“Eight. We should probably get up before Kai smothers us.”
She laughs softly and slides out of bed. I watch her go, noting the slight changes in her body that weren’t there weeks ago. Nothing obvious yet, but I notice.
We gather in the sitting room an hour later. The fire is already going, and Dad has coffee waiting. Kai appears with bedheadand an enthusiastic energy that shouldn’t be legal before nine AM.
“Presents!” He drops onto the floor beside the tree. “Can we do presents now?”
“You’re twenty-five,” Dad says. “Not five.”
“And yet the question stands.”
Samantha laughs, and the sound makes my chest ache. She’s relaxed this morning. Present in a way she hasn’t been lately. Like she’s letting herself enjoy this instead of drowning in whatever guilt has been eating at her.
We exchange gifts. Kai got everyone something ridiculous. I got everyone something practical. Dad got everyone something thoughtful.
Samantha opens the gift from all three of us, a jewelry box with a necklace inside. Simple. Elegant. Three intertwined circles in white gold.
“It’s beautiful,” she says quietly, fingers tracing the circles.
“One for each of us,” Kai explains. “So you’re always carrying us with you.”
She tears up, and Dad helps her put it on. She touches it constantly throughout the morning, like she’s grounding herself with the weight of it.
We spend the day doing nothing important. Watch old movies. Eat too much food. Play cards by the fire. Kai tells embarrassing stories about Dad and me. Samantha laughs until she cries. It’s perfect.
This is what I want for the rest of my life. These people. This warmth. This sense of belonging that I’ve never felt anywhere else.
But throughout the day, I notice Dad disappearing. Taking calls in his office. Checking his phone more than usual. There’s tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there yesterday.
During dinner, he barely eats. Just pushes food around his plate and responds to conversation on autopilot.
After we finish, I catch him before he can escape to his office again. “What’s wrong?” I ask quietly.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He’s already moving past me. “Just handling some business.”
“On Christmas Day?”
“Business doesn’t stop for holidays.”
“Dad.” I follow him into the hallway. “I know you. Something’s bothering you.”
He stops and turns to face me. For a moment, I think he’s going to tell me. Then his expression closes off. “I’m fine, Donovan. Focus on Samantha and the baby. That’s what matters.”
“Then why can’t you focus on it?”
“I am focused on it.” But he won’t meet my eyes. “I’m just handling a few things that need handling. Nothing for you to worry about.”
He walks away before I can push further, and I stand in the hallway watching him go, frustration building under my skin.
Something’s wrong with both him and Samantha. She’s hiding something that makes her cry when she thinks no one’s watching. He’s investigating something that has him distracted even on Christmas.
And I’m stuck in the middle.
27
SAMANTHA
The smellof cinnamon and pine always takes me back to the last Christmas with Mom.
