“Are you with family?” I asked.
“Girl, yes,” Troi said with a groan. “My auntie in here arguing over who put raisins in the damn potato salad. Again.” We both started cracking up.
“Thanks for calling. You’ve been real since day one.”
He smiled at the screen. “Ain’t nothin’ changed. I’m always gon’ be a call away. Now go on, enjoy your man and your moment. I’m tryna be like you next Christmas.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Crazy, fine, and festive,” he winked, blowing me a kiss before hanging up.
I tucked my phone in my robe pocket, heart full. When I stepped back into the living room, Woods was already sitting on the couch with his phone angled in his hand.
“She’s right here,” he said, then looked up at me. I padded over, and he turned the phone so I could see the screen. His mom was smiling back at us, her Christmas tree glowing in the background.
“Merry Christmas, Autumn!” she said with a smile that looked just like his.
“Merry Christmas,” I replied warmly. “Hope you’re enjoying your morning.”
“I am now,” she winked. “Y’all enjoy each other and this holiday. That’s what it’s all about.”
“We will,” Woods said, giving her a short nod before tapping the screen and ending the call. He pulled me into his lap right after. “So what’s the move for breakfast?” I asked, pressing my cold feet under his warm leg. “You cookin’ or we orderin’ somethin’ ?”
I looked at him like he had just said the wildest thing in the world. “Ordering? You’re gonna disrespect me on Christmas morning?”
He grinned. “I’m just sayin’. Ain’t no shame in orderin’ French toast and grits from—”
“Quamaine, stop playing with me.”
He pinned me beneath him, lips grazing my cheek. “I love playin’ wit’ you.”
“Get up,” I giggled, trying to squirm out from under him.
“Nah. You wanna talk slick. Now you gotta pay the consequences.” He started tickling me mercilessly, ignoring my squeals and slaps to his chest.
“Woods! Stop!” I laughed, breathless, my head falling back on the throw pillow. “Okay, okay! You win!”
He stopped just long enough to kiss me again, then trailed his lips lower until they were brushing my stomach.
“Merry Christmas in there,” he said, resting his hand over my belly. “Y’all the best gift. I swear.”I blinked, feeling a wave of emotion rush over me. And then my stomach let out the loudest growl, and we both just stared at each other for a second before laughing. He stood and pulled me up with him, holding my hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let me show you how breakfast is done… by a real nigga.”
The smell of cinnamon and chocolate still lingered in the air as we made our way into the kitchen. I settled on one of the barstools at the island, checking my social media. My screen lit up instantly.
I had likes, comments, DMs, and shares. It was wild. Cammy, my client from the other day, had tagged me in her pictures and stories for slaying her hair. Everybody and their mama was on me. I scrolled through with a half-smile, fingers tapping through story mentions and comments. I embraced it all as I looked up just in time to catch Woods pulling out foil-covered pans from the fridge.
“Wait,” I said, squinting. “I know you ain’t…”
He smirked without turning around. “What?”
I burst out laughing. “That’s your grand Christmas breakfast? Leftovers?”
He laughed too, setting the pans down on the counter with zero shame. “Hell yeah. Ain’t no point in lettin’ all this good shit go to waste.”
“Woods…” I giggled, resting my phone down. “That is not breakfast.”
“Says who?” he asked, unwrapping the foil and peeking inside like he was discovering treasure. “Look at this ham, baby. You glazed this muthafucka to perfection. Shit almost as sweet as you.”
“Boy, shut up,” I said, still laughing.
