Page 48 of Merry with a Brewmaster
“With hot chocolate?”
“Is there any other kind?” Vienna replies, brushing Haven’s hair off her forehead.
“And you’ll be here for Christmas?” she asks Vienna.
“And all the days after that.”
Haven launches herself at Vienna, hugging her tight as I pull my girls in and wrap my arms around them both and just soak in the moment.
Because this is all I’ve ever wanted, and they’re all I’ll ever need.
26
VIENNA
CHRISTMAS DAY
“You look surprisingly well rested for having slept on an air mattress in Haven’s room,” I say wryly as I hand Saige a cup of coffee which she accepts before sitting at the table. She could have had an actual bed, but Haven had given her the puppy dog eyes and Saige couldn’t turn down the sleepover. She’s also wearing our matching Santa pajamas which makes me absurdly happy when I see Wells in them.
“Compared to dealing with my new neighbor, it was basically a dream.”
“Band guy is still giving you a hard time?”
“He’s relentless, totally set on seeing how dark he can make these circles under my eyes.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Of course I’ve talked to him,” she hisses as I hide my smile behind my cup.
“Merry Christmas,” Wells says, walking into the kitchen and interrupting us before kissing me like he didn’t just kiss me five minutes ago.
“Merry Christmas,” I reply as I hand him a cup of coffee. “Now let’s go open presents because your daughter has been waiting patiently.”
“Daddy!” Haven yells as she comes sliding across the floor and crashing into her father at full speed.
“Oof, Merry Christmas, Haven.”
“Merry Christmas! Santa came and I’ve been waitingforeverfor you!”
Wells glances at the clock. It’s barely after seven.
“Forever, huh?”
She nods.
“All right, go into the living room and we’ll be right behind you,” Wells says as Haven grabs Saige’s hand and leads her down the hall.
“We do not have time for a quickie,” I hiss, half joking and half serious because the man ismotivatedwhen it comes to getting me off. It’s like that mishap on the couch was a personal affront and he’s vowed to make me come several times a day, every day.
Not that I’m complaining.
“Don’t tempt me, Siren,” he warns and I huff out a laugh.
“Literally the definition of a siren.”
“Anyway,” he says, pulling a thin box from the pocket of his sweatpants, “I wanted to give you this before the chaos of the morning.”
The blue velvet is soft in my hand as I lift the lid, my hand flying to my mouth as I stare down at the beautiful necklace.
