Page 23 of Reindeer in the Headlights
On the way home, with the kittens passed out in the back seat, I told Ambrose I’d never felt accepted by my own family, but this evening had shown me family didn’t have to be one of birth.
“It was the best Christmas gift I could have asked for.”
14
AMBROSE
It was Christmas morning, and we’d blocked out the entire day just for us. It had been my mate’s idea, and the best idea ever.
The house was decorated to the extent that we could with the kittens. I had a French toast bake that was ready to go in the oven. Dinner was all prepped and ready to just be cooked. The packages were wrapped. The afternoon movie picked out. The firewood brought in. We didn’t need to so much as leave the house, which was good, because once again, the snow was falling.
It was a record winter, and it had only just begun, but I couldn’t even be mad at it. If it weren’t for all the snow, I wouldn’t have met my mate and started this beautiful life together.
I was worried about Wyndham, though. Yesterday, he’d gone to the doctor for his ankle and said that everything was fine. On the outside, it looked fine. There was no swelling, and the bruising was pretty much gone. He was walking normally, but… and it was a big but, he wasn’t acting like everything was fine.
Wyndham was acting like he was hiding something. I hinted around about it, but didn’t go further than that. Accusing your mate of being suspicious or lying after a doctor’s appointment wasn’t a way to keep the lines of communication open. But I was second-guessing that now.
I’d offered to go with him, but he said he had some shopping to do afterward. Being Christmastime, I left it at that, assuming it was to get presents for our spoiled little kitties. In hindsight, I wished I’d gone with him, because something definitely happened at that appointment, and I wanted to be there for him.
I’d woken up first, thanks to Tinsel thinking that my forehead was a pillow. I waited to make sure that my mate was still sound asleep before sliding out of bed and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower. He was still asleep when I came back out. I turned on the oven for the French toast bake and ate a cookie… because cookies… while the coffee brewed.
The kittens were circling my feet. “You little beggars, you already think it’s time for food.”
Their soft mews were adorable. I had a feeling that once they got older and they became full-on meows, they’d be less so. But for now, I enjoyed them and meowed right back. I grabbed a can of their food—a special one for newly weaned kittens that was supposed to be gentler on their stomachs, according to the vet. They didn’t love it but were getting used to it, no longer leaving any in their bowl.
They batted at my ankles with their tiny paws as I brought the bowls down to the floor and set them on their eating mat. “You two need to be more patient. We will always feed you.” Not to mention that they had a self-feeder with kibble that the vet suggested they could eat whenever they wanted. But as much asthey preferred the formula I used to make for them, anything seemed to be preferable to their kibble. They’d eat it, but only when they were really, really hungry. The fur babies were high-maintenance.
I flicked on the lights for the Christmas tree and the ones around the window and the door. We had a lot of Christmas lights strung around, and every time I saw more at the store this year, I picked them up.
One thing about living with Wyndham, I was definitely getting out and about more. All that time, I thought I’d just liked to be alone and be away, but really, I’d just been lonely. That was my odd way of handling it. He joked that he was becoming more like me, wanting to be home all the time, so maybe we were meeting each other in the middle.
I went into the closet, took out the Christmas presents I’d picked up, and set them under the tree. We’d tried to put them under earlier, but the kittens thought they were theirs to open.
“Now, you be good. Those are for your daddy, and he doesn’t need claw marks in them.” They didn’t listen until I bribed them with treats. Whatever it took.
It was hours later when I first heard my mate stir and put in the French toast bake. He came out ten minutes later.
“It smells so good in here.” He came out, all sleepy and adorable. “Why are you up so early?”
“It’s not so early. It’s eleven, omega mine.”
“Eleven?”
I nodded.
“Oh gods, I guess I was tired. Let me clean up a bit. We can eat.”
“No rush. It’s Christmas, and it isn’t as if my belly isn’t full of cookies. Besides, if you can’t sleep in on Christmas, when can you?”
“You tell that to anyone who has kids.” He had a point.
One day we’d be here with a family of our own, getting up at the crack of dawn because they were eager to see what Santa got them. At least, that was how I imagined it. We’d talked about kids a few times, and we both wanted them. Obviously, they were a ways away, but it was nice to know we were on the same page.
I took the casserole out and set it on the counter and grabbed his coffee mug.
“Oh, no coffee for me today,” he said as he picked up the spatula to get out some breakfast.
His hair was still damp, and he had his Christmas jams on. He looked so good I wanted to take him back to bed, but not to sleep. But also… he was a tad green.
