Page 85 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

“Merry Christmas.” Big arms pull me closer and warm lips kiss up the side of my neck.

“Do you think Santa came last night?” I ask.

“Santa most definitely did not,” Eli grumps, snuggling us deeper into my bed.

I elbow him in the ribs and he grunts. “That isn’t what I meant. Get your head out of the gutter.”

“What? I’m not wrong. Santa was up half the night with a cock-blocking, fussy baby.” I can feel him smiling against my neck.

“I think she was just overly tired from last night and excited because she knew it was a special day today.”

After our big, emotional talk Eli and I brought over all the things we would need to the cabin for Christmas, then we spent Christmas Eve at his mom’s house with his sisters. It was overwhelming, loud, chaotic, fun, and filled my heart in a way that I never felt before. Holiday celebrations were always more somber for me and my dad, especially the ones since my mom died. He tried to make them special, but we both kind of had a silent agreement to just be together and appreciate each other. Today he will come over and spend time with me, and later we will bring grave blankets to the cemetery. It’s my least favorite tradition, but I know it’s important to him, so I put on a happy-ish face and go with him.

I roll and try to scoot away from Eli.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom and to brush my teeth,” I say reluctantly.

“Wait, give me a kiss.” Eli puckers his lips.

“No,” I laugh, “I need to brush my teeth first.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I do!” I manage to escape him, but he’s right behind me as I cross into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“Apparently we are brushing our teeth so I can kiss you good morning.” He squints in the bright bathroom light, looking for his toothbrush. I am wide awake and wide-eyed taking in every inch of his chiseled body in nothing but his tight black briefs. Had Wren not been fussy last night there is no chance I would have been able to resist him.

“Stop eye pucking me, sweet-eart,” Eli slurs through a mouthful of toothpaste, his eyes trailing over my guilty face in the mirror.

“I wasn’t!” I lie, face turning as red as Santa’s suit. I shove my own toothbrush in my mouth and ignore the wall of muscle next to me that’s now grinning with a sparkling, fresh smile.

As soon as I set my toothbrush down, rinse, and wipe my mouth, Eli is on me—scooping me up and putting me on the counter, kissing the hell out of me and pressing his hardening length into my needy center. I moan and he fists my hair. Wiggling to the edge of the counter, I wrap my legs around his perfect waist, and he kisses down my throat to the top of my breast, reaching to pull down my tank top and sending a bit of panic through me.

And then we hear Wren start to cry.

“Ughhhh.” Eli lets out a pained groan, rolling his head against my chest. “I love her with all my heart, but she has the worst timing.”

“It’s okay, we have lots of time.” He pulls back with a look of longing. “I promise,” I say, kissing him softly, pushing him off and looking down at the impressive tent happening in front of me.

“Don’t look at him like that! You aren’t helping,” Eli laughs and rushes out of the bathroom.

“This is for you, well I guess technically you and Wren, but more you right now.” I hand Eli the small wrapped box.

We are sitting in front of the Christmas tree in my living room on a blanket after feeding Wren and having our own breakfast of my nana’s cinnamon rolls, eggs, bacon, coffee, and too many stolen kisses to count. My heart and my stomach are overflowing.

“What is it?” Eli gently shakes the box, Wren propped up in his lap, slobbering on a toy baby weight, from Eli of course.

“Open it and see.” I smile at them and snap a picture with my phone.

He carefully unwraps the gift, tears filling his eyes when he sees the two small circular ornaments made of clay that Wren “helped” me make. Baby’s First Christmas is painted in script with the date on each one; her little hand is on one and her little foot is on the other. Impressions pressed into the clay, perfectly frozen in time, fired in my kiln.

“You made these?” Eli looks at me with awe, then back down at the ornaments.

“I had a tiny helper.” I reach out and hold Wren’s hand.

“These are perfect, you are perfect.” Eli leans in and kisses me tenderly.