“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging!” Miles said, emerging from the kitchen with a tray of steaming cocoa in hand. “Even elves need a snack break.”
I took a mug from him, hands warming around the cup. “Thank you, Santa,” I said with a grin. Miles winked and whispered something about my “audience participation,” making me blush.
Sadie, naturally, had decided that tinsel was her favorite decoration. She twirled it around herself, then threw it over the tree in a glittery, tangled mess. “Shiny,” she squealed.
I lunged to save a stray strand from falling onto the fireplace. “Careful, we don’t want to start any extra fires.”
“I’ll be the tinsel police,” Will said, saluting me. “I’ll make sure nothing bad happens.”
I was just happy he didn’t have his nose buried in his video games, but Adrian stepped in. “You’re just trying to get out of untangling duty. I see you.”
Sadie picked up an armful of tinsel and went zipping round the tree. Will gave chase, which made her screech with laughter.
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my cocoa. “I think the tinsel police needs a cup of cocoa themselves,” I said, passing a mug to Will.
It helped to dampen the chaotic threads pulling on their excitement, and we moved on to other ornaments, the smaller, everyday ones that didn’t have nearly as much weight but were fun nonetheless. Wooden Santas, candy canes, glass snowflakes, all scattered along the tree as the kids insisted on hanging them in “just the right place.” Every time one tipped over or fell, someone would grab it with a laugh. I caught a tiny wooden train sliding down a branch and handed it back to Will, who grinned proudly and tucked it safely back where it belonged.
Adrian hovered near Emma, helping her with a particularly tricky ornament shaped like a star. “Careful,” he murmured, guiding her hands. “We don’t want it to crash-land into the lights.”
Emma pouted, determined, and I could see her concentration fold into a smile as the star finally perched safely on a high branch. “Yes! Victory!” she shouted, pumping a fist into the air.
Miles leaned against the wall cradling his mug. “Maren, do that branch over there, down at the bottom. But make sure you’re turned this way when you bend over.”
“Flirting during ornament placement is technically against the rules,” I said, and gave him a light shove.
He caught my hand and pulled me in as close as he could without drawing attention from the kids. “Rules are meant to be broken.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head, and stepped back to admire the tree. It was already alive with lights and colors, each ornament a story, a memory, a laugh caught in a loop of holiday magic.
Ethan emerged from the kitchen, carrying another tray. This time it was freshly baked cookies shaped like stars and snowflakes. “Fuel for the hardworking decorators,” he announced. His usual calm, measured tone was softened by a warmth I hadn’t fully noticed before, and it made my chest squeeze in a quiet ache.
The kids ran to him immediately, each grabbing a cookie, while I took my own, savoring the warmth.
“Surrounded by Santas in the spirit of giving. I’m a lucky girl.”
His smile was almost shy as he dipped his head and passed the tray to me to serve the rest of them their cookies. Adrian flashed me a wink, having heard the exchange and approving, in his own way. We were all still floating from the encounter in Ethan’s car, and the way I felt, I’d be happy if I never touched back down.
We continued decorating, adding garlands and bows, laughing as branches flopped under the weight, and rearranging ornaments after accidental nudges. Sadie attempted to help with a candy cane ornament, stepping on a stool that wobbled slightly. I moved to steady her, and Miles hovered behind her,hands ready to catch if needed. The two of us exchanged a glance, that silent kind of communication that spoke volumes, and I smiled, feeling safe and part of this madness.
Finally, after the boxes were empty and the tree was a burst of color and lights, the room fell into a quiet lull. We stood back, mugs in hand, and admired our work. It was beautiful, chaotic, full of laughter and love, just like the people decorating it.
Ethan crouched by the kids, holding a small box behind his back. “All right, time for the special ones.”
I blinked, curiosity and emotion welling at the same time. The kids gasped, and I realized that we’d been building toward this moment the whole time.
The kids practically bounced with excitement. Emma pressed her hands together, whispering something I couldn’t quite hear but knew was a giggling incantation of anticipation. Will adjusted the tiny snowflake inside his ornament box like a reverent jeweler, and Sadie clutched her cat ornament to her chest, practically vibrating with impatience.
I knelt down, feeling a lump in my throat I hadn’t expected. “These… these are yours?”
Ethan smiled, a little mischievously but with undeniable sincerity. “Yeah, we all have one. Made them special a few years ago.”
“Open it,” Emma demanded as she thrust a box into my hands.
I lifted the lid carefully, tears springing to my eyes even though I couldn’t yet see inside.
“Oh, Emma… It’s perfect.”
A tiny painted house, snow glittering across the roof, a little wreath on the door, and, unmistakably, a miniature version ofme standing in the doorway. The tiny figure was detailed in a way that made my chest ache.
