Page 103 of Tinsel in Telluride

It’s an oxymoron, I know, but that’s the best way I can describe it. Logically, I know everything is still a clusterfuck, but at the same time, my heart and mind know I can’t keep hiding behind these walls.

Thankfully, I know Luca won’t let me. I just need to see if he’ll meet me halfway.

I hope he’ll meet me halfway.

When we enter the living room, my eyes stay glued on Zach. He stops in his tracks, his eyes going wide with wonder.

“Wooow,” he gasps with all the innocence of a child, and I wish I could bottle the moment and keep it forever to remember what the magic of Christmas looks like.

Zach takes off running, and I follow his movements across the room, stopping first at the stockings overflowing with tiny toys and presents, next to a giant play Range Rover that Luca insisted he needed. From there, he follows the Santa footprints to the tree, stepping in each of them as he goes. I can’t help but let my thoughts drift, knowing they’re Luca’s footprints—and if he grows up to have even half that man's heart, the world will be a better place. Finally, Zach turns and runs over to the couch, jumping into the space between Luca and Enzo. Bash and Holt sit on the opposite side of the sectional.

I didn’t even realize they were in the room, all of them sitting like silent statues as they watch my son.

Luca sweeps Zach into his arms and wishes him a Merry Christmas, which Zach excitedly returns before pulling away and greeting each one of his uncles in the same manner.

As he does, Luca stands and grabs a steaming mug from the coffee table and closes the space between us. Dressed in a navy blue robe over a pair of flannel pants, with scruff and unkept hair, he looks every bit the role of Dad on Christmas morning. He’s even got on fuzzy slippers to complete the ensemble.

My breath catches in my throat as he hands me the coffee, my fingers brushing his, and leans in to press a kiss to my forehead. I feel the ease of it course through my body all the way to my toes.

Cautiously, I pull back to search his eyes for any indication of where he’s at—where we’re at.

“Merry Christmas, Leigh.”

Leigh.

Not Little Thief.

There was a time he called me that out of anger. And then once I knew the true meaning, it was out of adoration. But my name? It lacks both, leaving me with nothing to go on.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper.

His lips curve up, a good sign we’re not about to have a fight and ruin Christmas morning. He takes a step back and extends his arm, offering for me to pass him and join the group.

“Now that the guest of honor is here”—his eyes dart to where Zach is snuggling in Enzo’s lap—“let’s get Christmas morning started.”

I clench my jaw to keep it from dropping.

That’s it?

That’s all I get?

No explanation. No fight. No demands.

Just a kiss on the forehead and we’re moving on?

“Leigh? Are you coming?” Luca’s voice pulls me back, and my eyes track to where he’s now sitting on the floor, playing Santa and handing everyone their stockings.

Dumbfounded as to what the hell is going on, I nod and pad across the short distance and sit across from him. Zach races from the couch to my lap and tears into the stocking Luca hands him, holding up each toy for me to examine and tossing aside the new toothbrush I made sure was in there for him.

“Just go with it,” Luca whispers. “There’ll be time to make sense of everything later.”

I nod silently, not because I don’t have anything to say—because trust me, there is so much I want to say to this man—but because I’m afraid if I speak, a sob will be the first thing that comes out.

Swallowing hard, I blink away my tears, watching as Zach finishes with his stocking and moves on to examining his new Range Rover.

It’s the first year he’s old enough to start getting into the excitement of Christmas morning and instead of fighting with me or demanding we figure things out, Luca is giving me—us—the gift of experiencing it without any of the weight of paternity, relationships, or what comes next.

Don’t get me wrong, I still feel it in every smile Luca gives me and the longing side glances he gives Zach when he thinks none of us are looking.

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