Page 91 of Honorable Sins

Santa mugs for the camera. "Make sure you get my good side."

"You don't have one," Fitz deadpans.

"That's not very Christmasy."

"Neither are board shorts."

Santa sighs dramatically. "Tough crowd."

"I want to go to Disneyland like my friend Joy," Cormac announces.

My heart skips a beat. Of course, he does. I haven't had a chance to bring up the possibility to Mick. Taking Fitz to the fair when he was five was a security nightmare Mick only told me about later, but he did it.

I look hopefully at my husband who winks at me and then gives Santa a miniscule inclination of his head in affirmative.

Santa nods solemnly. "Excellent choice."

Cormac is grinning when he climbs off Santa's lap. "Did you hear that mom? Santa's going to get us Disneyland."

"I heard." I give Mick a questioning glance.

Did he mean it? His barely-there curve at the corner of his lips tells me it's going to be fine. That he did mean it. That what Fitz went through isn't going to change what Mick is willing to do to give his children as happy of a childhood a mob underboss-soon-to-be-boss can.

I let my own smile take over my face. I've never been to a theme park. I might be as excited at the prospect as the kids, who are all talking a mile a minute.

Except Sorcha. Tucked into the corner of the sofa furthest from Santa, she's observing her siblings in silence.

Finally, Mavie remembers she needs to ask Santa for what she wants and climbs into his lap. "I wants cookies for breakfast."

Santa laughs, "Ho. Ho. Ho."

Mick shakes his head. "Even Santa can't override your mam about cookies for breakfast, Mavie-love. Try again."

Mavie screws her face up in thought and then a grin breaks across her features. "I wants a mermaid tail."

Our daughter scoots off his lap before Santa can comment on that one and runs over to her sister where a whispered conversation ensues.

"What about you, young man?" Summer Santa asks Fitz. "What do you want for Christmas in July?"

"I want you to put the FBI on your naughty list," Fitz says with a smirk.

That startles a real laugh out of Santa.

After he solemnly acknowledges that Sorcha wants another one something (his guess is as good as mine on what that something is) and promises to check his summer inventory for one, Santa bids us all a Merry Christmas in July and leaves.

"Another what?" I ask Sorcha, handing her a frozen cocoa.

"Santa knows."

Mick's arm slides around me and he whispers in my ear. "Don't get fashed about it, mo chroí, we'll figure it out."

Just like we figure out so many things. Together.

Besides, we have a secret weapon. We have Mavie.

A few minutes later we're all piled onto the sectional. Individual bowls of popcorn handed out. Mavie curls against my side. Cormac sprawls against Mick.

Sorcha sits next to Mavie, cocoa balanced carefully in both hands, bowl of popcorn ignored on the coffee table.