“Sprinkles in cocoa?” Denton raises an eyebrow, feigning skepticism as he heads towards the kitchen. “That’s crazy talk.”
“It’sdelicious,” Tabby insists solemnly. “Holly says sprinkles make everything better. Right, Holly?”
I sink down onto the sofa next to her, pulling her into a sideways hug. She smells like shampoo and sleep and sugary excitement. “Absolutely right,” I confirm, dropping a kiss onto her wild hair. “Sprinkles are essential Christmas morning fuel.”
Denton shakes his head, but he’s smiling as he pulls out a saucepan. “Sprinkles it is. Marshmallows too. The works.”
The scent of warm milk and chocolate begins to fill the air, mingling with the pine from the tree. Tabby wriggles impatiently beside me. “How long, Daddy?”
“Patience, Tabby Cat,” Denton says, stirring the cocoa. “Good things take time. Like building gingerbread castles.” He shoots me a quick, warm glance over his shoulder, and my heart flutters. The memory of our baking lesson, the moment under the mistletoe… it feels like a lifetime ago and just yesterday.
Finally, he pours the steaming cocoa into three mismatched mugs – one with a chipped reindeer (mine, brought from the bakery), one plain black (his), and one bright pink covered in glittery unicorns (Tabby’s, naturally).
He carries them over, setting them carefully on the coffee table beside Tabby’s gingerbread castle masterpiece. True to his word, he liberally showers each mug with mini marshmallows and a ridiculous amount of rainbow sprinkles.
Tabby grabs hers immediately, blowing carefully across the surface before taking a tentative sip. Her eyes close in bliss. “Mmm! Perfect! Thanks, Daddy!” She beams at him.
Denton hands me my reindeer mug and I take a sip. The cocoa is rich and creamy, the marshmallows melting into sweet goo, the sprinkles adding a delightful, crunchy texture. It’s happiness in a mug.
“Okay!” Tabby sets her mug down, marshmallow mustache decorating her upper lip. “Presents now! Who goes first?”
“Ladies first,” Denton says, settling onto the sofa on my other side, stretching his arm along the back behind me. His fingers find the back of my neck, idly playing with the ends of my hair. The casual intimacy of the gesture makes me smile.
Tabby needs no further encouragement. She dives into the pile with the focused intensity of a treasure hunter, emerging with a large, lumpy package wrapped in silver paper adorned with giant green stars.
“This one’s for you, Holly!” she announces, thrusting it towards me. “From me! I painted it all by myself!”
“Oh, sweet pea, thank you!” I take the surprisingly heavy package. I carefully peel back the paper, revealing a large ceramic… something. It’s painted in bright, enthusiastic swirls of blue, green, and glittery gold.
“It’s a cookie jar!” Tabby explains proudly. “For Sugar Rush! See? It’s shaped like a big cookie! I made it at school with Miss Amy!”
I stare at the lumpy, glittery, utterly perfect ceramic cookie. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Tabby… it’s amazing,” I breathe, my throat tightening. “Absolutely perfect. Ilove it. Thank you so much.” I lean over and pull her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek. She giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“You’re welcome!” she declares, pulling back. “Okay, Daddy! Your turn! That red one is yours! From me and Holly!”
Denton accepts the small, rectangular package wrapped in deep red paper with a silver bow. He tears the paper carefully, revealing a flat box. Inside the box is a framed photograph. It’s a picture Charlie took at the tree lighting. Denton, Tabby and I are sitting on the plaid blanket all smiling. It feels like a hundred years ago.
Denton stares at the photo for a long moment. Then he looks up, first at Tabby, then at me. His eyes are suspiciously bright again.
“This is…” He clears his throat. “This is perfect. Thank you.” He leans over, pressing a kiss to Tabby’s forehead, then turns to me, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. We don’t kiss in front of Tabby, not yet, but the look he gives me says everything.
The present opening continues in a whirlwind of torn paper, excited squeals, and heartfelt thank-yous. Tabby gets a new art easel (“For masterpieces!” she declares), a set of sparkly dress-up wings, a mountain of books, and her own apron and oven mitts to use at home.
“You can teach me how to bake more yummy things here, Holly!” she says as I give her a hug.
I get a beautiful, impossibly soft cashmere scarf in deep green from Denton (“To match your eyes,” he murmurs) and a set of vintage cookie cutters from his mom.
Finally, the mountain of presents is unwrapped. Tabby is sitting on the floor happily reading one of her new books and humming “Jingle Bells” off-key.
Denton gathers the discarded wrapping paper into a large bag. I sip the last of my now-lukewarm cocoa, watching them, a profound sense of contentment settling over me. It’s more than just the presents or the cocoa. It’s the feeling of belonging. Of being exactly where I’m meant to be.
Denton finishes tidying and comes back to the sofa, sinking down beside me. He drapes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, watching Tabby concentrate fiercely on her book.
“Holly?” Denton’s voice is low against my ear.
“Hmm?”
He shifts slightly, reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants. He pulls out a small, flat box wrapped in simple gold paper. “I have one more for you. From me.” He places it gently in my hands.
