Lily bounced harder. “He already came.”
“That’s what she said,” Ethan muttered.
“Ethan,” I hissed, elbowing him.
“What?” He cracked one eye open.
“Wake up,” Lily yelled, bouncing on the bed with unrestrained enthusiasm. “It’s Christmas.”
Ethan groaned, burying his face into the pillow. I laughed, the sound spilling out of me before I could stop it.
“Okay, okay,” Ethan said, finally sitting up, hair sticking out in every direction. “I’m awake. I’m awake. Please stop using my internal organs as a trampoline.”
She launched herself at me instead, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Merry Christmas,” she said loudly, right in my ear.
“Merry Christmas,” I said, laughing. “You’re vibrating.”
“There are presents,” she said, like it was a secret she had barely managed to keep.
Ethan squinted at her. “You’ve been awake for hours, haven’t you.”
She grinned. “Since it was still dark.”
I pushed myself up, my heart full in a way that felt almost too big for my chest. This was our first Christmas together like this.
Ethan caught my hand as I climbed out of bed, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. The contact was brief, grounding, filled with quiet promise.
Downstairs, the living room glowed with soft lights. The tree stood in the corner, decorated unevenly with ornaments Lily had insisted on placing herself. Paper snowflakes hung crookedly in the windows. Stockings bulged on the mantle.
Lily skidded to a stop in front of the tree and turned to face us, hands clasped behind her back like she was containing herself by sheer will.
“Okay,” she said. “You can sit.”
Ethan and I exchanged a look, settling onto the couch side by side. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders without thinkingabout it anymore. The ease of the gesture still surprised me sometimes.
Lily handed out presents with great ceremony, insisting we open them one at a time. She watched our faces intently, her joy magnified by every smile, every laugh.
She tore into her own gifts; the room filled with squeals and paper and delight.
“This is the best day of my life,” she announced, holding up a book. A sweater she immediately declared perfect.
At one point, she climbed into Ethan’s lap.
Last came a small box.
“This one is for both of you,” she said, suddenly solemn.
Ethan opened it carefully.
Inside was a drawing. Three stick figures holding hands under a crooked tree. One tall. One medium. One with wild hair. Above them, in uneven letters:family.
Ethan went very still.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Lils.”
“Grandpa helped me spell,” she said proudly.
He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. I reached for his arm, my throat tight.
