Page 65 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
“Shit. I was joking.”
“Oh, there’s no joking about the strict schedule of a Ross Christmas. And it doesn’t matter how big the family is, how many grandchildren are added to the mix, the day is set in stone and cannot be moved.”
“We wake up sharply at eight-thirty in the morning. Which is fine as adults, but setting an alarm as a child, knowing that when it went off you could leave your room was…something. But that’s because no one is allowed to go into the family room until my mother gives the go-ahead. You know, to make sure everything is perfect for the family picture.”
“Nothing like a forced family photo to show how happy everyone is.”
“Exactly,” she says with a laugh. “Wait. If you’re taking a perfect family photo, does that mean you…dress up?”
He laughs. “Oh yes. Tie and all. How else are we supposed to show up to the formal breakfast?”
Kat’s eyes about pop out of her head. “Back the fuck up. You're telling me that as a child, knowing that Santa came last night and there were presents about, that you had to get fully dressed in uncomfortable clothes and eat a multi-course breakfast before you could open presents?”
“And no one could leave until everyone was done. Which was the worst when my brother was going through a phase where he refused to eat eggs. In all my years, I don't think a single present has been opened before ten.”
“Wow,” Kat says in disbelief. “I know you and I are just getting started, but can I petition that we spend Christmas with my mother—or anywhere but Connecticut?”
He laughs. “You haven’t heard the worst of it. That formal breakfast is followed by presents, which takes hours because my grandmother is insistent we all open one at a time, and we also can’t have our phones out during the process. Oh and did I mention that it’s my entire family? Aunts, uncles, cousins, and their partners and kids? It takes forever. By the time we’re done and everyone is miserable, it’s time for lunch, which is a respectable spread of sandwiches and appetizers, before the family photo, and then dinner to be served promptly at six p.m.”
“Where do the cookies fit in?” Kat asks. “Cookies are an important part of Christmas, and the fact that you haven’t mentioned them yet worries me.”
He shakes his head, and my jaw drops.
“Are you telling me that you are a cookie-less family?”
“The only ones we ever saw were the ones we left for Santa.”
“That's... I don't even know what to say. It's just wrong.”
“That’s a Ross Christmas for you.”
“Well that’s not how you’re spending this year,” I say, sitting up off the bed. “Put your pajamas on.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You want me to get out of bed to put on my sleeping clothes?”
“Exactly.” I move closer so I can straddle him, figuring that my boobs in his face will make him agree with my idea. “We’re going to go downstairs and eat breakfast. If you order one egg, you’re doing this wrong. Today is about carbs and sugar. And I have on good authority that they are serving cinnamon rolls, waffles, and pancakes with nothing healthy on the side.”
“And we’re doing this in our pajamas?”
“Exactly. And then when we’re done, we’re going to go into the kitchen and steal every last Christmas cookie there is.”
“Is there any protein in today’s diet?”
“Not a lick. Because when we get back to the room, our day is going to consist of Christmas movies, cookies, naps, and sex.”
Grayson's smile can't be contained. “A day of nothing but cookies and sex?”
“And naps.”
“Of course.”
“How does that sound for our first Christmas together?”
His smile is as bright as any Christmas tree lights. “Sounds like the best Christmas I've ever had.”
“How am I stuffed when all I had was empty calories and powdered sugar?”
I gently dab my mouth after swallowing my last bite of banana foster french toast. “It was those eggs that I gave in and let you eat. The protein messed up the balance.”
