She nods solemnly.
“Well, I have a cookie.”
She pops out like a jack-in-the-box. I laugh and scoop her up. “That’s what I thought.”
Behind me, Thea toddles across the rug, dragging Sebastian’s flannel behind her like a security blanket. She’s dressed in a red onesie with a reindeer on the butt and one sock.
Sebastian appears from the kitchen with powdered sugar on his jaw and two steaming mugs in his hands. His gaze finds me instantly. It always does.
“You found the glitter monster,” he says, handing me a mug.
“She was nesting under the tree like a gremlin. Thea’s about to eat a pinecone, by the way.”
He swoops in, scoops Thea up, and snatches the pinecone out of her hand. She squeals and grabs his beard instead.
“Ow,” he says, chuckling. “She’s got your grip.”
“She has your attitude.”
We swap girls. I pass Maeve to her daddy and accept Thea in return. She tucks her face into my neck and sighs like she’s been working a double shift.
“How are you holding up?” he asks, his voice low.
“Good.” I lean into his side. “Really good.”
Three years ago, I stood in the parking lot and said yes to forever. Since then, we’ve renovated the bakehouse, built a new patio, hired help for both the inn and the kitchen.
Loretta runs the counter like a caffeine-fueled general. My mom, who moved back to Hope Peak, handles events. Sebastian does everything from repairs to hosting veteran meetups in the lounge.
And me? I bake. I hold my twin girls. I kiss my husband. I live.
We head into the dining room where a stack of presents still waits for tiny hands. Maeve wiggles in Sebastian’s arms and dives into the pile with a war cry.
Thea stays on my hip, watching with that quiet intensity that’s always been hers. She rests her cheek against my shoulder and hums something tuneless while I sip my cocoa.
My mom joins us, brushing a kiss over Thea’s curls. “They’re getting so big.”
“Don’t remind me.”
She smiles at me. “I’m proud of you, Willa. Your grandmother would be too.”
My throat tightens. I blink fast and look at the twinkle lights instead.
Sebastian throws a wrapping paper ball at me. I stick my tongue out at him.
He grins and mouths, “Later,” with a heat that still hits me square in the chest.
Loretta plops down beside me, fanning herself. “One of the guests just asked if I was single. I told him I have standards.”
“Do you?” Sebastian teases.
“Rude.” She grabs a candy cane and waves it at him like a sword. “Watch it, or I’ll unleash the twins on you.”
“Please,” he mutters. “They already run the house.”
He’s not wrong.
I sit back and watch the chaos. Wrapping paper everywhere. Cocoa stains. Family tucked into every corner of the room.
