Page 18 of Merry Mayhem
“We've got lights outside! And in here, too. And you did the snowflakes. And the presents?”
I hug him, releasing a deep breath when his arms wrap around and squeeze me tight. Everything feels right. Cooke gives me a smile when I look over at him, and I can almost hear him saying, “I told you so,” in my head.
As Gavin releases me, he looks between us, searching as if he can sense something has changed.
“Can we make cookies? And I want to take my snowflakes to my customers. They'll be like thank you notes and Christmas cards all at the same time.”
I nod. “We can do all that.”
We set to work, the three of us, and Gavin keeps laughing as we get out the ingredients we need.
“What's so funny?” I ask.
“We're teaching Cooke to cook cookies.” He breaks out in laughter again, and then Cooke and I join him. It is pretty funny.
“I'm happy to learn,” Cooke adds once we've all calmed down.
The afternoon speeds by, filled with the smell of warm Christmas cookies, carols playing on the radio, and Gavin making his thank you snowflakes. We share the first batch of cookies as they come out of the oven, barely allowing them time to cool, and then pile into Cooke's car and go with Gavin to deliver his snowflakes to everyone.
The sun sets as we return to the house. It looks so different, approaching it with Christmas lights shining on the outside. It feels like an even happier home and that feeling only deepens as we gather in front of the tree. Gavin goes into his room and comes back with presents he wrapped in secret, carefully placing them under the tree.
We crowd onto the couch, passing a plate of cookies between us, and I can't help but smile as Gavin falls asleep sitting between us. It's proof to me that whatever this is, there's magic to it, and I close my eyes, relaxing into the warm comfort of time spent with these two people.
I drift off, my brother beside me, and the man I didn't expect to ever find watching over us.
22
COOKE
Wakingup on Christmas Day sitting up on a couch in the house of a woman I've really just met should feel weird. But it doesn't. It feels perfectly right. My chest goes tight as I look at Gretchen and Gavin, both of them sleeping peacefully under the blanket I settled over them in the night. This feeling. Like my world is complete in this moment. All the time and work I've spent fighting to get to a point in my life where I'd feel this satisfied, and this is how it finally happens?
I shake my head. My jaw is covered in stubble as I scratch at it. The rational part of me says I should get up and let them celebrate Christmas together. Gretchen invited me for dinner, but that doesn't mean I have to force my way into their celebration before then.
“Don't even think about leaving,” Gretchen whispers, and I look to see she's awake, watching me. She arches an eyebrow and reaches a hand out to me. “I can see your brain is working really hard right now. So I'll say it again. Stay. Spend Christmas with us.”
That feeling in my chest gets tighter, bigger, and it's hard to draw a deep breath.
“Okay,” I say, and I’m rewarded by her sleepy yet undoubtedly happy smile.
I take her hand in mine, leaning forward and brushing a kiss over her knuckles.
Gavin stirs then, and sits up, stretching his arms up over his head.
“It's Christmas.”
“It sure is,” says Gretchen, pointing him toward the tree. “No point in waiting, since we're all here.”
He cheers and dashes to the presents, pulling each one out carefully. He lifts up a square one wrapped in teddy bears with Santa hats on, and hands it to me. I stare down at it, seeing my name written in boyish script.
“It's from me.” Gavin's eyes are shining when I lift my gaze, and he's grinning. “Corey and I went shopping and I found this for you.”
I nod, grating out, “Thank you.” I clear my throat of the emotion clogging it. I try again, “Thank you, Gavin. Really.”
“You're welcome.”
Gavin gets into full gift mode then, handing presents to me and his sister, leaving a small group for himself.
“Ready. Set. Go!” he finally crows, and then we all start tearing into our gifts at the same time. Laughter fills the air, and I have a sudden thought of what this tradition will be like when there's a full house of children and grandchildren. That's when it hits me. What Merritt's been trying to tell me.
