Page 114

I swing open the door, wreath clattering on its hook, and Beth grins up at me. She’s wearing a beanie and holding a carrier tray filled with three reusable thermos cups. She has a container wedged under her arm, and I spy some sort of marshmallow creation inside.

“Merry Christmas, Gabe.”

“Merry Christmas, Bethy.”

I usher her inside and take the drinks from her as she shucks out of her coat and winter gear. We all went to Midnight Mass last night and decided to have a slow morning before meeting up to celebrate together today.

Even though I saw her less than twelve hours ago, I savor the sight. I meant what I said the night of the Dash. She’s stunning in whatever she wears. This morning, she’s got on leggings with long socks bunched around her ankles. She’s in an oversized sweatshirt. My sweatshirt, and that makes me grin. I gave her an old evergreen crewneck, and she’s paired it with a white turtleneck with a holly-and-ivy appliqué stitched on the collar.

She catches my smile and shoots me a rueful grin. “Yeah, yeah, this is official Gabe McKenzie merch . . . don’t make it a big thing.”

I shake my head. “That’s not official merch, sweetheart. That’s a one-of-a-kind original, just for you.”

She tips her chin up, fighting a smile. “You’re saying I’m the one who gets these goods?”

“One hundred percent.”

She lets her smile free. “Just how I like it.”

I set the drink carrier down so I can wrap her in a hug. “You make it look good.”

She snuggles into me, and I drop a kiss on the crown of her head.

“How was the morning with your grandparents?” I ask. “They’re coming over later?”

She eases away and nods. “They’ll be here for lunch. Jack and Ivy, too.”

I lead her into the living room, where my mom is sitting next to the Christmas tree. Beth crosses the room and gives her a hug before returning for the drinks.

“I brought cocoa. It’s not the same as the café’s, but in a pinch, it’ll do. And marshmallow snowmen and pretzels.”

Beth gets out the little marshmallow men. They’re three stacked marshmallows held together with pretzel sticks for arms and legs. She’s used some sort of icing to draw buttons and faces on the little guys.

My mom beams. “They are so cute!”

“Cute like you,” Beth says under her breath as she hands me one.

“Glad to know I can hold my own against little sugary, roly-poly dudes. I was worried there for a bit.”

“Just keeping you on your toes.” She winks, and I feel it in my gut—an elemental level of happiness, rightness.

The three of us settle in. Carols are playing softly in the background, creating a cheery ambiance. The gas fireplace is pumping out heat. The tree lights are twinkling. We sip on our cocoa, my mom from her chair with her foot propped up on the ottoman, Beth and me on the couch, our sock-clad feet tangled together. It’s so effortless. So natural to be here, the three of us. Like it was always meant to be—Beth as a member of the McKenzie family. I feel a wholeness to me I haven’t felt in a long time . . . maybe ever.

I scooch closer to her on the couch, draping my arm behind her. She rests her head on my shoulder as my mom explains a new recipe Patrice wants to try.

“Sometime in the new year, we’ll roll it out. I dunno, though. I’m a bit nervous. Gruyère mac and cheese? It’s a change from the basic diner food we’ve stuck to in the past.”

“Yeah, but it’s exciting too. Elevated but still true to your roots. I predict you’ll sell out every day. This is Wisconsin. You can’t go wrong with good cheese.”

“Amen,” I agree, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Speaking of business,” my mom says. “I wanted to talk to you about something that’s unfolded rather recently.”

Beth stiffens under my arm, and I start rubbing her shoulder. She and I decided not to exchange gifts this year, but I know my mom has a present of sorts for her, and I can’t wait to hear Beth’s reaction.

“What’s up?” Beth asks.

“Well, I was talking to some of the other business owners at the ball the night of the Dash.”