Page 2 of Season of Gifts

Jay swept in behind her and expertly matched sleeves to arms.As he settled the snuggly fleece robe over her shoulders, Henry tugged the sash into place and tied a neat bow.He did the same for Jay, who’d draped his own robe over his shoulders without bothering to close it.Smoothing necklines, Henry held a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth while Jay fidgeted in place.

“All right, my dears.”Henry linked his arm with Alice’s; Jay moved in front of them, walking backward as Henry walked forward, his eyes shining and his feet practically prancing.“Down to the breakfast table—mind you don’t injure yourself getting there.”

With a whoop, Jay dashed out the door.

“You may look,” Henry called after him, “but don’t touch.”

The exaggeratedawwthat filtered back to them knocked Alice’s laugh loose.Her escort paused long enough for her to add slippers to her ensemble before they too headed downstairs.“How long was he waiting?”

“No more than twenty minutes.”Henry eyed her sideways, scanning head to toe and back again.“If you’d slept much longer, I would have authorized contingencies.”

Now that would have been a way to wake up.“I could pretend—”

He tapped her nose and chuckled.“Another day, dearest.We’ll have a lifetime of them.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Jay stood before the table, his hands flat on the surface, his body bent forward—a perfect pose for receiving a flogging.But no flogger lay in front of him; his look-but-don’t-touch gaze rested on a festive basket with a ribbon and garland adorning the top and Christmas plaid fabric spilling over the side.Maybe Henry had made pastries for breakfast.Delicious, flaky, buttery pastries.Alice’s stomach growled.

Something off-white protruded from the basket.No, a row of somethings.She shifted closer, and Jay made space, bouncing on his feet.Postcard-size envelopes filled the basket in a tidy row, slanting backward, with a flowing swirl forming the number 1 in black ink on the front of the first.Very Henry.The linen-white paper matched the notes he’d left on her apartment door all those months ago, inviting her into their circle.

Henry smoothed her hair, draping it across her shoulders.“Do you know what your surprise is, or shall I tell you?”

She studied the décor and the neatly scripted number, quickly estimated the number of envelopes—and today was December—

“It’s an Advent calendar!”Jay spun in place and teasingly walked his fingers toward the basket.“Do we get treats?Every day?All month?”

Henry wrapped his arms around Jay, locking him in a bear hug from behind.“You shall receive surprises, yes, for the both of you, and you’ll alternate days opening the envelopes to reveal them.”

The calendar was a brilliant distraction.He’d done it for Jay, no question, to spread out the fun of the holiday season and help ease the ache of not going “home” for Christmas for the first time in his life.They’d all but promised Henry’s mother at the wedding reception that the three of them would be with her for the holiday, and she’d radiated so much joy that it had been like staring at the sun.

Jay was saying something about how a surprise with twenty-four surprises in it might be even better than wishing for more wishes.“Because these ones come true.”

She’d had an Advent calendar before.It hung right beside her little sister’s, with Mom’s stitching and their names in quilt patches above pockets with felt numbers.She’d tried to lift Ollie to reach the pockets for them both once—had she been five then?Six at the most—and Daddy had laughed as he’d scooped them each under an arm and hoisted them skyward.Leaning into her husbands, she tried to keep the unexpected melancholy from choking her voice.“Thank you, Henry.It’s a beautiful gift.”

Henry slipped an arm free and curled her in tighter, stroking her back as he delivered a kiss to her temple.“Would you care to be odds or evens, Alice?”

As if she would ever choose to go first, given Jay’s barely contained enthusiasm.Besides which, she understood math.“It’s the same total either way.We’ll each get”—a giggle escaped as she recognized what she was about to say and the likely result—“twelve days of Christmas gifts from you.”

Jay hummed the tune.

“It’s only fitting,” Henry murmured.“You are my true loves.”

Her heart thumped in echoing agreement.

“However.”Henry’s teasing tone came with a raised finger and a delightfully stern stare.“The song can keep its over-fondness for avians.We’ll have no swans, no geese, no French hens and the like.”

Well that was a relief.Knowing Henry, the gifts would be unbearably romantic or achingly beautiful or sweetly sentimental.

Jay dropped his humming into an exaggerated sigh.“But I was sooo looking forward to learning French from the hens.”

“You want to learn French, do you?”Henry spread his hand against Jay’s cheek and turned him for a kiss.Lips surged; tongues rolled.Her husbands spoke exceptionally fluent French with no words at all.

Jay moaned his pleasure, and as they parted, with no more than an eye twitch from Henry, both men descended on her neck.Nipping and sucking, they soothed with their tongues.She might have matching bruises later.Her nipples tightened, brushing the inside of her robe.She opened her mouth for air and Henry claimed it, backing off only when she whimpered and tried to chase him.

He rubbed his thumb across her lips.“That will do for a first lesson.Alice?Your decision?”

Decision.Yes.She was deciding—the calendar.Right.“Jay can go first.I’ll be evens.”

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