“Is this okay?”
God, the man was sensitive. “It’s fine. I’m just juggling presents so I can unlock the door or ring the bell.”
Devon nodded, and he saw that pan of rolls begin totremble as Devon’s fingers tightened. Then he lowered his voice, “If you want, I can tell them I’m on call.”
“What? No, of course not.” He wasn’t ashamed of Devon. He’d just been having so much fun goofing off, eating cinnamon rolls and drinking hot cocoa, and watching cartoons. They’d even made love. It had been the perfect morning.
Then they’d gone to Raven’s family, and it was another perfect moment. No familial stress on either side.
So this was like…was it gonna suck? “I’m not worried about you, baby. Not one bit. I love you.” Laird rang the bell with his elbow.
“I love you too.” Devon’s words sounded as Mom opened the door, little Savannah in her arms, kicking and wiggling in a bright red Christmas dress and a pair of white tights.
“Well, I’m very glad to hear that. Come on in, guys!” Mom chuckled as she opened the door wider. “Merry Christmas. You’re just in time.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. McCallum. The house looks amazing.”
Every time Devon went over, he said the same thing to his mother. “Happy whatever, Mrs. McCallum. The house looks amazing, Mrs. McCallum.”
“Merry Christmas!” Laird winked at her and then took a bunch of presents to the tree.
Mhairi was sitting with her husband and Dad. Mhairi and Dad were watching football, while Jason was doing a jigsaw puzzle on a large card table.
Mhairi glanced up and grinned. “You made it! Just in time for family pictures, which is great because if Savannah doesn’t get that dress off soon, she’s gonna have a conniption.” Mhairi stood, gave him a hug, andthen gave Devon a hug of his own. “How are you doing? I can see your baby bump.”
“Mhairi, don’t be rude. We don’t discuss other people’s bodies,” Mom said, and Mhairi rolled her eyes.
“Mom, he’s had his entire hand in my body delivering a baby. I can talk about his baby bump.”
Laird cracked up, and so did Dad. Jason just stood there with huge eyes. Devon held on to his little bag of knitting that he brought everywhere he went so that he didn’t have idle hands.
Mom’s mouth opened and closed like she was a big fish. Then she just handed Mhairi the baby, turned her back, and left the room.
“Wow.” Laird looked at his sister. “Has she been like that all day?”
“Menopause. It sucks. She’s gone from screaming to crying to screaming to crying at least eighty-seven times. It’s miserable.”
“Milk thistle,” Devon murmured. “It’ll help a lot.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll tell her when she’s talking to me again.” Mhairi snorted. “Come on in, Devon, and sit down. We don’t stand on ceremony, you know that.”
“Devon!” Dad came over to hug him and then wrapped an arm around Devon, steering him toward the couch. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I would love something if you have Sprite or maybe milk?”
Dad nodded easily. “We have both. Which would you prefer?”
Relief painted Devon’s futures. “I would love the milk if you don’t mind. I think it will help feed the baby whatever it is they’re craving.”
“Excellent! I’ll be right back.” Dad wandered off.Presumably to check on Mom more than anything. And Laird got Devon settled on the couch with a little blanket over his knees. Devon had been feeling the cold a lot.
Mhairi put little Savannah down on the sofa, snapped a bunch of pictures with her phone, and then stripped the stiff, velvet dress off the baby, replacing it with a soft, fuzzy outfit.
“So, how is it going with all of that?” Mhairi waved her hand in front of her belly, grinning at Devon.
Devon pulled out his knitting, his needles starting to clack together as he worked the yarn without even looking down at it. “Good, it’s going good,” he muttered. His cheeks were pink, and he kept shooting glances at Laird.
Laird understood. Devon wanted to know when they were going to tell his parents. He just wanted everybody to be back in the same room before he did.
