Page 99 of Never Sleigh Never
“Oh, she’s definitely under the tree by now, shaking every box like a detective in training.” His hand slides beneath the blanket, tracing up my thigh under the oversized Boston College shirt I borrowed last night. I wasn’t ready to push my luck by sleeping in his bed naked like he requested. Instead, I borrowed—stole—one of his old shirts.
A knock interrupts us. “Daddy, can we open presents now?”
I meet Logan’s gaze, biting back a smile. He shrugs. “Or… standing outside the door.” He calls to her, “Five minutes, Peanut. We’ll be right there.”
“Okay!” The patter of little feet thunders down the stairs.
“We’re on a timer and what I want to do to you will take more than five minutes, so we better not keep her waiting.” He nuzzles my neck.
I giggle. “I can settle for a raincheck.” I run my fingers across the stubble on his cheek. Being here with Logan is surreal. If someone had told me two months ago I’d be lying in bed next to him, I would have asked if he was hogtied with Christmas lights because that’s the only way we would be this close. But we’ve come a long way. Eighteen years is a long time, but there isn’t anyone else I’d rather spend Christmas with.
He brushes his lips against mine. Too quick. Too tempting. Then he swings out of bed in nothing but red boxer briefs, muscles flexing as he pulls on the Rudolph onesie from last night. Somehow, the man manages to make polyester antlers look indecently hot.
“You’re staring,” he teases.
“Bold of you to assume I could stop.” I wink.
He tosses me my Santa-and-reindeer pajama set. “Tradition.”
As we stroll downstairs, Josie’s waiting by the Christmas tree with a present barricade surrounding her like a fortress fit for a princess. For the next twenty minutes, we watch in delight as she tears into all her presents, her excitement growing with each one.
Her joy is infectious. She’s been through so much, and yet she’s here—laughing, squealing, happy. My chest aches with the realization that I get to be part of this.
Then Logan points under the tree. “Looks like there’s one more. Josie, can you grab it?”
She dives under the branches, emerging with a snowflake-patterned box. “To Brie. From Santa.”
My heart skips. “Logan, you didn’t have to?—”
“Not me.” He grins. “Santa.”
I shake my head but take the box, pulse racing as I peel back the paper. Inside is a red and silver scarf, soft as silk. I wrap it around my neck, letting it drape over my chest. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He leans in, voice low. “Don’t thank me. Thank Santa. My present comes later.” The dimple flashes with his smirk.
Heat curls in my stomach. “You didn’t need to get me anything.”
“Oh, trust me. You’ll enjoy this one too.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re really making me feel like I failed at Christmas.”
His eyes soften, voice gentle. “You being here is more than enough.”
We tidy the living room, then head into the kitchen to make breakfast.
I offer to make snowman pancakes. Since, there’s a plethora of fresh fruit in the fridge, I cut the strawberries to use as a scarf and blueberries for the buttons and eyes. Josie helps by making whipped cream top hats.
It’s messy and chaotic and perfect. Between the laughter and the sugar high, it feels like I’ve belonged in this kitchen for years.
Logan glances at Josie. “Hey, Grandpa’s coming to pick you up in thirty minutes so you can open presents with them too. Go get dressed.”
“Are you coming?” she asks.
“We’ll be over shortly.”
“Okay!” She bounds up the stairs, leaving us in the warm, syrup-scented kitchen.
After John picks up Josie, the house is suddenly quiet. Just us.
