Page 19 of Christmas With The Kings
“Honestly, Mum, you wrapped this like it’s Fort Knox,” he grumbled.
She smacked his hand lightly with a candy cane. “Maybe if you boys didn’t store it like a pack of feral wolves, we wouldn’t be here untangling twenty or so years’ worth of laziness. These are from the last time the three of you dared to help me decorate.”
“Jesus, that was so long ago,” he muttered.
Martina stood to the side, taking a mini-break and sipping what was probably spiked cider from a thermos. She hummed along toBing Crosby, her eyes soft as she watched the three of us stumble over each other.
There was something in the air. And it wasn’t nostalgia. It was the quiet joy of doing somethingtogether. Not that we didn’t do shit together all the time because we certainly did. But this was different in every way.
I took a step back, wiping my hands on my jeans, and watched everything unfold. Little bells hung from the exposed beams, and it looked magical. Nik had moved on to some decorations above the mantle.
Ivan was kneeling on the ground helping mother. Martina joined in to help them position the tree. Light arguments erupted over angle and light placement.
“Bit to the left,” Martina said.
Ivan groaned. “If I move it anymore, I’m going to fall into the bloody fireplace.”
Mother rolled her eyes. “Oh hush. You bench press cars. Move the bloody tree to the left so I can fix these lights.”
I chuckled and kept my distance, soaking it all in. The plan had come together better than I’d hoped. Each of us had something special in mind to spoil her. One day and one night alone at the cottage. No phones. No distractions. She and I alone. The way it should be.
There wasn’t any worry that any of us would choose the same thing. We were different in every way when it came to pleasing her. In my heart, I knew my brothers would plan equal parts cottage time and an actual outing. I had other plans. Keeping things simple. We were staying in.
I wanted her completely to myself. I didn’t want to share her with a single soul. I wanted time to talk to her, to hold her, uninterrupted. That was my gift. I stood in the doorway, hands on my hips, watching the way the lights played against the walls and garland-wrapped beams.
It didn’t feel like a cottage anymore. It felt like home. We’d help Kinsley create new memories. If she liked our cottage getaway well enough, we’d make it a yearly thing. She deserved the world, and if I could give it to her, I would.
“Looks good,” Nik said, grabbing the lid of one of the storage containers. “Think she’ll cry?”
“Bet you money she does,” Ivan said, chucking an ornament hook into the bin. “Extra if she criesandyells.”
“Oh, she’ll yell. You can bet your asses she will. Loudly,” I said, puffing my chest.
“Yeah, well, don’t wear her completely out. Make sure she drinks plenty of water and uses the bathroom. Bathe her, and for the love of God, don’t forget the Patchouli. I swear, you and the big lug are forever chafing my baby girl’s inner thighs,” Nik grumbled as if I had zero idea how to take care of her.
“Fuck off. I know her better than you.”
“Boys…” Mum exclaimed. “No fighting.”
With hugs and kisses from her and Martina, the fuckers finally fucked off. Checking my watch, I realized I had just enough time to get ready. I showered, changed, and let the music play low in the background. Bing had given way to Ella Fitzgerald now. Something soft, velvet-smooth.
Then I waited. And when the hinge creaked, and the door pushed open—my heart kicked.
“Hello,” she called out nervously.
“In here,” I answered.
She looked like a fucking dream. A short cream satin robe hugged her curves, barely skimming the tops of her thighs. Slippers on her feet, legs bare and toned, and the tie cinched tight like a bow begging to be undone.
Her hair was twisted up, with a few loose strands framing her face—but her neck. Damn. Her neck was exposed, delicate and pale, exactly the way I liked it. Exactly the way Ineededit. I leaned against the doorframe and let myself take her in like a man starved.
She didn’t see me at first. Her wide eyes flicked around the cottage—darting from the glowing tree to the garlands strung with fairy lights, to all the little touches. Candles. Velvet ribbons. The flicker of firelight warmed the space. It was soft and, hopefully, screamed romantic.
Her lips parted on a breath. A hand lifted to her chest. That breathless look—it energized me. The awe on her face. The kind of wonder she probably hadn’t let herself believe in these past few days. It made me want to punch the air in victory.
She hadn’t seen this coming. I knew that immediately. And I knew without question I’d done it right. The tension in her shoulders melted, and I could almost see the weight falling off her back in invisible layers.
This was what I wanted.
