Page 36 of Christmas in Kiwi Country

CULLEN: Case, good luck with that, son.

CULLEN: Hank, please don’t give my daughter a reason to kill you. You know we have people on hand to do that

OTTO: (laughing emoji)

OTTO: Cullen you crack me up

WAYLON: You know he’s not kidding right?

HANK: I know I’m just worried.

CULLEN: We all are but you have to trust her to know her body.

VINCENT: Yourmamahadtoshowmehowtorespondtothisdamnmessagejustcomeoverhere

SORREN: #goals

WAYLON: Oh my…

HANK: Yep on my way

OTTO: (gif of guy doubled over laughing)

CASE: Sorren did you just…

CASE: This is the best day ever

CULLEN: Gwen and I are heading out. Hank make my daughter those little quiche things she likes and tell her she’s pretty. The rest of you…

A barrageof emojis and gifs appear on the screen, but I silence them as I turn back to my girl with a grin on my face.

“Everything all right?”

“Hank sent a picture of the sonogram.” I tap the picture and hand the phone to her before continuing, “Otto invited himself on Sorren’s hypothetical vacation, Case has to break the news to his brother that that’s not happening, and apparently Vincent has never used a cell phone before.”

“So…nothing new then,” she says and I nod, my smile widening.

“Nothing new.”

21

GWEN

“Merry Christmas, Red,” Cullen murmurs into my hair, his front pressed against my back and his voice gravelly with sleep. The morning sun is barely flitting through the curtains, but he’s been restless all night.

“Merry Christmas, Cullen,” I say as I lift our joined hands and press a kiss to his knuckles.

We’d had the most incredible Christmas Eve celebration on the beach the night before. The pohutukawa trees with their vibrant red flowers lined the beach where the staff had set up an elaborate dinner. It had been as beautiful as it was delicious with fresh fish and various meats on the barbeque, fruit, and some of the most delicious salads I’ve ever had. We had pavlova for dessert, and I didn’t even miss the bread pudding from back home.

Well, barely.

Between the music, which was a mix of classic Christmas carols and traditional New Zealand songs, the food, scenery, and the company, I’d been on cloud nine. Cullen and I laughed and talked about everything—dreams and aspirations, our favorite parts of the trip so far, and what we’re missing from home.

He’d made love to me late into the night, and despite his tossing and turning, we’d still woken up wrapped around each other.

“I got you something,” he says quietly as he rolls over and pulls a small box from the nightstand and hands it to me.

“We weren’t supposed to do gifts,” I chastise, knowing full well that I have a present for him in the closet.

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