“Will they like me?” Caleb asks.
“They’ll love you,” she assures him. “You’ll also have a lot of kids to play with, too,” she adds, which seems to make Caleb relax. Gwen turns her attention back to me with a snort. “My mom called earlier. She said she’s bringing dessert.” She rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck.
“I take it that’s not a good thing?” I ask, wondering how a dessert can be bad.
“Mom doesn’t cook. She’ll bring a Jello mold with some kind of horrible fruit in it. It’s usually pineapples. If she’s truly feeling festive, she’ll bring a lime Jello mold with cherries in it because that’s Christmas colors.”
I grimace. “Do people even eat those things anymore?”
Gwen points at me. “Exactly.”
Caleb looks up at Gwen, serious as hell. “We can have our cookies for zert!”
Gwen lets out a soft laugh that does dangerous things to my insides. “We sure can,” she says, crouching in front of him. “Although there will be a lot of people. Maybe you and I should make some pies too.”
Caleb straightens, chest puffing out like he’s five going on fifty. “Well, I am a good helper. You said I make the best cookies ever.”
“I said it because you do! Your cookies are amazing,” Gwen brags.
If it’s even possible, my son’s chest puffs up even more. Pride from her praise oozes out of his pores. “I bet I can be better at making pies,” he declares.
I watch my son with Buddy pressed against his leg, and my chest goes tight. This—this—is what Christmas is supposed to look like. Warm. Loud. A little chaotic, but full of love. I’ve never had it before, but I definitely have it now. The fact that my son is getting it too, however, is what fills me with so much gratitude that I can barely breathe.
It’s a perfect moment … until reality comes crashing in with a bang—a literal bang—by someone knocking so hard on my front door I’m worried it won’t stay on the damn hinges. I frown and look at Gwen and Caleb. “You two start making pies. I’ll see who’s at the door.”
Gwen’s eyes flicker with worry, but I just smile and shake my head. The last thing I want is her stressing. I move to the door, glance through the peephole, and relax when I see Knife and Rocky. There’s a gun in the drawer safe of the antique buffet placed here in the foyer. I don’t like that I even have to think about it—but I’m damn grateful I don’t need it with my family just a room away. I open the door and snap, “You assholes don’t need to take my door off.”
“Sorry, boss,” Rocky says. “We kind of need to talk to you, and you weren’t answering your phone.”
I scrub the back of my neck with my hand. “Shit, I’m sorry. My cell is probably still in my bedroom. I’ve been concentratingon my family today,” I tell them and smile when the word family pops out without even a thought. “Come on in,” I tell them. “No talking business until we’re alone, though. Gwen has enough on her plate. I don’t want to give her more to worry about.”
They both nod as they step inside. Once they make it to the living room, they stop dead.
“Damn,” Rocky mutters, making me stop when I’m almost to the kitchen entrance.
“What?” I ask.
Rocky clears his throat. Knife rubs the back of his neck. “Uh … nice tree.”
I look up at it again, lights glowing, ornaments everywhere, a crooked star on top that Caleb insisted was “perfect.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my mind racing. “It is.” The entire tree looks like something out of a movie. There are even presents under it. I don’t know how Gwen managed to buy presents, but she kept bringing them out. She hasn’t had time to shop. Although I guess she could have done it on her lunch hour today. Hell, maybe she even ordered them online. Still, that she had any at all shocked me. “Oh, by the way, I need a couple of men on the house tonight around six. Gwen’s friend Mal is coming over to watch Caleb, and I want them guarding my house. I’m taking Gwen out shopping for gifts for her family and more for Caleb.”
Rocky nods. “We can get that prospect we always liked—Benji. Have Storm come to watch over him, and that way you know your boy will be safe.”
“That sounds good,” I agree at once.
My eyes move over my room, and I must admit that it looks like Christmas exploded in the place. There are flameless candles turned on and scattered across the room. There’s Christmas throw pillows and a blanket on the back of the couch. By the tree, Buddy is still chewing his snowman, and then there’s the Elf on a Shelf perched like a tiny menace onthe fireplace mantel. Gwen found that thing. Apparently, his name is Marshmallow. Gwen spun this whole story about how Santa ships bad elves to families to keep them from getting into more trouble and delaying Christmas. She told Caleb that Marshmallow got on the naughty list by putting purple glitter in Santa’s beard shampoo. Caleb’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when she told him that. Now, he’s babysitting the elf, waiting for Christmas magic to make Marshmallow come alive. I don’t know how she’ll work around that—but I’m positive she has a plan. I have every confidence in her. I mean, I still don’t know how my woman manages to create magic out of thin air—but somehow, she does.
Rocky clears his throat again. “We, uh … should talk.”
“Kitchen,” I order quietly. We walk in just in time to witness true chaos. Powdered sugar is everywhere.
Caleb is cackling, launching sugar by the handfuls at Gwen.
“Oh, no you didn’t!” she yells, charging at him.
He squeals and hurls himself into my arms from the top of the island. “Save me, Daddy! Save me!”
