Page 40 of Sweet Poison

I nod with a smile. “Yup. They’re so cute, Dad and they wave at you, too.”

My mom bursts out laughing. “Santa in a speedo? That’s adorable! Giant, I think we should get one of those to put next to the tree!”

“You two and this damn holiday,” he grumbles, sounding like a big grump.

“Oh, hush. You love it,” Mom whispers, beaming at him.

Dad instantly melts, poking her nose before giving her a quick peck on her lips. “I love you.”

Mom sighs dreamily, then turns her gaze to me. “And our Willow girl.”

“Always our Willow girl.” Dad adds.

God, I love my parents.

“I love you both,” I whisper back.

“Show us more, baby!” Mom says.

“Look at those seashells, Mom. They’re so shiny.” I reply, twirling to show off the small, glittering seashells hanging from the palm trees. “Oh, and look at the snowmen made out of sand wearing Christmas hats— I think they’re my favorite out of all the quirky decorations.”

Mom gasps, “At the beach? Are they really putting up sandmen?”

I pan the camera over to where a cheerful sandman, complete with a Santa hat and sunglasses, standing proudly with a smile made out of tiny seashells. “Yes! The kids on the beach have built multiple sandmen and decorated them with Christmas scarves. It’s adorable!”

It really is. While most people wait all year for snow to build snowmen and have snowball fights, these kids won’t get to do that during Christmas week. Instead of feeling sad about it, they’ve embraced the sand and made the most of their holiday spirit.

Dad chuckles in the background, his voice muffled yet clearly entertained. “How’s the weather over there? It looks like you’re in the middle of a heatwave. Maybe you should come home…”

“Stop it, Riagan,” Mom gently chastises him, her voice low as if I couldn't hear her.

I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow, laughing. “I’m fine, Dad,” I say, smiling wider as I see him visibly melt. “And it’s scorching, but it’s worth it. I really love this country. Look at this—they’ve even set up a Christmas tree made entirely of seashells on the beach.”

I pan the camera over to the beach, where the sea sparkles under the hot Brazilian sun. A massive tree, adorned with shells and starfish, stands proudly by the water’s edge. The scene is surreal, a perfect blend of sand, sea, and holiday magic.

My dad shakes his head in amazement. “It truly looks beautiful. Kind of cool that they’ve gone all out like that for the holidays. Never seen something quite like it, my girl.”

I nod. “It’s just magical here, Dad.”

My dad’s eyes soften. “I’m glad you’re having a nice time, baby girl.” Then he leans in, as if looking for something on the screen. “Hold on,” he says, sounding more serious now. “Where is your Uncle Cianne?”

I pause to think for an answer that won’t get uncle in trouble with dad.

“Oh, um... Uncle Cianne isn’t here.”

Dad’s expression darkens a bit, the concern in his voice clear. “And where, might I ask, is he?”

“He, uh, had a bit of a late night,” I reply, my tone amused. “He was drinking and having fun with one of the Santa inflatables.” I raise my hand to stop him from responding. “But before you get mad… Uncle was drinking responsibly in the comfort of our suite.”

Dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Santa inflatables? What the fuc?—”

“Yeah,” I cut in quickly, trying to keep the tone light. “He got so into it that the poor guy looked like he’d been through a marathon this morning. I tried to wake him up for breakfast, but he was out cold. I ended up turning off his alarm and letting him sleep in.”

Mom’s eyes widen in surprise. “I guess your crazy uncle is really making the most of the holiday spirit,” she laughs, trying to brighten Dad’s sudden shift in mood.

Dad shakes his head, though there’s a hint of a smile on his lips now. “You should’ve thrown a bucket of ice on the asshole, Willow. I don’t like that you’re unprotected.”

I brush it off, convinced I’m safe here. No one here knows my family—or at least, I hope they don’t.

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