Logan wraps an arm around my waist and leads me into the deep end of the Oliver pool where Emma, Barron, and Gage huddle with the boys. Crap. I’ll need a life preserver to survive this night, and Logan is proving to be more of a lead weight than abuoy.
“Skyla”—Barron dances his way over with his namesake in his arms—“dare I say you have the most well-behaved childrenhere.”
“I agree.” I press a gentle kiss over the back of baby Barron’s little warm head, and he nuzzles further into his grandfather’schest.
“You’re welcome to join us tomorrow if you like.” He extends the invitation with hopeful eyes, but I catch Emma twisting herlips.
“Of course, she’ll be there,” Gage offers and I force myself to look at him. It feels heavy and weighted just to meet with his gaze, and as ripe as my anger is, I can feel the tears just below the surface. There’s a careful apprehension between the two of us. I’m still wearing my broken heart, and he’s still wearing that slap I issued like a freshtattoo.
Just as I’m about to think up a dozen reasons why I will not in fact be there, Mom and Demetri round out ourcircle.
“Well, look at this!” Mom bubbles. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without all of our favorite people here!” She throws her arms around Demetri, pulling him into a sort of awkward side hug, and just the sight sends my stomach churning. It’s one thing to have a secret lovechild with her favorite Fem, but to openly molest him for all to see—namely me, it makes the bile rise to the back of mythroat.
Demetri’s eyes glance to my waist, and it’s only then I note that Logan is still securely attached. It’s funny how Logan has become such a part of me, so integrally connected to my body and soul I no longer perseverate on the little details—platonic as they may be, and, in this case, they are every bitplatonic.
Logan straightens and his hand slides back to his own side. “Wonderful party.” He nods to mymother.
“Thank you!” Her entire face lights up to rival his own. “I’m thinking now that the twins are here we should get together far more often. I’d hate to wait for the holidays to roll around for us all to be in the same room. We’re family now!” She waves a hand at Emma. “Besides, don’t you think for a minute that these two lovebirds will let those sheets cool for too long.” She giggles incessantly at the potential state of my uterus. It’s clear someone has been hitting the eggnog a little too hard. “I’m expecting a basketball team from youtwo!”
“I think we’re done,” I spit the words out, looking right into those overgrown sapphires that belong to Gage Oliver. And I meandonein the most literal sense. A dull ache infiltrates me from the inside. Gage and I can never really be done, not with two precious souls between us—three counting our daughter who never made it out of the womb. My entire affect sags at the thought of Sage missing her first Christmas, every Christmas here onout.
Mom chortles at my response and smacks Demetri over the arm. “And we thought we were done, didn’twe?”
The entire lot of us leers at the two of them with soberexpressions.
Oh my shit. I swear on all that is holy if Demetri has knocked up my mother again I’ll find a way to hack him topieces.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask the obviousquestion.
Demetri chortles right alongside the loon still clutching him tight. “I think what Lizbeth is trying to say is that the best intentions sometimes go awry, Skyla.” He bears those dark soulless eyes into mine as if he were stabbing each one out with a pitchfork. “We make plans and God laughs.” The smug grin returns to his face. “God laughs when we try to manipulate our circumstances.” He glances to Chloe in the not too far distance, and my stomach bubbles with the promise of an eruption. “Some things are simply meant to be. You cannot stop destiny—you cannot stopfate.”
I step in close to him while Mom, Emma, and Barron busy themselves fussing over the twins. “Tad might annoy the ever-living hell out of me—and yes, I might wish I could light his head on fire a time or two, but he belongs with my mother. Keep your greasy claws to yourself, wouldyou?”
Demetri’s demented grin expands. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” He strums out a laugh. “Oh, what the heck, it’s Christmas, Skyla.” He gives a sly wink. “This one’s foryou.”
Mom pulls me in and wraps her arms around me tight. “I mean we found our way back to one another after all of those years.” Gross. “Never mind all of this deep thinking. It’s Christmas! And in about five minutes I’ve got a surprise for the kids.” She leans in and cups her hand around her lips. “We have a very special guest getting ready to make anappearance!”
Marshall leans in. “Andthisis my gift toyou.”
A series of choking sounds and choice expletives emit from the stairwell, and everyone stills and turns in thatdirection.
Down tumbles Tad, clad in a red Santa suit and a full fuzzy white beard that looks as if he chopped up Mia’s massive teddy bear collection to fashion it. He’s donned a pair of large, rather ill-fitting boots that might actually be the cause of his forthcoming paralysis judging by the way he’s taking the stairs four at a time, and I swear a leg just wrapped itself around hisshoulders.
“Hock, hock, hock!” he barks it out like a threat—and dear God, he can’t even get the terminology right. Mom chortles up a storm as does everyone else, and the room breaks out into a jovialmood.
Mom herds Misty, Beau, and Ember to the forefront of this madness. Thank God Almighty the boys are far too young to participate in the slaughtering of Santa. Tad Landon is a lot of things, a knockoff Santa he isnot.
“Emma, get the boys!” Mom harps while wavingwildly.
Emma snatches Nathan from Gage, and she and Barron are quick to comply with my mother’s sillywishes.
I head over and, upon closer inspection, note Tad’s Santa suit looks as if it was used to clean the inside of a deep fryer. Funny, I don’t remember him ever donning the felt monstrosity before. Must be new, or more to the broke point, new tohim. It’s spotted and tattered with tiny holes sitting prominently on hisshoulder.
Tad howls and whelps until he finally manages to stick the landing and stands proud at the base of thestairs.
“All right, round up the ankle biters!” He holds out his hands in an animated manner. “Who would like to be the first to sit on Santa’slap?”
His sleeve dips close to the candle on the end table next to him, and just as I’m about to move it out of the way, his entire arm erupts inflames.
