“Hailey, honey?” my mom cuts in, head tilting in mom-concern. “You alright?”
And then everyone is looking at me. Every Bristol, every Simpson. The people who raised us, loved us, watched us fall apart and get put back together. They’re all standing in our foyer, boots half-on, snow melting on the hardwood, and I feel it, the urge to let it burst out of me.
I glance at Cole. He gives me that look, the one that saysyour call, baby. My throat wobbles. “Okay,” I say, laughing a little, wiping at another traitorous tear. “So… funny story.”
Maddie shrieks preemptively. “I KNEW IT.”
“We were gonna wait,” I say, glaring at her fondly. “For like… five minutes. But I took a test before you guys got here and, um…” I grab Cole’s hand and drag it to my stomach, laying it there like punctuation. “We’re having a baby.”
There’s half a second of stunned silence. Then the house detonates.
“WHAT?” Maddie screams and launches herself at me so fast I almost go down. “YOU’RE PREGNANT? YOU’RE PREGNANT? WITH HIS BABY?” She’s crying and laughing and somehow hugging both of us at once. “Oh my God, I’m gonna be an aunt.”
Marla’s hands fly to her mouth, eyes immediately filling with tears. “Oh, sweetie.” She rushes forward, hugging us both, patting my hair. “A Christmas baby! Well, not at Christmas, but you know.”
My mom’s crying now too. “I’m going to be a grandma!” She turns to my dad like he’s not standing here, hearing all of it just like her. “Greg, did you hear? We’re going to be grandparents!”
My dad’s grinning so wide the skin around his eyes crinkles. He shakes Cole’s hand and pulls him in. “You knocked up my daughter, huh?”
“Dad!” I laugh, mortified.
Cole just snorts. “Yes, sir.”
“Good man,” Dad says, then pulls me into a careful hug like I’m made of spun sugar. “So happy for you, baby girl.”
There are arms everywhere, coats half-on, luggage forgotten. Marla is already talking about tiny Christmas pajamas and stockings with the baby’s name on it. My mom is asking how I’m feeling, was I sick, do I need to sit down, should we move dinner up. Maddie is crying harder than anyone and taking selfies with me even though my eyes are blotchy.
“Texting the friend group chat,” she says, thumbing furiously. “Aunt Maddie era unlocked.”
“We don’t need a group chat about my uterus,” I protest.
“Oh, we absolutely do,” she fires back.
Cole’s dad, who’s been quieter, steps in close and claps his son on the shoulder, eyes soft. “Proud of you, son.” He turns to me. “Proud of you, too. You two… this is good.”
Cole pulls me toward him, tugging me closer to his side, palm spread wide over my stomach like he can already protect both of us at once.
“Alright, alright,” Marla says, wiping her eyes and trying to restore order. “Everybody inside, boots off. Babies don’t need pneumonia, well, future babies. Oh my goodness, I’m going to need to sit down.”
“Kitchen,” I say, laughing through new tears. “Food’s almost ready.”
“Did you eat?” my mom asks immediately.
“Not yet.”
“Then you need to eat. You’re eating for two now.”
“It’s the size of a chia seed,” I protest, but I’m already letting her usher me toward a barstool.
The whole crew moves like a very loud, very loving herd through the great room. Coats get draped over chairs, gifts pile under the tree, someone turns the music up, and the house fills the way I’d pictured it would when I first saw it on that ridge.
Full of our people. Full of laughter. Full of the life we made.
I catch Cole watching me from near the entryway, his family swirling around him, my parents talking to his. He looks… different. Not scared. Not overwhelmed. Just… settled. Like this is the thing he didn’t know he was waiting for.
His gaze drops for a second to his jacket, hung over the newel post. He pats the pocket like he’s checking something’s still there, then looks back at me.
He gives me that slow, private smile, the one that says the surprises aren’t done yet. And just like that, Christmas gets even better.
