Page 109 of Holiday Star
Even though they still live in Japan, Mom and Seth used his vacation time to come home and host Christmas here. Mom said they still felt guilty for leaving me on my own last year.
I had reminded her that I was never alone because I had Caleb and Jenny.
From where I sit in the living room, my eyes catch on the painting that hangs on the wall above them. It’s one of mine, the portrait I did of Pip. The rest had all sold at the gallery show I had last month, but I kept this particular piece to give to Mom and Seth as an early Christmas gift.
They had loved it, with Mom acting like I had painted the Mona Lisa.
“You know,” she told me, “Seth was an art major in college.”
My head had whipped to him. “You were?”
“Yep.” He laughed at my disbelief. “I love art. Back in the day, I did some drawing and painting, just like you.” A little shyly he said, “Maybe we could paint together sometime.”
Out of the window, I watch Brandon toss a football with Teddy. Liv, the twins, and Jenny are in the pool, enjoying how the sun has warmed the water.
Jenny catches my eye through the window and waves enthusiastically. Things are back to normal between us. She cheers me up, drags me to torturous workout classes, and hugs too hard.
I love it.
I may not have all the answers in life, but I understand some people are worth fighting for, even through the difficult times. Jenny’s not perfect. I’m not perfect either, but we’re perfect together.
The sliding glass door squeaks open, drawing my attention. There he is, Caleb Freaking Lawson, walking straight to me with Pip trotting at his heels. His mouth quirks, a tender curl of a smile, when our eyes meet. He comes over and kisses my temple. As always, his touch is electric, sending a thrill of desire out to every corner of my body. I turn and wrap my arms around him, resting my cheek on his chest. We stay like that for a moment, locked in an embrace.
He pulls back to look down at me. “Thanks again for the stocking.” His long fingers gesture to the mantle, where an extra stocking has been hung this year. One that has his name on it. I had surprised him with it last night, just in time for Santa to fill it with gifts.
“I remember you told me once that you didn’t own a stocking, so I had to fix that. Besides, you need one so Santa can tell you if you’ve been naughty or nice.” I glance around to make sure no one is looking and lower my voice, transforming it into a sexy purr. Rising onto my toes, I whisper in his ear, “I personally think you’ve been very, very naughty.” Gently, I give his earlobe a tiny nip with my teeth and am pleased to hear the soft groan he gives back in response.
With heat in his eyes, Caleb huskily whispers, “Remind me to give you a special Christmas present later when we’re in our room together.Alone.”
“Hmm,” I deliberately sigh into his ear and watch goosebumps break like a wave over his skin. “Promises. Promises.”
“A promise I intend to keep,” he says hotly.
Mom rises from the kitchen table. “Time to decorate the tree.” She claps her hands together with excitement.
Caleb and I jump apart, as guilty as teenagers caught sneaking home after curfew. We look at each other and burst into laughter.
Mom lifts her eyebrow, wondering why we’re laughing like hyenas, but after a minute she shrugs and walks past us. She leans out the sliding glass door to tell the rest of the family to come back inside.
There’s a flurry of activity as wet swimsuits get exchanged for dry clothing, and Pip runs around barking. Soon, everyone gathers in the living room.
“Thanks again for waiting to decorate the tree,” Brandon says to Mom. His flight had been delayed yesterday, not getting in until past midnight.
“There was no way we would do it without the girls.” Mom puts her hand on top of Maddie’s head and tousles her granddaughter’s blonde curls. “We know how much they enjoy it.”
Seth and Caleb carry in the cardboard boxes that contain all our decorations. At least they’re better organized now since I’m the one who put them away last year. Back when it was just Caleb and me sharing this space. I almost don’t recognize the house without the sound of hammering.
We unpack the ornaments, tinsel, and garland. The twins laugh while they run in circles around the tree, letting the garland flow through their hands as they wind it from top to bottom.
Sipping hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows, we hang ornaments on the tree one by one. The twins place them in a random pattern, mostly clustered on the front, leaving the back of the tree bare. Mom’s expression is strained. I can tell she’s having a hard time stopping herself from rearranging everything, so it’s more evenly spread out.
I pick up a round ornament that contains a small picture and hold it to the light. “Girls,” I call to the twins, “Look at this.” They come to stand by my side, peering at the photo in my hand. It’s them, their infant faces chubby and tiny fists clenched.
“We had this made when you were just one-year-old. I have a similar one, but mine is heart-shaped.” The twins gasp at the thought of it. That they were once little babies and that I was, too. They fight with each other over the ornament, each girl wanting to place it on the tree.
I sit down to take it all in. The magic of this day. Carefully, I memorize the chiming laughter of my nieces, the softness of my mother’s sweater, the gleam in Caleb’s eyes as he watches me from across the room.
My gaze lands on a present leaned up against the wall next to the tree, a decidedly guitar-shaped gift. The tag reads:
