Page 231 of Wild Then Wed
I elbow him, but he just smiles and I can feel myself softening all over again.
Mom appears in the doorway, holding a wooden spoon and wearing her apron that saysDon’t Go Bacon My Heart.Her hair is up, a little flour on her cheek.
“Oh, good, you’re here! Take your boots off and come stir the gravy,” she says, already turning back to the kitchen.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Mom,” I call after her.
She turns quickly, blinking like she just realized who walked in. “Oh! Sorry, honey. Merry Christmas!” She bustles back toward me, her apron already smeared with something light brown and sticky. “I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off all day.”
She wraps me in a big, cinnamon-scented hug, kisses my cheek, and does the same to Sawyer, who looks slightly startled but recovers quickly.
I gesture toward Ridge. “You’ve seen his sweater, right?”
Mom exhales. “Unfortunately.”
I try to stifle my laugh, but it escapes in a half-snort. “And?”
She gives me a look. “What am I supposed to do with him at this point? Lord knows I tried to raise him into a decent human being. He just—” She shrugs helplessly. “Pivoted.”
Across the room, Hank and Elvis are locked in a slow, suspicious sniffing ritual that looks like a cross between a showdown and a blind date. After a few tense minutes, Hank lets out a small huff, and Elvis sits.
“Merry Christmas, Wren!”
I turn just in time to catch Hudson barreling toward me, all limbs and excitement. He throws his arms around me in a hug that nearly knocks me off balance.
“Hey, kid,” I say, hugging him back. “You’re getting tall.”
When he grins, he flashes a mouth full of shiny blue braces.
I raise my eyebrows. “Those are new. I like them, that’s a cool color.”
He smirks. “Thanks. I hate them.”
Lark walks in behind him, one hand resting on the curve of her belly. “You’ll be grateful when your teeth don’t look like a picket fence, Hud.”
Hudson rolls his eyes.
She’s wearing a bright red sweater that says “Merry & Pregnant” across the front in sparkly green letters, with a cartoon elf mid-waddle and jingle bells stitched around the sleeves that chime. It’s loud and ridiculous and very Lark, and somehow she still manages to look effortlessly pretty in it.
“Merry Christmas,” Lark says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Sawyer.”
Sawyer nods and returns the greeting, just as Boone strolls in behind her, both twins tucked under his arms like he’s carrying sacks of potatoes. His sweater says“Sleigh All Day”in glittery block letters and features a buff, shirtless Santa flexing next to a barbell.
“Merry Christmas,” he says, slightly breathless. “I’d hug you, but—” he shrugs toward the toddlers.
I glance down at the wiggling twins and nod. “You’ve got your hands full.”
I turn back to Lark, eyes flicking to her bump. “Speaking of…do you know what you’re having yet?”
She grins and nods. “A girl.”
I let out a squeal and pull her into a gentle hug. “That’s amazing!”
“Congratulations,” Sawyer says beside me, warm and genuine.
“We’re excited,” she says. “Terrified. But excited.”
“Do you have a name picked out yet?”
