houses and meet up on the sidewalk.

Her hands go to Blaze while mine go to the swell under her coat. “How are you feeling?”

“I can’t believe how big I already am.” Rowan rolls her eyes, putting her hand on mine. “Six months with Rose was completely different.”

We found out Rowan was pregnant when Trevor and I returned from our baby moon when I was seven months pregnant. I was already excited to raise our children together but then to find out Rowan and Oliver were going to have one even closer in age to Blaze had me over the moon.

We pile into our cars and head up to the Hawthorn homestead where celebration is already well underway.

The car ride is far too long for my anticipation.

Christmas carols play on the radio, underscored now and again from a coo from Blaze in the backseat. Each time he fusses, I lean back to check on him.

He’s such a happy baby, so chill, at least as far as babies go. And yet, I can’t help it. The mom instinct isstrongjust like everyone promised it would be.

“Baby’s first Christmas,” I say with a warm look at Trevor. “Can you believe it?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not at all.”

He looks more mature now that he’s a dad, but it’s not a bad thing whatsoever.

Sleep is a luxury these days, which means there’s darkness under his eyes. Other than that, though, it’s not that he’s gone wrinkly or gray. It’s that now he’s a father, he carries himself with a gravitas I never noticed when we were Trevor and Iris. Now that we’re three, we move through life with much more responsibility.

A responsibility that’s the best thing that ever happened to us.

I take his hand and hold it the rest of the way.

When we arrive at the Hawthorns, we are hit with the signature, familial warmth. The feeling that made us want to be as close to them as possible.

The house smells like cinnamon and pine, just like it does every year. But this time, it's different. I can feel the warmth of the fire, the hum of chatter, laughter of children, the clinking of glasses, but my whole world is wrapped up in my arms, snuggled tight against my chest.

Our little boy, rosy-cheeked and bundled in the softest red sweater I could find, lets out a rumbling attempt at a laugh.

It’s a siren’s call for everyone to come greet us in the front hall.

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