Page 63 of An Undisputed Christmas
"Actually, yeah," I corrected, pride warming my voice. “He and the girls were messing around in the kitchen with recipes.”
"Takes after your lady, then,” Dad observed, settling into one of theoversized leather armchairs with the air of a king claiming his throne. "Now then, what other Santa duties require my attention?"
The transition was seamless. From vulnerable father to Christmas Eve Santa without missing a beat. It was pure Wade Easton, the ability to command any situation while making everyone around him feel like they were exactly where they belonged.
"Well," Connor started, pulling out his phone and reading something, "I've got the final presents in the garage.”
"I've got the Santa pen,” Adrian announced, producing an elegant fountain pen from somewhere in his ridiculous sweater. "Looks appropriately magical."
"And I'm in charge of making sure everything looks perfect for when the kids wake up," I finished. "Which includes placement of presents, proper cookie consumption evidence, and making sure that the thank you note gets positioned where Leo will find it first thing."
Dad's smile turned particularly satisfied, like a general reviewing battle plans that were guaranteed to succeed. “Who’d have thought my eldest son would be such a good father?”
“The best,” I confirmed. “After you.”
We worked in comfortable silence after that. Connor slipped out to retrieve the final gifts, and Adrian carefully arranged Santa’s gifts under the tree, hisartisticeye ensuring maximum Christmas morning impact while maintaining the illusion that Santa had done it all.
Dad composed his thank-you note in elegant script that looked like it had been written by someone who definitely had magical origins, and I made sure the milk glass had the appropriate amount drunk from it with realistic cookie crumbs on the table.
The room looked perfect when we were done—magical, warm, and exactly like Christmas morning should be. The tree lights created pools of gold and silver throughout the space, and the presents were arranged in artful abundance beneath the branches.
Dad spoke quietly as we all stood back to admire our handiwork, his voice soft with emotion. “Before you, I used to think Christmas was just another obligation. Something to get through with the appropriateamount of effort and expense, a box to check on the calendar of social expectations."
"What changed?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
He looked around the room, at the evidence of our unconventional family, at the love that had built this moment brick by brick, and his smile was the warmest I'd ever seen.
"You did," he answered simply. "All of you and my Jovie. You made me remember what family actually means. Not just duty, responsibility, or carrying on a name, but love. Belonging. The knowledge that you'd do anything to protect the people who matter most."
Adrian, never one to let a serious moment pass without comment, cleared his throat dramatically. "Are we having a feelings moment? Because I need to prepare myself emotionally. Maybe light some candles. Put on some music. Really set the mood for masculine vulnerability."
"Shut it, you festive disaster," Dad said with such obvious affection that it made my chest tight.
Then he pulled all three of us into an embrace that somehow managed to include everyone without being awkward, his arms strong and warm and utterly secure.
"Merry Christmas, boys," he said quietly, and his voice carried years of love and pride.
"Merry Christmas, Dad," we replied in unison.
We finally began to make our way toward our respective rooms, and I took one last glance at the perfect Christmas scene we'd created.
The house felt different, peaceful, wrapped in contentment that only came on Christmas Eve when everything was exactly as it should be.
Our bedroom door was slightly ajar, and I slipped inside to find the most perfect gift waiting for me. Estelle was curled up in the center of our king-sized bed, fast asleep.
She wore the matching Christmas pajamas I'd gotten us—soft red pants and shirts. Her hair was spread across the white pillows, and in the dim light from the bedside lamp she'd left on for me, she looked ethereal.
I moved quietly around the room, shrugging out of my clothes and pulling on my own set of matching pajamas. The fabric was soft, expensive in that way that most people couldn't appreciate, but all I cared about was how warm and comfortable it would be when I wrapped myself around the woman in my bed.
As I lifted the covers and slid in beside her, Estelle stirred, rolling toward my warmth. Her body curved against mine perfectly, like she'd been crafted to fit only in my arms.
"Jax?" she murmured sleepily, her voice soft and slightly husky from sleep. "Is everything okay? Did Santa come?"
Her concern was adorable. Even half-asleep, she was worried about making sure Leo and Avery's Christmas would be perfect. But she had me now.
"Everything's perfect, princess,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead as I pulled her closer. “Santa definitely came. Dad handled it like the professional grandfather he is, and the kids are going to lose their minds tomorrow."
She relaxed against me with a contented sigh, her hand finding my chest and splaying across the soft cotton of my shirt. "Good. I was worried Leo might wake up and see us moving presents around.”
