I am so in love with this moment. Gran has planted herself on a velvet armchair and she watches everything with wide eyes and a nice tall glass of scotch on the rocks beside her.
“Oh, honey,” she sighs when I bring over a tray of finished decorations for her approval. “They’re perfect. Every last one of them.” She sounds close to tears, though her smile is pure joy.
I don’t think Gran has seen this much life or family for a long time. I never think about all that she’s lost. Her son and husband are gone, my parents are off vacationing and haven’t even called in, and her daughter Rochelle is living her own life in Mexico, but she checks in from time to time. In a way it’s just Gran and I.
We put off our family Christmas until the twenty-sixth so we could spend Christmas with Marcel. Thad and his mom will be coming over and we’ll have a more traditional holiday with ice skating, Christmas carols, and gifts. I look over at the men, Marcel, Beckett, and Griffin as they stand near the fireplace with tumblers of Scotch, watching the chaos like proud generals surveying their troops. Every few minutes, one of them kneels down to help tape up a crooked paper chain or hold a child aloft so they can hang something higher on the tree. Marcel surprises me the most as he ties a lopsided bow onto a branch himself and doesn’t even care that it looks ridiculous. The tree is fake and was unearthed from storage just twenty minutes before the guests arrived. Within hours, however, we have Christmas decorations and vibes that scream of joy and unbridled childhood. I couldn’t be happier.
When dinner is served, which Marcel has ordered in from a local Chinese restaurant since it’s the only place open, we are chatting about Christmas, the children’s accomplishments, and the Eaton project. Marcel is proud to share that he is bolstering the community. The men talk about some scandals a lawyer in their secret society has gotten them into and the mood is light, messy, and loud.
By the time dinner’s over, the kids are curled up in blankets on the rug, drooling into pillows, half-asleep in front ofThe Polar Express.
Scarlett shakes her head in wonder.
“This is the easiest bedtime we’ve ever had,” she whispers. “I hope we can keep them asleep on the ride home. We don’t want them waking up and spoiling the morning surprise.”
We all laugh softly and tiptoe around them. After midnight, coats are pulled on, hugs are exchanged, and slowly the house empties. Gran pats my cheek before heading up the stairs. “Most fun I’ve had in years,” she declares with sparkling eyes. “The Grinch really brought his A-game.” She shoots Marcel a wink, and he blushes, actually blushes. “You know I could get used to living in a place like this ... it’s roomy.” She wiggles as she makes her way up the stairs.
“I love you, Gran,” I call up after her.
“I love you too. Don’t stay up too late now, or Santa won’t come.” She doesn’t even glance back, just shuffles off to her bedroom.
“She’s one of a kind,” Marcel says fondly.
“She's the greatest human being in the world,” I say with a big grin on my face. I look around at the mess. “Well, let’s get to it.” I start to make my way into the living room and Marcel stops me.
“You’re not going to clean up.” He kisses my brow. “You'll likely never clean up again.”
I frown at him. “Oh come on, you aren’t going to make a housekeeper clean up this mess on Christmas Eve are you? That’s very Grinchy behavior.”
“No, they’ll come in the morning before we come downstairs. Some people in New York don't celebrate Christmas, and I give a two- thousand-dollar bonus for working on Christmas Eve and Christmas day if they do come to clean up this mess. This isn’t bad, nothing that a vacuum cleaner and trash bags can’t fix.” He offers me a wide smile.
“And I want to disagree with you on one very important point.”
“Ah, I see it now, marital discord on the horizon.” I’m teasing, but I am a little afraid of what he’s going to tell me.
“Gran is not the greatest human being in the world, at least not the only one.” He kisses my lips, slipping his tongue in.
We make out for a moment and I feel warm and giddy, like I have a lifetime of things to look forward to.
“Oh she’s not?” I act cute and coy when our mouths part.
“Nope.” He kisses me again. “You are. And I plan to spoil you rotten, Juliet. I want to see you smile and blush every day of our lives.”
My heart stops. “I’m sure you’ll get tired of it.”
“Never, I will never get tired of loving you.” Wow. I don’t have a comeback; everything stops. It’s just us standing there in the middle of his massive house and all the mess. The quiet feels strange after the storm of laughter and chaos. Marcel pulls me close, kisses me with a hunger that melts all my fears away.
Before long we’re in his room, tangled together under sheets that smell faintly of cedar and smoke. His hands are gentle but sure, his voice rough with emotion as he murmurs promises against my skin. This time isn’t just about need; it’s about choosing each other and confirming we’re in this together. When he enters me it is with a conviction I’ve never seen before in his eyes. It is too soon for words, the ones that will define us, so I open my legs wider and he presses in until we are one being from top to toe. We fit together perfectly. He looks into my eyes and I stare back at him as he smiles before he kisses and bites my neck while I shatter around him and he unleashes in me. Our love making is soft and sweet. We sleep tangled in each other with legs and limbs crossed.
Just before I nod off he touches my belly.
“Good night, baby,” he says. “Be good to your mama.”
In the morning I’m awakened by a warm kiss. “Merry Christmas,” Marcel says, with eyes as bright as a child’s on Christmas morning.
“Merry Christmas,” I say back, stretching out.
We shower and brush our teeth as if this is every morning for us. We don’t talk things though or muse on anything but just exist with one another. We might both be afraid to say something that will show our hand and so we don’t.
