Page 233 of Wild Then Wed
So I can’t be too mad. Just lightly traumatized.
Before I can say anything else, Lainey comes barreling out of the kitchen like a sugar-fueled elf on a mission. Her reindeer antlers are still on, though now they’re sideways, and she’s wearing mismatched socks.
“Wrenny!” she squeals, launching herself at my legs. “Up!”
I bend down and scoop her up, her arms winding tight around my neck. “Merry Christmas, Lainey Bug.”
She pulls back just enough to flash me a grin and shout, “Santa!”
I laugh. “Oh yeah? Were you naughty this year or nice?”
She stares me dead in the eye and lets out a tiny, maniacal laugh that tells me all I need to know.
Jack waddles in after her, slower and more focused, like he’s on a solo mission. Ridge scoops him up with one arm and flips him upside down, earning a loud giggle and an accidental kick to the shoulder.
Lainey wiggles out of my arms and climbs right into Sawyer’s lap like it’s her throne. He looks a little surprised, but then he settles, one arm gently steadying her.
“Well, hello there,” he says, his brows raised.
Lainey blinks at him, then waves. “Hi.”
“It’s Lainey, right?”
She nods solemnly, then turns and starts pointing across the room like a tiny tour guide. “Jack-Jack,” she says, pointing at her brother in Ridge’s arms. “Hudsy,” she adds, pointing to Hudson, who’s on the other side of Sawyer devouring a Christmas cookie.
Hudson leans in and tickles her side, making her squeal and collapse against Sawyer’s chest.
Sawyer chuckles, smoothing a hand down her back. “I think I’ve been adopted.”
“She doesn’t let just anyone into the inner circle,” I say, watching Lainey reach for the cookie in Hudson’s hand like it belongs to her now.
“Oh, I can tell,” Sawyer says with a chuckle. “She already runs this place.”
Lainey starts babbling—half words, half nonsense—something about “Santa” and “cookie” and “doggie,” her little hands waving as she talks. Sawyer nods along like he’s getting the full translation.
“Yeah,” he says seriously, “I totally feel the same way about cookies.”
She giggles and leans her head against his shoulder, totally content.
Suddenly, the front door opens and slams shut behind it.
“Ho ho ho, family!” a familiar voice calls out.
I don’t even have to turn my head. The click of her heels echoes through the hallway before Miller strides into the living room.
She’s in a fitted black turtleneck and a short red leather skirt, her heels tall and shiny enough to make me wince in empathy. Her dark hair is cut in a sleek, blunt line at her collarbone, glossy enough to reflect the tree lights. Her makeup is sharp, clean, and completely perfect—like she just stepped out of a holiday-themed Vogue spread and accidentally ended up in our living room instead.
Lainey squeals. “Millie!” She wiggles off Sawyer’s lap and makes a beeline straight for her.
Miller softens immediately, crouching just in time to catch Lainey in her arms and lift her up like she isn’t wearing six-inch heels.
But behind her—just a little behind her—a boy lingers. He looks about Hudson’s age, maybe a little older. Definitely quieter. His hair is dark like Miller’s, his eyes the same bright green, but he stays close to the doorway.
Lark looks up from the couch and freezes. “What thehell?!You were supposed to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, Miller.”
Miller scrunches her nose like Lark just suggested she wear Crocs. “DoIlook like someone who owns anything that would be considered ugly?”
Lark beams past her and goes straight for the boy, wrapping him in a gentle hug. “Hi, Joey. Merry Christmas.”
