Page 122 of Sweet Poison

I crack open my eyes, still feeling tired, just as I hear a chorus of sweet and adorable giggles—a sound so pure and full of joy it can only mean one thing.

My sunshine boys are up.

“Wake up! Mommy! Daddy! Wake up!” The excitement in their voices is infectious, their words bubbling with the kind of anticipation only Christmas morning can bring. Reaching for my cochlear implant, I put it on so I don’t miss a single word. I never want to miss anything my perfect boys say to me, or my husband.

The weight of two small bodies launches onto the bed, their excited squeals filling our bedroom like music. Sticky kissesbombard my cheeks, little lips pressing against my skin with giggles that feel like warm sunshine on a cold morning.

Oh, how beautiful this life of mine…

“Mommy! Daddy! Santa Claus came!” Maverick’s voice rings out, high-pitched and full of wonder. “He came with lots of presents!”

I open my eyes wide, blinking against the soft morning light, to see my Irish twin boys —Maverick and Wade — whose tousled hair sticking up in all directions like wild little hedgehogs. They’re a blur of red and white pajamas, matching Madden and me, their beautiful faces glowing with the magic of Christmas.

Their eyes sparkle like stars, and the joy radiating from them is as infectious as the holiday itself. I love seeing them— Madden and our mini-mes. Maverick is all me, with blue eyes that shine bright every time he smiles and curly brown hair. Wade, on the other hand, is a mini version of his father, with black hair and deep, beautiful dark eyes.

What sounds like a grown man whining comes from next to me on the bed.

I turn to Madden, who is still buried under the covers, a soft chuckle escaping him as he tries to shield himself from his sons’ attack. “They’re like little monsters,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep, though his smile unmistakable. “Go to bed. It’s still too early. We open presents at nine.”

Nine? No way.

“Nonsense!” I reply, pulling myself up into a sitting position and gathering my boys into my arms. The moment I hug them, their giggles explode in the air, their tiny bodies squirming with excitement. “Santa came! How exciting! I bet he ate all the waffles we left them.” I use my voice with my boys even though their father decided they should learn sign language too.

I no longer hide my voice because Madden’s love gave me the confidence I needed to be myself in a world where differencesshould be celebrated. Madden helped me realize that my voice is beautiful simply because it’s a part of who I am, and if someone has a problem with it, that’s their issue, not mine.

My mother was also a huge influence. She may not fit society’s idea of perfection, but to me, she is everything. If she can stand proud in the world without hiding who she is, then so can I.

“Can we go see the tree?” Maverick begs, his eyes wide with anticipation, his little hands reaching out to play with a curl of mine.

“Please, Mommy!” Wade chimes in, bouncing on the bed like a ball of energy, unable to contain his excitement for another second.

I glance at the clock—far too early for most people, but we’re not most people, I feel no trace of exhaustion. Christmas morning has a way of making everything feel timeless, like a dream that stretches out forever and my family deserves all the magic. “Of course, we can! Come on! The presents are waiting!”

With that, the boys scramble off the bed, their little feet pitter-pattering on the floor as they race to the door, nearly tripping over each other as they laugh out loud. I laugh softly, shaking my head as I slip on my fluffy slippers and follow them into the living room.

Madden isn’t far behind, yawning and looking grumpy as he emerges from beneath the covers.

“Next year, we’re paying to have the presents put together and wrapped. That shit gets exhausting every year,” he grumbles.

“Oh, hush,” I tease, rolling my eyes. “You say the same thing every year, and yet you always end up doing everything yourself.”

“This year, I mean it,” he says, his tone more serious but still laced with exhaustion.

“Just like you meant it last year?” I raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look.

Before I can say anything else, Madden suddenly runs up behind me, pulling me into his arms and showering my face with kisses. “What happened to my sweet, shy wife?” he teases. “Who is this sassy minx?”

I laugh, squirming in his arms. “She’s still here, but she’s learned a thing or two about keeping you on your toes, Mr. Hunt.”

He laughs before kissing me softly and robbing me of air. When he pulls back and breaks the kiss, one of our boys squeals in delight. “No way!”

Both Madden and I turn and the sight that greets us is nothing short of magical—a scene straight out of a storybook. Our Christmas tree stands tall in the corner, its twinkling lights dancing like stars against the darkened room. Ornaments, each one chosen by every member of this family, sparkle from every branch. Beneath it, a mountain of brightly wrapped presents sit in a perfect array, their colorful paper shimmering under the soft glow of the multi-colored lights. The scent of fresh pine fills the air, mingling with the warmth of our home and the sweet promise of holiday magic and wonder.

“Go crazy, boys!” I urge my sons forward.

“Wow!” Maverick gasps, his voice filled with awe as he and Wade run toward the tree, practically pulling me along in their wake. “So many presents!”

“Look at all the gifts!” My baby, Wade exclaims, his eyes wide as he points to the colorful packages. “Santa really came!”

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