“I haven’t spoken to her since she left rehab,” Tyler said flatly. “Is she even sober?”
“She seems to be,” Sarah offered gently. “I think she’s really trying this time.” She appeared convinced but I could tell Tyler wasn’t. I could see that pain in his eyes that he often tried to push down when the subject of his mother was brought up.
The silence that followed pressed heavy against my ribs. Of everyone, Tyler was the most reluctant to speak about her, maybe because he’d caught the worst of it. But the thought of him not seeing her on Christmas, of that distance never closing didn’t sit right with me.
“That sounds like a good plan,” I said softly.
His eyes cut to mine, with an unreadable look. I gave him a small smile, sliding my hand onto his under the table.
After a long pause, he nodded. “Sure. We’ll come.”
The whole table seemed to exhale at once.
Later, when the goodbyes were said and Travis promised to pick us up in the morning, Christmas morning, Tyler’s hand found mine again, his grip tight. And I knew. For him, Christmas had never been about celebration. It was about survival.
?After everyone left, we collapsed onto the sofa, completely content after an evening full of good wine and laughter. I stretched out, legs draped across his lap, another glass of Merlot balanced in my hand.
“That was nice,” I murmured lazily, sinking into the plush sofa.
“Yeah.” His head tipped back against the cushions, eyes half-closed. “Didn’t realise how much I’d missed everyone. I’m glad you finally got to meet them.”
“Good news about the baby?” I asked softly.
His lips curved excitedly. “Yeah. Been a long time coming for them. It’s good. I’ll actually be an uncle.”
The warmth in his eyes as he said it made my chest squeeze. There was such a softness to Tyler that I still wasn’t used to being let in on.
“Kind of made me think about when we get to tell them about our own someday?”
“Ha—woah there, Reed.” I laughed, nudging his ribs with my toes. “We’ve got the big Irish wedding first.”
“I know.” He turned his head, leaning down and brushing his lips against my jaw in a feather-light kiss. “But after that? We’re making all the cute-ass babies.”
“Deal,” I whispered, fingertips grazing over the scruff of his stubble, lingering at the mouth that had already ruined me more times than I could count.
A wicked and familiar grin spread across his face. “In the meantime, I promised we’d practice in every damn room of this house.”
I arched a brow, tilting my glass toward him. “How about we start right here?”
He slid his hand higher on my thigh, took the glass clean from my grip and set it aside, eyes locked on mine.
“Buckle up, Mrs. Reed. Couch is just the beginning.”
Chapter 54
Tyler
If you’d toldme this time last year that I’d be waking up on Christmas morning in Malibu with my wife curled into my chest, I’d have laughed you out of the room. But here I was, and I’d never felt more complete in my life.
She was dead asleep against me, her breath warm on my skin. I could’ve stayed like that for hours, just watching her, memorizing every inch of her. Falling in love all over again with every steady rise and fall of her chest. Those perfect lips, that strong, beautiful body which somehow was mine now, my whole damn world right here in our bed.
And yeah, my thoughts went there. To the future. To Christmas mornings full of chaos and our little ones piling onto our bed. To building something here that I never had growing up. My throat went dry with it, with everything I was feeling. Love so fierce it scared the hell out of me, and the kind of want that made my body tighten, aching to make it real.
The sun was already up, spilling pale Malibu light across the room, the warmth seeping in through the glass. She stirred against me when I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” I murmured.
“Mmm… Merry Christmas, husband,” she croaked back in that groggy morning voice that made me melt for her.
