Doesn't explain it.
And that's when it happens—so fast anyone else would've missed it. A tiny hitch in his expression.
His eyes darken, something raw slipping out, unguarded and almost... pained? Like something punches the air out of him before he can stop it.
Then—just as quickly as it appears—he kills it. Jaw flexing once. Shoulders going rigid. He smooths his expression back into that cold, blank, nothing-to-see-here mask he wears better than anyone on this team.
But I saw it.
Every damn second of it.
And whatever just cracked through Elijah Deveraux?
Yeah... it's eating him alive.
Before the twins can start in on her again, I stand and peel Liam's arm off her shoulder.
"Alright, knock it off," I say, half-laughing as I steer Sam back. "Go sit down, angel. It's about to start."
She nods, waves at the guys, then slips down the aisle toward Mom's row.
And Elijah?
Yeah. He watches her go.
His eyes track her the whole damn way, like it's finally hitting him that she's really keeping her distance now. Staying away. The very thing he's pushed her toward for years...
And the look on his face?
He looks like he hates every second of it.
I shove Elijah's whole weird reaction to the back of my mind, because a few seconds later the curtains slowly pull open.
And the whole place exhales.
The stage is a full-blown Christmas fantasy — the kind that punches you in the nostalgia. A massive fir tree stands in the center, dripping in gold ornaments and twinkling warm lights. Garlands sweep across the backdrop, snow-dusted windows frame the sides, and oversized wrapped presents sit piled at the base of the tree. Everything glows like someone bottled December and poured it onto the stage.
And there she is.
Caroline. Clara.
My girl looks like a dream — all soft joy and wide-eyed wonder as she places a glass ornament on a branch, her hair tied with a satin blue ribbon, her dress pale blue and floating as she moves. The guy playing Fritz darts around her, pretending to annoy her while hanging ornaments crookedly on purpose.
Then the guests begin entering from both sides of the stage — women in velvet gowns, men in old-fashioned tailcoats, all carrying wrapped gifts to place beneath the giant tree. Kids in lace and buttoned vests run in and out of the adults' legs. It looks like an actual Victorian party come alive.
The whole opening scene has that warm, bustling holiday chaos — chatting guests, kids sneaking cookies from the gingerbread display, old men pretending not to notice.
Then Drosselmeyer arrives.
Clara's "godfather" makes this dramatic entrance, cape swirling, hair silvered, his steps exaggerated just enough to make the 'kids' squeal. He presents Clara with the Nutcracker as a special gift.
Laughter ripples through the room in one giant wave when two guys literally carry Adam onstage stiff as a board, wearingan oversized wooden Nutcracker head that must weigh at least twenty pounds. His legs don't move. His arms don't bend. He looks like a possessed action figure.
And through all of it, Caroline is perfect — her reactions, her timing, her grace. She makes the entire stage revolve around her without even trying.
I'm filming her every single time she steps onstage.
I don't even bother pretending to be subtle anymore.
