Page 90 of Honorable Sins

Technically, Santa has just been escorted through the gate, but he'll be outside our apartment door soon enough.

"On it." Setting his phone screen side down on the coffee table, Mick stands and heads down the hall to the bedrooms.

I hear running feet before the knock comes. Wearing red candy cane pajamas, Cormac barrels into the room first and sniffs the air. "Is that popcorn?"

"Yep."

He grins and makes a beeline for the big bowl. I grab him around the waist and twirl away from the coffee table. "Not so fast, buddy. What's the rule?"

"No popcorn until the movie starts," Fitz answers for his brother, his preteen cool belying the fact that he used to be the one who couldn't wait to grab his first handful.

"Aww, mom!" Cormac grumbles.

Ruffling his hair, I let him go. "Patience is a virtue."

"No, it's not."

I laugh.

Sorcha and Mavie arrive next, holding hands. Sorcha is carrying a neatly folded blanket while a stuffed rabbit dangles from Mavie's fist by one long ear.

The knock at the door catches all the children's attention.

"Who's that?" Cormac demands, his body vibrating like a plucked tuning fork.

"It's a surprise." Grinning I head to the door, unsurprised when Mick beats me to it and waits for the secondary knock from our security man outside before he opens it.

Mick opens the door.

Summer Santa stands there holding a festive Christmas tray with six mason jars, straws striped like candy canes sticking out of them. Three are bigger and three are smaller, sized just right for little hands. They're all filled with what looks like milkshakes, but are in fact frozen cocoa.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa lifts the tray. "I brought frozen cocoa straight from the North Pole."

Cormac lets out a delighted yell.

Mavie's eyes go wide with delight and Sorcha takes a step backward, dropping her sister's hand.

"You didn't come from the North Pole dressed like that," Fitz says.

Summer Santa's snowy white hair and beard are the only traditional things about him. A Hawaiian shirt in bright green with red hibiscus flowers and board shorts replace the traditional red suit. Instead of black shiny boots, his feet are shod with sandals.

Santa points at him. "You caught me. The elves are on vacation with me and they made it in Mrs. Clause's kitchen."

Fitz snorts.

Cormac and Mavie are already tugging him inside. "Come in!"

I rescue the tray of drinks from his grip before Cormac's hold on his arm makes him tip them onto the carpet. Mick takes it from me and sets it on the coffee table, his eyes filled with warm humor.

He's not smiling. He's too alert around strangers for that kind of softening, but I can see what others outside our little family don't.

Mick the doting da.

Mavie and Cormac drag Santa across the room to an armchair beside the tree.

As soon as he sits down, our almost four-year-old climbs onto his lap and starts peppering Santa with questions about the North Pole and how many elves go with him on vacation.

Fitz stands off to one side taking pictures with his phone, seemingly as into our family movie night as his younger siblings. If in a very preteen way.