Page 17 of Holly Jolly Rebel

Adeline sniffed. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.”

“You won’t be rushed. That’s okay. You’re a little like me in that respect.”

“Dad said that, too.”

I took my daughter’s cup of oat milk and popped it in the microwave. “I do have some news that might impact your decision to stick around the homestead, though.”

“Dad’s retiring?”

I raised an eyebrow. “No. Well, we’re not sure yet. I’d like him to play for as long as he’s able, but there’s something else that might affect our living situation. Yours, too.” I turned to my daughter’s expectant expression. “I’m pregnant.”

Adeline’s eyes flew wide. “Mom! Are you kidding?”

“Nope. I took a test and had a doctor’s visit yesterday. It’s happening.”

“Oh, wow.” She looked thoughtful. “Does Dad know? Because he didn’t breathe a word.”

“Of course he does. He’s over the moon, to be honest.”

“And you?” She placed a hand on my arm. “How do you feel?”

“A little bamboozled. I thought this was all behind me, and my first instinct was panic. But then I remembered—with the help of your father—that I’m a half-decent mom, sometimes, and maybe this could be … fun.”

“Fun?” Her concern was replaced with horror. “Is Dad forcing you to keep this baby?”

“Is Dadwhat?”

Cue the fireworks. Hatch stood at the entrance to the kitchen in his holiday PJs with an expression of consternation. Landonwas also on site, peeking his head around Hatch, and was soon followed by Conor, who pushed through and stared at Elle and Adeline.

“Did someone say ‘baby’?” He shifted his gaze to Adeline. “Is that why you’re dropping out of college? Makes sense, I suppose. Who’s the baby daddy?”

“It’s not Adeline, dumbass.” Hatch nudged him aside. “Mom, are you really pregnant?”

“I … am. And this was not how we wanted to share the news.” I turned to my daughter. “And your father is not forcing me to do anything. Any decision we make is joint, like always. Now, everyone needs to leave the kitchen so I can start on breakfast.”

“Mom, we can help.” Adeline moved in, her mouth screwed up in guilt at having let the cat out of the bag. “Let us pitch in.”

“Oh, plenty of time for that, sweetie. You’re gonna figure out diaper-changing real quick. Still want to hang around the homestead?” I squeezed her arm to let her know all was okay. “For now, I’d like to drink my coffee in peace and get the French toast bake started before the gift exchange.”

As Theo’s specialty, he usually made it, a reminder of the first meal he made me all those Christmas mornings ago. I looked up into the worried faces of my family, none of whom were vacating the kitchen as requested.

“Kids …”

“You heard your mom,” a deep voice rumbled.

My breath caught at the sight of my husband, who lookedsohandsome, wearing one of my favorite expressions because it was rare: Grumpy Theo. His semi-scowl couldn’t quite smooth out those laugh lines around his emerald green eyes or make his mouth form a grim seal, but I got it all the same. He was both irked and amused in equal measure, which was about as cranky as my guy could get.

The kids started up again with the whining—about how they deserved all the details (Hatch), how this affected them just as much (Conor), how they wereshocked, I tell you, shockedthat the parental units were still active in that area (Landon). Adeline took one look at me, another at her dad, and herded them all out to the living room to hang with Aurora, who no doubt was chuckling away at the hot water we’d landed ourselves in.

Theo closed the door to the kitchen and leaned against it.

“So that went well.”

I started to laugh because if I didn’t, I might cry. “You never told me you spoke to Adeline.”

“She wanted to tell you herself. How did it go?”

“Fine. Do you believe her when she says nothing happened?”

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