Page 70 of Afterglow

“Merry Christmas,” she says with a helpless shrug. “We don’t get to pick our own sweaters and—”

I know what’s coming when she grabs a present off the island wrapped with a big red bow and a tag with my name on it. Maybe this is my initiation into the family. Eric’s in one, so I take it as a good sign that I’m being offered one as well.

“Go on, open it,” Robert says. Looking at him makes me flush hotter, considering what his daughter’s sweater says. I mean, it’s no secret we had sex, but to have it so blatantly stated in vinyl is really something else.

I swallow and crick my neck side to side, like this is a battle and I’m determined to win. I will not back down from this challenge. Leanne’s hand finds my hip and I relax at the touch.

“Do you know what it says?” I ask out of the corner of my mouth, fingering the ribbon.

“Nope.” She blinks owlishly. “They wouldn’t let me see it.”

“Perfect,” I mutter. “Well, here goes nothing.”

I tear into the package and pull out an evergreen sweater the same color as Kimberly’s, only mine says I like big bumps and I cannot lie.

My lips twitch, but it’s the pattern around the words—lines of little sperm wearing Santa hats chasing eggs with red and green bows on their heads—that sends me over the edge. I try to hold the laughter back, but it barks out of me, and the rest of the room erupts as well. My nerves from before slip away.

This may be profoundly embarrassing, but they’re accepting me—inviting me in—and it feels damn good.

“Well…” Leanne deadpans, “that’s… really something. You better put it on. We can’t start the festivities until you do.”

I groan, but it’s half-hearted because a little extra embarrassment won’t keep me from taking part in this family’s traditions.

“Your wish is my command,” I say, handing Leanne the sweatshirt and reaching for the top button of my shirt, popping it free. Leanne’s eyes drop to the hollow of my throat, and I watch hers bob on a swallow. “Don’t get too excited.”

“Now hold on just a second,” Robert says, covering Kimberly’s eyes with his hands.

I chuckle and pop another button free, and then another, revealing the white T-shirt I have underneath. Leanne shoves my shoulder playfully, and her mom ducks out from under Robert’s hand. I love the flush on Leanne’s cheeks to match her sweater. I want to ghost my fingers over their warmth, but I continue my way down my torso and slip my shirt off my shoulders.

The room has gone oddly quiet. When I glance up, the whole family is locked in on our interaction. I clear my throat and quickly pull the sweatshirt over my head, beaming with a prideful smile before shooting a wink at Leanne.

Robert claps his hands loudly, garnering him the attention of the room. “I think I need a drink. Who wants one?”

The evening progresses with ease as the Koles welcome me into each of their traditions. It’s comfortable and feels right with them, so when Kimberly asks what a typical Christmas looks like for me—you know, minus the inappropriate sweaters—I don’t hesitate to give them the truth.

“I spent last night and this morning with the Davenports, who own Monarch Ranch,” I say, and Leanne offers me an encouraging smile, squeezing my knee from where she sits beside me on the couch. “They’re the only family I have. I don’t know if Leanne told you I was married before, but the Davenports are my late wife Sarah’s parents.”

Everyone offers solemn looks that tell me she already told them I’m a widower. Not wanting to go into too much detail or open that up for discussion, I share a bit more about myself than I probably would under normal circumstances.

“I was in foster care as a kid. My parents weren’t great people—they were actually some of the worst people—so I ended up with the Davenports when I was fifteen. I became the man I am in that house.” I look at Leanne and she slips her hand into mine. There’s a bubbling sensation under my sternum at her touch. “So… yeah, that’s my family history in a nutshell.”

“Well, we’re honored you’d choose to spend part of your day with us. I hope the Davenports don’t mind us stealing you,” Kimberly interjects.

“Oh, not at all. We had our big family dinner last night and our Christmas this morning.”

They invited Leanne. Delia even asked for Leanne’s number so she could extend the invite herself. I understood when she declined, explaining she had traditions with her family she didn’t want to miss, but I’m pretty sure there was more to it than that. Even with our dinner going so well a few weeks ago, I can understand how my family dynamic might be a bit more intimidating to jump into for her, so I won’t push. It will get easier. She’ll see how much we want her there. Because even with everything that happened with Sarah, all they have ever wanted was for me to be happy.

And I am… happier than I’ve been in a long time.

Now I want to make Leanne happy too.

The evening winds down around nine p.m. with a sleepy Leanne leaning against me on the couch, looking so beautiful my heart aches. I had a difficult time stopping myself from touching her throughout the night, but she didn’t once pull away whenever I lost the battle.

Leanne doesn’t have her car here since Jenna picked her up yesterday and she spent the night here last night—having a similar family sleepover to the one I had with the Davenports. So I offer to drive her home, letting my fingers linger a little too long on her waist when I help her into the truck, inhaling the contrasting scents of her lilac shampoo and peppermint from the candy canes when I buckle her in.

There’s a frenetic atmosphere in the cab of my truck when we pull up in front of her house. The tension of hours together, innocent touches, and the memory of the kiss from two weeks ago swirl around us in the warm air.

She reaches for the handle but turns back, saying in a rush, “Do you want to come in?”