I brush my hands against my jeans, taking a step back. “Alright,” I announce, surveying our masterpiece. “We’re missing one thing.”
Everyone turns toward me, eyes bright under the glow of the lights.
I hold up the tree topper—an old wooden star Vincent carved years ago, polished smooth by time and the oil of a hundred hands. “Who gets the honors this year?”
“Me!” Theo shouts immediately, his hand shooting into the air.
“No fair!” Rose cries, crossing her arms. “You got to do it last time!”
Cast glances at Vincent, and there’s a small, silent exchange between them—one of those looks that carries a dozen unspoken words. Vincent’s lips twitch into something between a smirk and a nod.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Cast says, crouching to scoop Rose up. “You’re up.”
She squeals, clutching the wooden star like it’s made of gold as he lifts her high. The lights shimmer against her curls, and when she stretches forward to set it at the very top, the whole tree seems to come alive.
“There,” she whispers, breathless and proud. “Perfect.”
The room fills with applause, laughter, and the rustle of wrapping paper. Even Nana claps from the couch, her eyes misting behind her glasses.
But in the middle of it all, a small, uncertain voice tugs at my attention.
“Mom?”
I turn to see Penny standing by the couch, pale beneath the warm light. She’s still holding a bit of tinsel in one hand, her other pressed flat to her stomach.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, crossing to her quickly.
She shakes her head, eyelids heavy.. “I don’t know. My tummy feels weird.”
My smile falters. I touch her forehead gently, brushing her hair back. Her skin is warm—too warm. Not burning, but the kind of heat that hums just under the surface.
“You feel a little warm, sweetheart.” I keep my voice soft so the others don’t stop their chatter. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? Maybe the hot cocoa and cookies didn’t mix well.”
Her lip wobbles slightly, that tired, brave little look she gets when she doesn’t want to make a fuss. “I don’t want to miss decorating.”
I smile and kiss her temple. “You won’t. We’re almost done. Go rest on the couch, okay? You can watch us finish the lights.”
She nods, trusting me, and shuffles toward the sofa with her blanket dragging behind her. Cast catches my eye across the room—silent question. I give a small shake of my head. “Just a stomach thing,” I mouth. He nods once, but his gaze lingers on her for a moment longer before turning back to Rose and the star.
When Penny curls up, the lights from the tree spill across her face, painting her in soft gold. Her eyes flutter closed, lashes trembling.
And even though the laughter swells again around us—Theo shouting that he should get to put the candy canes on next, Damien pretending to trip over a box of ornaments—the warmth in my chest dims just a little.
I brush a hand against my own stomach without thinking, the faintest echo of worry stirring in my gut before I force myself to smile again.
“There,” I say softly, stepping back to take it all in—the glow of the lights threading through the branches, the glitter scattered across the floor, the hum of laughter spilling through the room. “Perfect.”
I reach for my mug of cocoa, still warm on the counter, when the doorbell rings.
“Who’s that?” Elise asks from under the tree, her hands tangled in tinsel.
“I’ve got it,” I say quickly, already stepping toward the foyer. “Probably a package.”
The hallway is dimmer, quieter. The sound of the family fades into a muffled hum behind me as I open the front door. A gust of winter air rushes in, biting my cheeks, sharp and clean.
A courier stands on the porch, wrapped in a thick coat and scarf. His nose is red from the cold, his breath fogging the air. A large, flat parcel rests against his leg, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.
“Delivery for Willow Beaumont,” he says, handing me a clipboard.
