Page 155 of The Renegade Billionaire
“Right, thanks.”
As quietly as I can, I slip away from Madison. We unzipped our sleeping bags and made a bed out of them, so after I stand, I take care to tuck her back in.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods. “She likes the lights.” Cian is staring at his daughter in a way that only a dad can.
I pat him on the shoulder and tiptoe through the house, then as quietly as I can, I start pulling presents out from the closet and filling the stockings.
“You’re shitting me,” Cian mutters. I hadn’t realized he followed me over here.
I grin at him. “Santa has to come.”
“Keela too? Mate, she can’t even hold a pacifier on her own.”
“Everyone,” I whisper. “Now go away before you wake everyone up.”
“Too late,” Elle says, coming closer, then stopping to kiss Keela’s cheek. “You’re not the only Santa in town though.” From behind the tree, she carefully drags out a large garbage bag full of gifts.
“I like your style, Elle O’Brien.”
“Same, Braxton, same.”
We work side by side with Cian supervising, and an hour later, all the gifts are laid out and arranged by Elle to create a picture-perfect scene.
“Thank you,” she whispers when we’re walking back to where everyone sleeps. “For including us all. It means a lot to us to see her this happy.”
I’m choked up by her words, so I simply nod, then sneak back under the blankets next to Madison.
She is my home.
The giftsthat took me for-fucking-ever to wrap are spread all throughout the room with wrapping paper in every shade littering the floor.
Clover walks around with a garbage bag, collecting the trash, while Cian and Grey roll up the mats to make way for the folding table and chairs we borrowed from town hall.
“Today was perfect, thank you.” Madison lifts up to her tiptoes, and I lean over to meet her lips.
She’s so damn sweet.
“I’m going to help Savvy in the kitchen.” She tries to pull away, but I catch her by the hand.
“Give me five minutes?”
She arches a brow. “For what?”
“Not that,” I laugh. “Five minutes is not nearly enough time for that. Come outside with me.”
“Five minutes, that’s it. It’s not fair to leave Savvy with all the work.”
“Don’t worry about Savvy. Grey is heading in there next to work on the lamb, and the turkey’s already in the oven.”
“Grey is what I’m worried about,” she mutters. And I don’t blame her.
Grey has lost his damn mind—especially around Savvy. He announced this morning that he’s started the search for a surrogate. As soon as this holiday is over, I need to talk some sense into him.
“Five minutes.” I take her hand, grabbing a folded blanket by the door, and we slip outside. It’s in the low sixties, but the breeze causes a chill as I lead her to the new porch swing.
Once we’re seated and the blanket’s tucked around her, nerves settle in. My palms are sweaty, and I’m fidgeting as though I’ve been rolling around in poison oak.
