Page 27 of The Naughty List

“Care to join me?” he murmurs like it’s normal for us to just be waking up together and going through our routine as a couple. He wraps his arm around my waist, placing his hand on my belly as he plants several more kisses along my neck. My head lulls to the side and I forget I have a toothbrush hanging out of my mouth.

I snap back to reality when I start to choke on the minty toothpaste running down my throat, causing Damon to laugh. I spit it out, rinse, and turn around to smack his bare ass just as he jumps into the shower.

A moment later I’m naked and joining him and a few minutes after that, I’m crying out his name in orgasm.

* * *

“Oh my gaaaaawd!” I squeal as Damon and I careen down the sledding hill. I’m sitting in the front of the toboggan while Damon’s long legs jut out around me. He grips my waist, shouting at me to turn. I yank the rope, causing us to both fly off the sled to one side, landing in a tangled heap in the snow.

Tears stream down our faces as we laugh hysterically. This is the third time I’ve made us crash.

“That’s it, I’m driving from now on,” he says, standing and pulling me to my feet. I stand there in his arms. Our laughter dies down as we stare into each other’s eyes. He tilts his head and I mimic his movement, both leaning in as our lips touch.

“Get a room, you lovebirds!” Oliver shouts just as a snowball lands square on our faces.

“Oh, it’s on now!” Damon shouts as I step back and try to shake the snow from my hood. He picks up a handful of snow, compacting it into a ball before sending it hurtling at Oliver who dodges it and laughs.

After that, everyone gets in on the snowball fight. Kids and families we’ve never met have teamed up, creating walls and forts and talking strategy and formation. I haven’t laughed this hard in years. I sit back, watching as my family embraces Damon like he belongs, and for a brief moment, I believe it too.

* * *

“Merry Christmas!” my dad says, raising a glass.

“Merry Christmas!” we all repeat back with glasses raised.

Damon turns to me, clinking his glass of champagne against mine and whispering in my ear, “Merry Christmas, beautiful,” before leaning in, his soft lips landing on mine.

“So when do we get to start talking grandbabies, you two?” My mom interrupts our moment, bringing a very much-needed reality check to the moment.

“Mom!” I cough, instantly turning red. I glance over at Damon who looks… calm?

“I guess that depends on your daughter. I’ll leave it up to her.” He gives me a smile and a wink, reaching over to grab my hand.

What the fuck? This lie is getting a bit too out of hand.

“Well, with the eagerness”—my dad looks over his glasses at both of us—“of their activities, I’m surprised there isn’t one on the way already.”

Oh. My. God. I cover my face with my hands and sink down into my chair. My face is so red that I’m positive I’ll burst into flames at any moment. At least I won’t be around anymore to deal with this.

“And on that note, let’s open gifts,” my mother says, giving my dad a look that says I told you not to say anything. “Kate, you’re the elf this year.”

We bring our wine into the family room where my mother’s second Christmas tree sits. This is the one that’s decorated with ornaments from our childhood, Chicago Cubs and Bears ornaments and the one we get every year as a family.

When we were kids the presents were piled high and wide, spilling from beneath the tree. But as we’ve gotten older, the presents have become fewer but more meaningful. I pick them up one at a time, handing a few to Oliver and Erin first. I’m down to one small one left. I bend down and pick it up, opening the tag to see my name.

“Oh, who’s this from?” I ask as I spin around right into Damon’s arms.

“From me,” he says, kissing the top of my head. He grabs my hand and walks me over to the couch to sit beside him.

“Oh, Dennis, sweetheart.” My mom fans fake tears as she stares at the ruby bracelet my dad gave her. They play the same game every year—she sends my dad a list of things she wants; he picks a few, and she pretends to be surprised on Christmas Day. I’ve asked her before if she resents him for it because it’s not a surprise or thoughtful but she said it was her idea. After forty Christmases together, it starts to get repetitive and not as much fun to try and surprise each other.

“Open yours, sweetie,” my mom says as I clutch the small box in my lap.

I pull the red ribbon off the box and slowly pull off the thick gold wrapping paper. It feels like a shame to destroy such beautiful packaging. I glance at Damon, offering him a shy smile as I lift the lid and see the beautiful Thalia and Melpomene masks in crystal.

“Oh my God, it’s beautiful,” I say as I pull it out of the box. The ornament has a red ribbon through a small hole on the top. “Thank you,” I say to Damon who’s smiling at me.

“When I saw it, I immediately thought of you.”

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