Page 47 of Take Me Home for Christmas

But the real stunner occurred when Emma came bursting into the kitchen in fuzzy-footed pj’s and reindeer antlers with bells on them, and a big picture book in her hands, which she brought right over to Brax.

I caught my breath. It was a book I knew well, an old, worn copy ofThe Night Before Christmas, with gorgeous illustrations of a family in Victorian times, Mama in her kerchief and Papa in his cap, the children sleeping in their beds with visions of sugarplums over their heads.

You know how everyone has their own idea of what Santa looks like? Well, the jolly, red-cheeked, twinkling-eyed Santa in this book was it for me.

Gracie and I used to beg our dad to read it every night, and he used to, over and over again, narrating the poem with flourishes and even putting on a red-and-white striped stocking cap just like the one the dad wears to bed in the book as he throws open the sash to discover Santa’s sleigh landing on the rooftop.

I placed a hand over my chest.Be still my heart.

Brax took a moment to examine the old book, to see exactly what he was dealing with. He glanced up briefly at me, but by then, I was pretty sure I’d managed to erase the flood of emotion from my eyes.

“This is my favorite Christmas story,” he said.

“Me too,” Emma said. “Read it, read it.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him into the family room to a chair by the fireplace.

He didn’t saylater, orI’m busy, orgo read it yourself. He let himself be led, sat down, and hoisted her onto his lap.

And then he read. Except it wasn’t the monotone, rapid reading of a bored adult, but a dramatic enacting of the story. He read that poem with so much excitement and inflection, even my mom stopped what she was doing. My dad joined us as we stood near the doorway, listening. Caleb, who’d basically rolled out of bed and walked downstairs shirtless, was also caught in the magic. Even though Liam tossed him a shirt and said, “Cover the pecs, okay? This isn’t a college dorm.”

Just then, Dina walked in, wrapped in a thick, fuzzy robe. Liam gathered her in front of him, wrapping his arms around her.

We were all mesmerized until Brax used his best Santa voice to ho-ho-ho and say, “Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

It was quite the performance. Over the top, wonderful. Even better, it showed me that Brax had so much to give, much more than he knew. I didn’t have time to overthink it, because just then, my entire nerdy family clapped and whooped.

“I feel a little upstaged,” my dad said quietly from where he stood next to me.

I rubbed his back and gave him a squeeze. “No one could ever upstage you, Daddy.”

“Read it again!” Emma cried, glancing up at Brax with Cindy Lou Who eyes. “Can we read it again, Uncle Brax?”

My mom swooped in with a cinnamon roll and a glass of milk for Emma, effectively rescuing him.

“We’ll read it again later,” he said, his gaze straying my way. “After we make the cookies.”

And that, Dear Reader, was the moment I lost my heart for good.

Chapter Fifteen

Brax

“So, this is the Kris Kringle market?” I looked around at the quaint row of Main Street buildings outlined with glowing lights, the shoppers buzzing with holiday cheer, the lampposts covered with garlands. It seemed as if the entire town was out doing their last-minute shopping. I felt a strange sense of anticipation watching the little kids tugging their parents toward Santa, who apparently was stationed in the middle of the bookstore.

Mia wore a bright yellow knit cap. Her cheeks were flushed in the cold, her eyes bright. Before I could think too much about it, I reached over and took her hand. A person had to start somewhere, right?

She glanced over in surprise. “You’re holding my hand,” she said. “And my family’s nowhere in sight.”

“It feels good,” I said.

She gave a lukewarm smile. Which made me worry a little, until I saw that she was focused on two women in the distance, walking down the street, their arms laden with shopping bags.

“Let’s try here,” she said quickly, pulling me into a Christmas store filled with decorated trees—as far as the eye could see—all different colors, shapes, and sizes, every bough laden with handmade ornaments. The tree nearest to us sat atop a table and was lit with white and blue lights and covered with sports-themed ornaments. More ornaments filled baskets underneath the trees.

“Who were those women you were looking at?” I asked.

“What women?” she said in response. Then she sighed. “Okay, fine. Old friends from high school.”

Hmm, seemed like her brothers were right. “So you’re avoiding people you know?” I asked. “Or are you worried that what’s-his-name is going to show up?”

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