“Thank you,” I said, leaning in to give her a one-armed hug around the casserole dish and chihuahua she was holding.
“Can I take that for you?” I offered, reaching for the dish.
“I got this,” she said, pulling it back. “You just go see Toby,” she encouraged, giving me a little wink.
You’d think, after twenty-eight years, I’d be used to meddling mothers… but it seemed they would always have the power to embarrass me somehow. Laughing as if she knew what I was thinking, Gail continued into the house, she and my mother talking and Teacup barking.
“Thanks for coming, George,” I said, holding open the front door for Toby’s father who had his arms full of gifts. “Did you buy out the store?”
“Not me.” He negated. “But I’m sure my wife tried.”
I laughed.
“Thanks for having us. It’s good to see you, son.”
I was caught a little off guard. Something about the tone of his voice caused a lump in my throat.
He paused in the doorway, glancing around all the brightly wrapped packages in his arms to look at me. “I’m glad you and Toby finally worked it out. Welcome to the family.”
Well. If I’d been nervous about how George might take the news of me and his son, I knew now it was all in vain.
It took a moment for me to speak. That lump in my throat had grown to the size of an orange. “Thank you,” I told him, voice a bit gruff. “That, ah, means a lot to me.”
“I expect a free tree every Christmas from here on out.”
I barked a laugh, his words exactly what I needed to burst the pressure inside me.
“I think that can be arranged,” I mused.
He went on in the house, his voice blending with the others, and I let the door swing closed to turn toward Toby standing at the bottom of the stairs.
We smiled at each other, and I met him at the top of the stairs to pull him in for a kiss.
“Hi,” I said when I finally pulled back.
“Merry Christmas,” he answered.
“This year it is.”
“Best Christmas in a long time.” He agreed.
“Because you’re here.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile as he smoothed his hand over my shoulder. “Well, this sweater is different.”
“A gift from my mom,” I explained.
“Just wait till next year when my mom makes you take a family photo with all of us in matching pajamas.”
I chuckled but then realized he wasn’t laughing too. “Wait. You’re serious?”
“As mistletoe,” he vowed.
There was nothing more serious in Winterbury than mistletoe.
I grimaced.
“Don’t worry.” Toby comforted me. “I’ll hold your hand.”
