Page 22 of Her Christmas Lumberjack

When the kids have finished opening all their presents, they rush toward us, and we hold them tight.

“Thank you, Mommy! Thank you, Daddy!” Millie says.

“And thank you, Santa!” Elijah adds.

I grin at him. “You’ll have to write Santa a thank you card. We’ll mail it to the North Pole.”

“Awesome!”

Nolan gets up off the couch and ruffles the kids’ hair before he heads to the kitchen and brings back one last present, loosely wrapped.

“There’s one more gift waiting for a very special someone,” he says, crouching down. “Rudolph! Come here, boy.”

At the sound of his name, he bounds forward, panting excitedly. Nolan sets his present down and Rudolph tears it open with his teeth to reveal a squeaky dog toy in the shape of a reindeer. He sniffs it, then takes it in his mouth, chomping on it eagerly.

“Merry Christmas, buddy,” Nolan says.

The kids throw their arms around Rudolph, petting him affectionately. “Merry Christmas, Rudolph!”

After we rescued our sweet border collie all those years ago, we took him straight to the vet once the roads were clear. He had no chip, and he was undernourished after his time as a stray, but we fed him up and now he’s happy and healthy.

“Right, who wants to watch a Christmas movie before we go see Uncle Declan?” I ask.

“Can we watch Elf?” Elijah says.

“Yeah, Elf!” Millie chimes in.

“Elf it is.”

I turn on the movie and the kids sit glued to the TV as Nolan and I head to the kitchen where the radio is playing festive songs. There’s no cooking to do this year—we’re having dinner at Declan and Margot’s. It’s our family tradition; we swap each year and I love our big family Christmases together. But out of everybody, I think Nolan loves Christmas the most. Losing his dad was a huge blow for him, but now that he’s had more time to process his grief, he’s full of holiday spirit every year. Nothing makes him happier than bringing a smile to our faces on Christmas, and the kids have helped him fall back in love with the farm. They’re enjoying the same kind of childhood that Nolan and Declan had—long afternoons spent running through the trees and skating on the lake. He’s an amazing dad, and the best husband a woman could ask for.

“How are you feeling, sugar?” he asks, reaching for a chocolate from the box on the side. “Having a good Christmas?”

“Always.”

He smiles at me, resting his hands on my waist, eyes molten as he says, “You’re so damn beautiful, Aurora. How’d I get so lucky?”

After all these years, Nolan still knows how to take my breath away. Age only makes him sexier, more rugged, and I wrap my arms around his neck as he leans in to kiss me. He tastes like chocolate, and his beard scratches my chin, making me shiver. As his tongue glides into my mouth, the song on the radio changes, and Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

The familiar verses make me smile against Nolan’s lips, and I pull back to look at him.

Our song.

We sway to the music, holding each other close as the kids laugh at Elf in the living room, their voices making my heart squeeze. Nolan and the kids are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. My perfect family.

“I love you, Aurora,” my husband says, cupping my cheek as the song ends.

“I love you too.”

He’s about to kiss me again when our son’s voice calls to us, “Mom! Dad! Come watch! Buddy is going to New York City!”

We grin at each other. “Coming!”

I grab the box of chocolates off the counter, about to carry them into the living room, when Nolan stops me, his arm tightening around my waist.

---