He knew the answer to that. Not happening. Anything to have some rare alone time.
“How about a story first?” Killian sat her next to him. “Let Mummy find her morning head.”
Eliza giggled. She took after her father and liked mornings. I was hoping that this didn’t carry on to when she was a teenager so I could enact revenge.
“’Anta book.” She pointed at the bedside table whereThe Jolly Christmas Santawas parked from last night. It had been her favourite for the last few weeks, since the Christmas trees had gone up in the shops and Christmas songs had been on.
“Okay. Let’s read this, then brush your teeth and wash your face, then we’ll see if he’s been.” Killian settled her closer, now in full dad mode, which unfortunately was a complete turn on.
“Then pwesents?”
“Then you have to wake up Uncle Seph, Auntie Ava, Uncle Max and Uncle Jackson. And Uncle Shay. And Auntie Maven, Auntie Lainey, Auntie Immy and Auntie Catrin. When they’re all in the kitchen, you can open any presents Santa has left.” Killian’s voice contained just the right amount of evilness.
“Maybe not Payton. Or Jacks.”
“Disagree. They need the practice. Maybe Payts needs a bit more sleep but Owen doesn’t. But she can start with Seph first.” He opened the book and started to read the story, pointing out the pictures and asking her questions about colours and the characters.
I closed my eyes for a few more minutes, listening to the lull of his voice and the sweet sound of our daughter as she spoke back to him and asked questions.
By the time they’d finished, my mood was less black and I was ready to face what would be a busy day.
“Are you ready for teeth and face, Ellie?” Although she was Eliza, it had been shortened to Ellie by Margot, one of the twins, and it had stuck.
She didn’t have a choice in the matter, which she knew because on the odd occasion where she’d refused, she’d found she had a mother who was far more stubborn.
Teeth done, face washed, something warmer than pyjamas, and with Killian wearing sweatpants which meant we would be heading back to the bedroom and leaving Eliza with her Uncle Seph in the next two hours, we headed into the kitchen and the big family area with the tree, now surrounded with more presents than there had been last night.
Plus a pair of my eldest brother’s jeans, his underwear and a T-shirt that I didn’t want to touch.
“Looks like someone got lucky.” Killian had Eliza on his shoulders, which was great as I did not want her touching my brother’s clothes.
“Can’t we say he was covered in fleas or something and had to strip. That would sit far better in my mind.” I caught sight of the sofa, the cushions disturbed and flattened. “Eliza, shall we go and wake up Uncle Max? But we have to do it very carefully and let Auntie Vic sleep longer.” I had a sudden inkling as to why they might’ve christened the room, and if Victoria was pregnant she deserved to stock up on sleep now.
Max, however, did not.
“I can see pwesents.” Eliza looked up at me, still clutching Killian. Her fingers were about to tangle into his beard.
“We can only open them when everyone who wants to be up, is up.” It seemed a fair thing to say. I knew my dad and Marie would sulk if they weren’t awake when Eliza started to yank off paper, and that Payton and Ava would be the same. Seph would be devastated if he didn’t see her face when she unwrapped the toy kitchen he’d bought for her – although we’d already had words about how the hell we were going to get it back home. He was meant to hire a van, which we’d probably need to do to get the toyshop full of gifts to London.
“Unkie Max?” She pointed towards the hall.
“Let’s wake Uncle Max. But no jumping on Auntie Vic.” I glanced at Killian who just raised his brows.
He was just as understated now as he had been back when we first met, when I was a teenager and he’d started hanging round with Maxwell at university. Some days I did wonder how he coped with my frenetic kind of crazy, but he never tried to dampen it.
Killian was my rock, my anchor and, without doubt, my soul mate, if I believed in such things. As much as I knew he adored me, I knew I adored him more – although he’d shake his head and laugh at that if I was to tell.
He walked Eliza down to Max’s room, the grandfather clock that Marie had shipped over from New York when she moved here showing that it was just before seven; a pretty reasonable hour to be up on Christmas Day. Next year, we’d be up earlier, either with a teething baby or an excited three-year-old or both.
Putting Eliza down first, he pressed a finger to his lips to warn her to be silent. “Pretend you’re waking theGruffalo.”
Her face beamed with excitement. Max had acted as theGruffaloa couple of times, her sneaking up on him and him turning around and trying to scare the bejeezus out of her. She’d run away giggling, the sort of giggle that you knew would end in tears before bedtime.
I hoped Max had that close on his horizon – not the tears before bedtime, but the little girl or boy to read stories to, to look after and care for. He’d done it with Callum, more of a father than a brother to Cal even after our father realised that the office wasn’t the centre of the world. Seeing him with his own was something we all wanted, because we knew how much it would mean to him.
Killian pushed open the door and peered through first, holding Eliza back, probably checking that everyone was decent. He put his finger to his lips again and opened the door further, gesturing for her to go in.
I moved as quickly as my pregnant ass would allow so I could see Eliza fully jump on Max’s side of the bed and yell ‘boo!’ at full volume, loud enough for Payton to hear next door.
