As tradition dictatedin the Evans family, we attended midnight Mass. When we returned home, mugs of hot chocolate and plates of cookies were passed around, along with glasses of milk, as everyone thawed out from the winter night.
After gathering in the family room, we settled around the enormous Christmas tree where the gifts had been arranged beneath its glowing branches. The children opened their presents first, followed by the adults. Christmas carols played softly in the background, wrapping the room in warmth and nostalgia.
Then Randall looked at me and smiled. “Why don’t you go and open your gifts?”
Surprised, I walked toward the tree.
Myname was written on several tags.
Everyone watched as I knelt and opened them. One by one, beautiful clothing, expensive jewellery, and elegant shoes emerged. Each gift made my chest clench.
My own gifts to them suddenly felt small, inadequate—almost embarrassing in comparison.
“I’m sorry,” I fumbled, looking around at the expectant faces. “I mean—thank you. Thank you so much, but I just can’t accept this.” My voice trembled despite my effort to steady it. “This is way too much. I truly appreciate everything you bought Lucas, but I honestly can’t keep these. It’s too much.”
My eyes pleaded with them to understand.
Sophia stepped forward and leaned close, her voice gentle. “This is nothing,” she whispered before wrapping me in a hug. “What you’ve done for Dad and Caleb is worth far more than all of this.”
My nose prickled as emotion surged. I smiled and thanked her sincerely.
Unfortunately, I didn’t miss Eleanor’s reaction. Her eyes burned into me, radiating distrust. My stomach knotted painfully.
After everyone had time to enjoy their presents, I decided it was best to call it a night. I thanked everyone sincerely before Lucas and I headed toward our room. Caleb walked with us.
When we entered, a large red box tied with a gold ribbon sat waiting.
Lucas clapped his hands excitedly. “Mama, is this my surprise?”
Caleb chuckled. “Lucas, this one is actually for your mom.”
I turned toward him, my eyebrows lifting in question.
“She doesn’t get to open it today,” he added. “Only on New Year’s, when you come back here. It’s a surprise.” He winked. “Merry Christmas.”
After he left, I tucked the gift into the closet, just in case curiosity tempted me too much.
Once Lucas was snug in bed, I kissed his forehead and backed out of the room, only to find Caleb waiting in the hallway. He held the gifts I had left out before church, one in each hand: a monogrammed Montblanc wallet and a framed black-and-white photo of him with Lucas.
“Thank you,” he said, emotion thick in his voice. “These are the best gifts I’ve ever received.”
“You’re welc?—”
He surprised me into silence, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around me—something more than a friendly hug, yet less than a lover’s embrace.
I froze for half a heartbeat.
Then I melted.
I slid my arms around him, my cheek resting against his chest. The solid warmth of him evoked long forgotten memories—the blissfully reassuring safety of holding and being held by a man. Of beingchosen, even if only in this moment.
My blood heated, rushing to my fingertips, my toes. I had been in his arms before, on the dance floor, but this felt different.
“You must really like Montblanc,” I murmured, trying to sound light.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let go completely. His hands remained at my sides, and his gaze intensified more intimately than the embrace.
“This,” he said, gently taking my hand. He placed the framed photo between our joined palms, our fingers threading together naturally. “I don’t think I have the words to explain what this makes me feel.”
