I glance around at the aftermath of our gift exchange—ribbons and paper creating a festive disaster zone. Dad's wearing his new "Meat Me in the Backyard" apron, though he claims it's just because he spilled wine earlier. Mom keeps touching the handmade ornament from Eliza like it might disappear.
Ivy's first edition ofThe Secret Gardensits carefully wrapped in cloth on the coffee table. Worth every hour I spent tracking it down just to see her face light up. I haven't taken off the sweater she made me, even though it's possibly the ugliest thing I've ever worn, and I love it more than anything.
"Oh!" Matt sits up suddenly. "Almost forgot. One more round."
He retrieves four wrapped packages from behind the tree, and something about Sarah's smile makes my stomach flip. They're both trying too hard to look casual as Matt hands them out. One each to Mom, Dad, Ivy, and me.
"Together?" Mom asks, fingers already working at the paper's edges.
The room stills as we reveal matching T-shirts, and for a moment, my brain refuses to process what I'm seeing.
My eyes jump from text to text—Drunkle in Trainingstretched across mine,Cool Aunt Club: Founding Memberon Ivy's, Mom's,I've waited my whole life to be called Grandma, and Dad's,Granddad Loading . . .
Mom's shriek could probably be heard in all Hallow's End.
"Holy shit," I breathe, staring at Matt and Sarah. The words feel inadequate against the magnitude of what's happening. "Are you . . .?"
Sarah's smile trembles, happy tears catching the firelight. "Twelve weeks, as of yesterday."
"I'm going to be a grandmother," Mom manages through her own tears, but she's already launching herself at Sarah.
Dad looks shell-shocked. But in a good way. Like someone just handed him everything he never knew he wanted.
I turn to Ivy, and the look on her face knocks the air from my lungs. She's glowing, and already moving to embrace Sarah, but there's a softness in her eyes when she glances back at me. A quietsomeday. And watching her—the way she fits so perfectly in this chaos, and how naturally she claims her spot in our expanding family—I know with bone-deep certainty that I want to give her this. All of it. When we're ready.
Snow drifts past the streetlights as we climb the stairs to my apartment, both of us quiet but vibrating with something electric.
"Matt's going to be insufferable now," I say, fumbling with my keys. The metal is cold against my suddenly clumsy fingers. "Did you see his face when—"
Ivy's mouth finds mine, cutting off whatever I was about to say. Her lips taste of mulled wine and cinnamon, sweet and warm against the winter air still clinging to our skin. When she presses closer, pinning me against my own door, my brain short-circuits completely. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan.
"Less talking about your brother," she murmurs against my mouth, "more kissing me."
My hands slide down to grip her waist, anchoring her to me as she deepens the kiss. Weeks of wanting crash through me—every night spent holding back, trying to earn her trust, prove I could be the man she deserves. Then she rocks against me, slow and deliberate, and a sound I'll deny later rips from my throat.
The hallway light flickers overhead, casting shifting shadows across her face when we break apart. Her cheeks are flushed pink, lips swollen from kissing, and I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
"Inside," she pants, reaching past me to turn the handle. "Now."
"You sure?" I manage, even as she's already pushing me through the doorway. "Because we could—"
"Caleb." Her eyes are dark and hungry, pupils blown wide. "I've spent weeks watching you be perfect. Patient.Sweet." Each word punctuated with a kiss that leaves me dizzy. "Now I want you to show me how much you've been holding back."
She doesn't give me time to think.
The door clicks shut behind us, and her mouth is on mine like she's starved for it. Our coats land on the floor in a heap, with the soft thud of fabric and the metallic clink of keys hitting hardwood. The heating unit hums in the corner, but all I can focus on is the sound of her breathing, quick and shallow against my neck.
I walk her backward until her spine hits the wall, and she gasps at the contact. My hands find the soft fabric of her dress, bunching it up, and her skin is so warm beneath my palms I could get drunk on just touching her.
She gasps when I lift her, legs instinctively wrapping around my waist, heels digging into my back. I press her into the wall and kiss her like I'm making up for every second I didn't. The taste of her is heady and sweet, and when she rocks against me, I can feel how warm she is even through our clothes.
"I've been good," I murmur against her mouth. "So fucking good."
She clutches at me, nodding frantically. "Stop being good."
"Hold on," I growl, hooking an arm beneath her ass as I lift her higher. She clutches tighter, thighs clamped around my shoulders, breath hitching near my ear. My free hand yanks the soaked lace down her legs, letting it catch at her ankle like a collar she forgot she needed. She's already shaking when I fall to my knees, keeping her wrapped tight as I bury my face between her thighs.
She arches with a cry the second I taste her. My grip locks at her waist, holding her wide open as I devour. Long, hungry licks through her slick heat. My lips seal around her clit, and I suck hard until her body jerks and her thighs start to tremble. She's dripping for me, coating my face, and I lap it up like it's my last meal.
