A Bonus Christmas Special Chapter - Out of Context

A bunch of random silly scenes, including almost everyone, just for fun xD

"Let's be naughty and save Santa the trip."

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Lilly's POV

"Out of everyone in the house, you're the one preparing the eggnog?" Dad asked, his voice dripping with skepticism as he leaned against the kitchen counter, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at me and the task at hand as I stirred the ingredients over the stove.

I smiled and nodded, "Yes, I make a killer eggnog, trust me," I said, assuringly as I added a teaspoon of cinnamon and resumed stirring. Dad scoffed at the trust me part and I paused in my stirring to face him. My eyebrow raised at how he eyed every move I made, making sure I didn't mess up this very simple task.

He sighed, "Okay, whatever, just don't add any alcohol," He said and Mom chimed in while carefully arranging gingerbread cookies on a festive plate shaped like a reindeer's face, "Yes, I promised everyone that it would be an alcohol-free evening," She added, her lips pressing into a thin line, "Apparently, we are not young anymore," She said, her voice dropping low and disliking that fact very much.

Dad's eyebrow raised as he faced her, "Speak for yourself," He said and Mom rolled her eyes at his unwillingness to ever grow up.

Siding with Mom, I pointed my hand at Dad's hair, fake gasping, "Dad, oh my god, is that a new white hair over there?"

His eyes widened in horror and he pulled his phone out and opened the front camera, he checked where I pointed at, and when he found nothing, he shot me one hell of a glare, "One day I am gonna sue the condom company for that broken one that made you," He grumbled and I smiled, throwing him a flying kiss, "Love you too, pops."

He glared at me still, his eyes drifting to mom, who was fighting her smile at what I said, "I only have three white hairs," He stated, "One caused by your mother," He said, pointing at her and she gasped at the audacity, "One because of my very unpleasant brother," Then he looked at me, "And one because of you, of course."

My lips parted and I gaped at him. I lowered the heat under the eggnog so as not to ruin my recipe and focused my attention on him. Right then, Max walked into the kitchen, he leisurely made his way to the counter and picked one of the gingerbread cookies Mom made, he took a large bite before he pushed himself up the counter, sitting there, enjoying his cookie as he looked at us and tried to understand what we were discussing.

I pointed at Max, "What about him?" I asked, still very offended. Why did he not occupy a place in causing Dad's so-called white hairs?

Max looked ever so confused, "What about me?" He asked as he innocently chewed on his cookie.

Dad stepped closer and wrapped an arm around Max's shoulder, "This one? He's perfect. He's the best among all of you," He said, looking between me and Mom, "He's the only one that I love in this house," Max's lips pulled up into a smile, crumbs still stuck to his cheek, he looked so confused but so very happy at the appreciation he received.

Dad threw Max a wink and ruffled his hair before he pulled away and headed out of the kitchen, urging Mom to follow and help him finish wrapping up the presents.

"Did I just get praised for doing absolutely nothing?" Max asked as he pushed himself off the counter and came closer to my side.

I shot him a glare, "Yeah, how does it feel to be so perfect?" I mocked and he shrugged, "A bit exhausting," He sighed dramatically, "But what can I do."

I rolled my eyes at him and he dipped his finger into the eggnog and licked it. I slapped his hand away and he grimaced, "Are we really gonna have an alcohol-free eggnog?" He said, not satisfied with the taste.

My lips twitched and I wiggled my eyebrows, "Definitely not."

I checked over my shoulder like I was about to commit the heist of the century. Bending down, I opened the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of dark rum. Max's eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning, "You're really spiking the eggnog?" he asked, his voice barely containing his laughter.

I grinned, pouring a generous amount into the pot, "Yes, exactly."

He leaned against the counter, watching me with mock admiration, "So, essentially, you're drugging the elderly."

I tapped the spoon against the pot, grinning as I extended it toward him to taste. He raised an eyebrow, then smirked as I clinked another spoon against his in a makeshift toast, "Yup, that's the holiday spirit. Merry Christmas, Max!"

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I watched as Chase lifted the cup to his lips, the golden glow of the Christmas tree's lights catching on the rim. Just as the eggnog brushed his mouth, I darted forward, my hand clamping over his wrist, "Wait—you're not flying anywhere soon, are you?" I whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.

Chase's brows furrowed, his gaze darting between me and the suspiciously rich cup of eggnog. "No, I'm off until next week. Why?" His head tilted, clearly confused. "It's non-alcoholic, right? What's the problem?"

A guilty grin spread across my face, "Yeah, about that..." I trailed off, shaking my head. "It's definitely not alcohol-free."

His eyebrow raised, and I smiled, sheepishly. Chase let out a low chuckle, his hand abandoning the cup to slide around my shoulders. He tugged me close, the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the space between us. "You're unbelievable," he murmured, his lips brushing my temple before he reclaimed his drink.

Taking a slow sip, he hummed in approval, the sound deep and warm. "Not bad. Criminal, but not bad," Before I could reply, he tipped the cup toward me, pressing the edge gently to my lips. I took a small sip, the smooth, spiced warmth spreading through my chest. Hmmm. Perfect.

Chase leaned down, his voice low against my ear. "So, what's the plan now, partner-in-crime?"

I smirked and nodded toward the living room, where our family members were scattered around, "We sit back, relax, and enjoy the chaos. Give it twenty minutes—tops."

Chase shook his head, his smile softening, "You're diabolical."

"Maybe," I said, picking up my cup and raising it in a mock toast. "But isn't that what the holidays are for?"

"Well," he said, clinking his cup with mine, "Merry Christmas, my chaotic girl."

"And to you, my loyal accomplice," I teased back as I pecked his cheek.

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Alex's POV

"We talked and decided that you three need to dress up as Santa this year."

Katherine's declaration hung in the air like a snowball ready to hit someone in the face. I wanted to laugh—really laugh—but the serious expressions on their faces had my heart racing instead. They're serious. Dead serious.

My gaze darted to my right, meeting Ashton's confused expression, before sliding to Nikolas, who looked equally appalled. For once, we were all in silent agreement: this was a disaster waiting to happen.

Nikolas cleared his throat, setting his cup down with all the gravitas of someone about to deliver groundbreaking news, "Okay, before we even think about agreeing to this—because, let's face it, we always end up agreeing to your insane ideas—," He grumbled in annoyance, "I think we can all agree that out of the three of us, I am not Santa Claus material."

His brow furrowed as he gestured vaguely at himself, as though his brooding, six-foot-something, grumpy frame was evidence enough.

Cara, perched on the armrest, shot her hand up enthusiastically, "Yeah, I agree!" she exclaimed, her cheeks suspiciously pink, her words slightly too loud, and her balance...questionable.

I squinted at her, something about her seemed off. Was her speech always this slurred? Were her hand gestures always this dramatic? My gaze drifted to her empty eggnog cup, and then to my own. Come to think of it, I was feeling unusually...relaxed. Suspiciously so. The warmth of the room felt amplified, the twinkling Christmas lights were practically sparkling, and my anxiety over the Santa thing was melting away like snow on a sunny day.

I sniffed my drink, trying to detect anything unusual, but the mix of nutmeg and cinnamon masked any clues. Huh. Maybe this was just the magic of the holidays?

Nikolas nodded his head, "See, I have one supporter, who else?" He turned to me, asking for help and I just shook my head, "No way," I said as I sipped on my drink, enjoying the taste, "If I am getting humiliated, so will you."

"Actually, Nik is right," Natalie interjected, always siding with her husband. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes but then she added, "Those who want Nik to dress up as the Grinch, raise their hands!" She added, raising her hand ever so excitedly, full of childlike glee.

Cara shot her hand up so fast I thought it might detach, "Yes! Yes, that's perfect," she cheered, nearly toppling her cup in her enthusiasm. I needed to go and sit by her side, and ground her before she tripped and fell but I am questionably way too relaxed to move.

I smiled, raising my hand as well, "Now, that I support."

Katherine joined us in the raised hands squad and Nikolas grumbled something under his breath, probably cursing us in Italian or something. All of our gazes fell on the one other person who hadn't raised his hand yet. My eyebrow raised at Ashton, urging him to push his hand up before I removed him from my close friend's list.

His gaze flickered from me to the three crazy women in our lives who were clearly running the show. He shook his head. "I don't agree," he said, leaning forward, bringing his hand up, and tapping it over Nikolas's back. "I am with him on this; no Santas or Grinches. End of discussion."

"Traitor," Katherine grumbled at him. Cara shot him a glare, "Bimbo indeed," she mumbled under her breath, using my very own picked nickname. God, she is long gone, isn't she...

Ashton pulled his hand away from Nikolas, his eyebrows pulling closer as he gazed at his hand, as if not understanding his very own actions. Then, he picked up his cup and inched it closer to his nose, "This eggnog is spiked, I am sure," he announced.

I took another sip, still unable to taste the alcohol, "How are you sure?"

"I just took Nikolas's side; I am either drunk or losing my mind," Ashton commented. Nikolas's previous gratitude flipped into a hard glare, and he shoved Ashton away.

I turned my head to Lilly at the far end, who was fully awake, curled up next to Chase and intently watching us. Once my gaze fell on her, she pretended to be sleeping, instantly dropping her head over Chase's shoulder and shutting her eyes. She even exaggerated a fake snore. I rolled my eyes at her lame attempt. Chase noticed her fake act and cleared his throat, "She's so tired," He mumbled ever so softly, moving a hand and stroking her hair.

I rolled my eyes, deciding not to waste my energy on their antics. Instead, I turned my attention back to Ashton, who was now staring intently at a gingerbread man. He bit off its head and then frowned at it with an almost philosophical intensity.

"Why are gingerbread men called men?" He asked, out of the blue as he chewed on the snack, "Like, do they know they're men? What if they're gingerbread...entities?"

Cara blinked, clearly trying to follow his logic and failing spectacularly. "Wow," she said, utterly astonished, before she turned to me. Oh god, my cupcakes was so drunk already. How many cups did she drink? "Alex, do you think gingerbread men have gender identity?"

Nikolas groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face as he went back to the main topic, "Can we just agree that I'm not wearing anything green and call it a night?"

"Absolutely not," Natalie said, grinning ever so happily, "You're definitely getting a full Grinch costume," She edged closer and pinched his cheek, "You'll look so adorable."

Lilly, who was asleep a minute ago, decided to wake up. She got up to her feet and walked closer to us, "Uhm, you all seem to forget one very important fact," She said, grabbing all of our attention to her.

From the pile of decorations, she plucked a red Santa hat and held it aloft like it was Excalibur. "He's called Santa," she began, her tone theatrical, "but he also goes by Saint Nicholas. Saint. Nick," She clarified as she pointed at Nikolas, addressing the similarity in the names.

She turned to Nikolas with a grin that could only be described as pure mischief and plopped the hat onto his head with an overdramatic flourish. It tilted slightly, and the little white pom-pom bobbed with every movement.

Nikolas froze, glaring up at her like she'd just handed him a lump of coal. His glare then swept over the rest of us, daring someone—anyone—to laugh. Naturally, Ashton snorted first, followed by me and then the rest.

He sighed ever so dramatically, sinking into the cushion with crossed arms, the red hat still on his head, "I hate you all," he grumbled.

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Cara shut the door with a click, the sound echoing in the quiet room as she twisted the lock. She leaned against the door for a moment, her breath uneven, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkling with utter mischief.

Her gaze landed on me, and I narrowed my eyes back at her, trying to decipher the mix of emotions dancing on her face. That smile—the one she wore now—was lopsided, utterly drunk, and entirely too beautiful for her own good.

Slowly, she began unbuttoning her red shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly but determined. I couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out of me, throwing my head back as I watched her with amused disbelief.

"What are you doing?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well," she drawled, her voice slurring just enough to ruin the seduction she was clearly aiming for, "I've been a very naughty girl this year." She took an unsteady step forward, her bare feet sliding slightly on the rug. One button popped open with each step, though it took her longer than it should have to manage them. "And since you're going to be Santa, you should punish me...don't you think?"

She was swaying so much that I stood up to meet her halfway.

Her movements were so uncoordinated, like her brain was a few steps ahead of her body. She stumbled closer, pausing with a triumphant little smirk when she finally finished unbuttoning her shirt.

I reached out, steadying her by the waist before she could face-plant into the ground, "Cupcakes, you're so drunk," I said, grinning as I pulled her closer. Her body melted into mine, though her balance was still questionable at best.

She nodded eagerly, "Yeah, and I've been your wife for, like...how many years now?" she slurred, her eyes narrowing as though she was calculating, "So, go ahead, take advantage of me. It's your duty."

I chuckled before wrapping an arm firmly around her waist to keep her standing, "You are absolutely ridiculous," I murmured, lowering my head so my lips brushed against her cheek, "But who am I to argue with such logic?"

Her triumphant giggle quickly turned into a low gasp as I tilted her chin up with my free hand, angling her face just so. I let my lips brush against hers, teasing and soft at first, before pressing harder, tasting the sweetness of spiked eggnog and her warmth. Her hands slid clumsily up my chest, clutching at my sweater like it was the only thing holding her up.

My hand found her cheek, cupping it gently as I pulled back just enough to take her in. She blinked up at me, her eyes glassy with intoxicated happiness, her lips curving into a lazy, sleepy smile.

I smiled back, leaning in again, ready to claim another kiss, but her smile wavered. Her brow furrowed into a look of pure discomfort.

"Oh no," she mumbled, her hand covering her mouth, "I...I don't feel so good."

Before I could react, she stumbled out of my arms, staggering toward the bathroom and I instantly went after her, part worried and part just so amused at the ridiculousness of this situation.

By the time I reached her, she was already leaning over the toilet. I crouched beside her, gently pulling her hair back with one hand while the other rested on her back, rubbing it gently.

Her groan of defeat was muffled, and I couldn't help the wry smile tugging at my lips. "So, maybe the extra cup of eggnog wasn't your best idea?"

She shot me a sideways glare, though her face was too tired to be truly threatening. When she finally straightened, swaying slightly, I helped her up and guided her to the sink. I helped her wash her face and grabbed a towel, dabbing at her damp cheeks as her hair tumbled around her face in messy, festive chaos.

Her pinker-than-usual cheeks and disheveled hair made her look utterly adorable, and I couldn't suppress the low chuckle that escaped me.

She narrowed her eyes at me, her lips forming a perfect pout. "Don't laugh at me," she whined, her voice wobbling between indignation and exhaustion. "It's not funny."

"It's a little funny," I teased.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "For the record," she muttered, "I'm still a naughty girl. Just...temporarily out of commission."

I chuckled, leaning closer and kissing the top of her head, "Don't worry. Santa's keeping tabs. You'll get your punishment...eventually."

She moved into my embrace, her arms slipping around my waist as she nestled her head against my chest with a contented sigh, "Did you like the watch I got you?" she asked, her voice so soft and sleepy it almost got lost in the quiet.

I smiled, running my fingers through her hair as I kissed the top of her head. "I loved it," I said, my voice gentle, "But you know that you are the most perfect Christmas gift I could ever ask for."

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Ashton's POV

"So," Katherine began, hands perched on her hips, her eyes gleaming—the kind that spelled nothing but trouble. She stood in the middle of the room, swaying slightly, though it might've just been my own intoxicated brain making everything tilt like a badly hung Christmas ornament.

"Let's make a deal," She added.

"Go ahead," I said, gesturing lazily from where I sat at the edge of the bed. Whatever she was about to say, I already knew it was going to be ridiculous.

Her lips curved into a sly smile as she sauntered over to the closet, pulling out the dress. The red, figure-hugging Christmas dress I'd been begging her to wear for weeks. She held it up, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I'd won.

"I'll wear this," she said, and I could hear the reluctance in her voice. My lips immediately tugged into a victorious grin.

"And?" I prompted, already sensing the catch.

"And," she drawled, rolling her eyes with exaggerated annoyance, "I'll even play Mrs. Claus for you," She held the dress aloft like she was presenting a truce, "But on one condition."

"Let's hear it," I said, crossing my arms, already bracing for whatever storm she was about to unleash.

Her smile turned wicked as she tossed the dress onto the bed, "You have to wear something for me, too," she said, her tone daring me to protest.

My eyebrows pulled closer and my smile dropped down. I shook my head, "Now way, I am not having sex with you dressed up as Santa!"

"Ewww, no!" she exclaimed, looking scandalized as if I'd just suggested something unholy, "Who even fantasizes about Santa? Gross. That's for people with serious daddy issues," She shuddered dramatically, "A jolly old man with a belly? Not on my list, thank you very much."

"Then, what is it?" I asked.

She didn't answer. Instead, her grin widened as she threw the dress on the bed and darted out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. I stared after her, equal parts wary and curious, until she returned moments later, holding up—oh, no.

It took me a second, maybe longer, to process what she had in her hands. My eyebrow raised as my gaze flickered from the outfit to her expression.

"Absolutely not," I grumbled, leaning back on my hands, "No way in hell am I wearing that."

"I'd rather dress up as Santa," I added, pointing out the absurdity of the situation she was forcing on us.

Her lips curled into a pout, "Come on," She whined.

"Katherine, that's Chase's pilot uniform, I am not wearing it," I shot back at her crazy mind, "That's sick. There is no universe where this is okay," I added.

Her frown deepened, "But it'll look so good on you," She mumbled, the pout persistent on her lips.

"But it's your son's uniform!" I pointed out again, "Our son."

Her pout deepened as she tossed the uniform onto the bed with exaggerated annoyance. "Fine," she huffed. "It's not like Chase is the only pilot in the world. But way to ruin my fantasy. I've always wanted to do it with a pilot, and you've totally killed the vibe now."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing, "I can't believe we're having this conversation. You're insane."

"Yeah, well, you're no fun," she muttered, snatching the red dress off the bed and marching back to the closet. "And now I'm not wearing this, either. Deal's off."

"Good," I shot back, glaring at her.

She turned to glare at me, her hands on her hips again, mimicking my tone, "Good!" she snapped.

With a dramatic huff, she marched to the dresser and changed into her Christmas pajamas—the ones covered in gingerbread entities that looked like they were mid-dance. She tossed the pilot uniform onto the couch, pulled the duvet up, and climbed into bed, muttering what I could only assume were curse words under her breath.

I stood there for a moment, watching her burrow into the covers like an angry elf. I shook my head at her ridiculousness. Sliding in beside her, I stole a glance as she pulled out her phone and started scrolling, doing her absolute best to pretend I didn't exist.

I nudged her arm with my elbow. She didn't give me a reaction.

I nudged her again. She scooted further toward the edge of the bed, grumbling under her breath.
Not one to be deterred, I followed, scooting closer until there was no space left between us.

"Stop it," she grumbled, twisting around to shoot me a hard glare.

Her pout, combined with her gingerbread pajamas and the fiery indignation in her eyes, was so ridiculously adorable that my lips twitched despite my best effort to stay serious.

"You know," I said, leaning closer, my voice low and teasing, "if we're going to have sex the traditional route here, we wouldn't need any outfits at all. Quite the opposite, actually."

She flashed me a very unimpressed look before letting out an exaggerated huff and pointedly refocusing on her phone like I wasn't even there.

I sighed loudly before I leaned over to the couch. My hand found the pilot's hat she'd tossed aside in her little tantrum. Sitting back up, I plopped it on my head, adjusting it with mock seriousness before turning to face her, "Happy now?" I grumbled, raising an eyebrow.

She finally looked at me, her eyes narrowing for a second before her lips betrayed her, twitching upward until she couldn't hold back the giggle bubbling up. She tossed her phone aside and shuffled closer, the grin on her face nothing short of triumphant. "See? You look so hot," she said, like she'd just won the argument of the century.

"I am always hot," I pointed out.

She rolled her eyes at me, "Shut up and kiss me," She said.

Well, who was I to deny such a request? I reached out, pulling her into my arms, my lips finding hers. Her arms wound around my neck as she shifted onto my lap, her body fitting against mine like it was always meant to.

I moved, flipping us so she was sprawled out on the mattress beneath me. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she looked up, her lips already curving into trouble. She brought her hand up, cupping my cheek, "So, Mr. Pilot, let's be naughty," She said, "You know, save Santa the trip and all," she quipped, being a little minx as usual.

I couldn't help the laugh that erupted from me, "You're completely insane," I said, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

She nodded, "You knew that when you married me."

I kissed her again, smiling as I whispered, "That I did."

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Nikolas's POV

"Your hat is so cute," Ronald said, his voice dripping with barely restrained laughter, "Very fitting, Saint Nicholas."

I shot him the hardest glare I could master, "I am too drunk and tired to kill you right now, so shut up," I grumbled, slamming the car door shut with more force than necessary.

"Easy there," Ronald mumbled, checking his car's door, making sure I didn't break it in my angry attempt to close it.

Before I could deliver another retort, Natalie sidled up to me, her eyes gleaming with the kind of tease that was just so damn infuriating. She reached up, adjusting the ridiculous red hat perched on my head—the very one I'd been trying to remove all evening. Every time I made an attempt, her hands were right there, fixing it back in place. Sometimes I wonder why I love her.

She patted my cheek lightly, her smile so sweet, "You know your glare doesn't work on me, so don't bother wasting your energy." Then, as if to seal her victory, she hooked her arm through mine, tugging me toward the house.

"So what, I am not invited in?" I heard Ronlad say from behind us.

"No, you're not," I shot back without turning around, slamming the door shut behind us. Through the window, I caught a glimpse of his offended glare as he stood in the driveway. It made my night just a little better.

I didn't wait more, I ripped the damn hat off and tossed it onto the floor, watching as the stupid cat approached it with cautious curiosity, attempting to sniff it. Natalie swooped in immediately, shooing the cat away. Before I could make my escape, she had the hat back in her hand, her intentions clear. I wasn't about to let that happen, so I headed straight for the bedroom, running away from her.

I took off my jacket and started unbuttoning my shirt when Natalie walked back in. She moved closer, tiptoed, and fixed the hat above my head, "Natalie, enough," I grumbled, attempting to push her away from me with barely controlled gentleness.

She leaned back, her gaze sweeping over me like she was appraising a masterpiece. Then, without warning, she stepped forward again, helping me shrug off my shirt. Her fingers worked deftly, sliding the fabric off my shoulders and tossing it onto the bed.

"Perfect," She said, "Don't move, I need to store this image of you in my head, you look so hot right now," She said, ever so seriously.

I crossed my arms over my chest, my patience wearing thin. Her reaction, however, was anything but subdued. She clutched her chest like she'd been struck by Cupid's arrow, staggering backward in a dramatic swoon, "My god, you're so handsome," she said, "I really won in the husband department, haven't I," She was so drunk, wasn't she...

Her lips curled into a naughty smile as she prowled toward me again, her hands sliding up my arms and over my shoulders. Her touch was maddeningly soft, her delicate fingers trailing along my skin in a way that was hard to ignore. "So," she said, her tone playful and laced with mischief, "how about you keep this on..."—she tapped the brim of the hat— "and take everything else off," She added, "and then we can have sex."

"Seriously?" I grumbled out.

She moved her hands up my arm and up to my shoulders, her fingers tiptoeing seductively over my skin, "Come on, it's Christmas," She said, pouting, "And I've been a very good girl this year, I deserve my present."

Normally, I'd put up more of a fight. But I was slightly drunk, she was irresistible, and I wasn't about to turn down what she was offering. My hand slid to her arm, pulling her closer as my other hand cupped the back of her neck. Our lips met in a kiss that quickly escalated, her body molding to mine instinctively.

Just as I was about to pick her up and devour her whole, a tiny voice from behind me broke through the haze.

"I've been a good girl too." 

Abruptly, I tore myself away from Natalie, my head snapping toward the bed. There, sitting cross-legged with her hair sticking up in a sleep-ridden mess, was Maria. She rubbed her eyes lazily, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the blankets she had just abandoned.

"Daddy, do I get a present too?" she asked, her voice sweet and innocent, completely oblivious to the chaos she'd just interrupted.

Holy hell. How long had she been there?

Why is she sleeping in our bed?

Beside me, Natalie stiffened, finally noticing the tiny intruder. Her face flushed crimson as she whispered, "We are such bad parents."

Maria, however, was unfazed. A big grin spread across her face as she pointed a tiny finger at my head, "Daddy, you're Santa!" she exclaimed, giggling uncontrollably as if the very idea was the funniest joke in the world.

Groaning in annoyance, I tore the damn hat off my head and threw it away. Natalie couldn't help but lightly punch my arm for that. Ignoring her, I moved toward the bed where Maria was now standing on wobbly legs, her arms outstretched for me. Gently, I scooped her up, her satisfied sigh filling the room as she wrapped her arms tightly around my neck.

"Daddy," she murmured, her small fingers threading through my hair as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Yeah?" I responded.

"Will you and Mommy make a new baby?" She asked.

I froze mid-step, my entire body stiffening and Natalie's eyes grew wide.

"What? Why?" I spluttered, craning my neck to look at her.

Maria pulled back slightly to look at me, her expression completely guileless. "Because you were kissing Mommy. That's how babies are made."

Oh, for the love of—

My eyebrows pulled closer, "Who told you that?"

"Uncle Nathan," she replied matter-of-factly, as though this were the most reliable source of information in the world.

I turned to Natalie, glaring, mad at her and her whole family. That's it, he is never babysitting again, "Why did he tell you that?"

"I asked him," Maria responded, ever so innocently, "I want a sister because, get me a sister, okay?"

I let out a long, exasperated sigh, gently pulling her head to rest against my shoulder again. "Yeah, sure. Go to sleep now," I muttered.

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London, UK

Emma's POV

"What are you doing?" Roman's voice echoed from behind, followed by the warmth of his arms wrapping around my waist.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I shot back, holding up a shimmering gold ornament before carefully placing it on the towering three-meter Christmas tree.

Roman dropped a kiss on my shoulder, his lips brushing against the edge of my sweater. "You know we have people who can do this, right?" he murmured, his voice low and amused.

I leaned back slightly into him, savoring his presence before replying, "I know, but I want to do it myself," My fingers brushed over a small framed photo of Noah and baby Wyatt. Wyatt was barely a year old, his cheeks round and rosy, with Noah beside him in matching Christmas sweaters and hats. My chest tightened, bittersweet warmth and achiness flooding me as I hung the photo in a prime spot near the top.

I decided to add many framed pictures as ornaments this year. There was one of Roman and me on Nik's wedding day, laughing with my big belly since I was pregnant; another one of Wyatt, grinning with a missing tooth, holding his first soccer trophy; and, at the center of the tree, a picture of all four of us. It was of Wyatt perched on Roman's shoulders, Noah beside them, all three laughing, while I stood with my arms wrapped around Noah's shoulders

Footsteps thudded in the hallway, pulling my focus. My eyes found Wyatt, headphones perched over his ears, his head bobbing in time with whatever song he was absorbed in. He strode down the hallway like he owned the place—which, technically, he did—and didn't even notice me until I stepped directly in front of him.

He jerked to a stop, blinking as he yanked his headphones down. "Mom!" he exclaimed, his tone startled.

"Come and help," I said, wrapping my hand over his arm and pulling him toward the tree.

"I don't want to," he whined, his gaze landing on the large box of ornaments with disdain. "There are literally a thousand maids in this house. Let them do it."

I sighed and rested my hands over my hips, my glare flickered from Wyatt to his father, "How did we manage to raise a very spoiled kid," I grumbled, very bothered by the fact.

Roman shoved Wyatt closer to the tree, making him stumble, "Listen to your mother and get to work," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Wyatt sighed dramatically, muttering something about injustice under his breath, but he crouched down and started digging through the ornaments.

"Is everyone really coming here for Christmas?" he asked, holding up a red stocking with a reluctant look before grudgingly hanging it.

"Yes, they are," I said, my smile spreading wide as a wave of satisfaction washed over me. For once, I'd managed to convince everyone to let us host the Christmas gathering. The thought of this house filled with our family, laughter, and even the faintest sense of normalcy made all the planning worth it.

"How did you convince Alex to accept this?" Roman asked with an amused tone.

I shrugged nonchalantly, adjusting an ornament Wyatt had hung at a comically lopsided angle. "I punched him. Twice." I straightened another one Roman had managed to mess up. "He accepted before I had the chance to go for a third. Probably worried it would land on his face."

Wyatt chuckled while Roman shook his head at me, the corners of his mouth twitching with a smile. I caught his gaze and winked, making his grin soften into something warmer, more intimate. He moved closer, like he always did, finding any excuse to be near me. His hand settled on my hip, his touch gentle but possessive, and his lips brushed my cheek, then trailed to my chin and down to the sensitive curve of my neck in a way that definitely wasn't innocent.

"Can you not do that?" Wyatt groaned dramatically from the other side of the tree, waving his arms to prove his existence, "I'm right here, you know."

I smirked at Wyatt, then turned back to Roman with a knowing look. My hand slid to the side of his face, and I leaned in, planting a kiss on his lips that was slow and deliberate, just to push my son's buttons. He was way too spoiled for his own good.

Wyatt groaned, muttering incoherent curses as he refocused on decorating the tree.

I chuckled softly against Roman's lips before pulling away, turning my attention back to the tree. Roman, thoroughly unbothered by our son's protests, lingered beside me, his arm brushing against mine as he fixed up another ornament.

"Oh, right," Wyatt said midway through our decoration, standing up and facing us, "Can I bring someone to the Christmas gathering?"

I paused, the ornament I was holding hovering mid-air, and turned to him. My eyebrows knit together as I tried to read his expression. "Someone as in...?" My thoughts spiraled. Please let it be a boy. Please let it be a boy.

"A girl," He said, vaguely.

I swallowed hard, and Roman's eyes flickered to me, catching the brief panic that must've flashed across my face. He was studying me now, gauging my reaction. "A girl?" I repeated, trying to sound casual while my internal alarm bells were ringing, "A...friend, I suppose?"

Wyatt shrugged with maddening indifference, "Kind of," He said, rubbing the back of his neck, "maybe more."

Maybe more?! My heart sank faster than a snowball thrown in the fire. Just yesterday, he was a chubby-cheeked toddler in diapers, chasing after Christmas lights, giggling over his missing tooth. And now? He is gonna get married, have kids, leave me, and forget all about me...

I want to cry.

I clenched my jaw, summoning every ounce of maternal composure, "Sure," I said evenly, my fingers tightening a little too hard on a delicate glass ornament, nearly crushing the poor snowball, "I'd love to meet your...friend," I added, "who is a girl."

Roman's lips twitched, his amusement poorly concealed as he watched my unraveling. I wanted nothing more than to smack the smirk right off his face.

With my mood destroyed, I resumed spreading holiday joy by fixing the damned Christmas tree. As I adjusted the ornaments, a faint ringing broke through my haze. Wyatt paused, fishing his phone out of his pocket. The second he glanced at the screen, his entire face lit up, a smile curving his lips—a real smile.

"I'll be back," he mumbled, already pressing the phone to his ear and slipping out of the room.

I glared daggers at his retreating figure, my jaw tightening so hard it might've cracked. I didn't like this one bit. Not the smile, not the sneaking away, and definitely not the maybe more.

I was ready to go after him but Roman's hand wrapped over my arm and pulled me back, "Easy, tiger," He said, half chuckling, enjoying this for some reason.

I stomped my foot and tilted my head up to glare at him. "You're going to find out who this girl is," I hissed, pointing a finger at his chest. "Her name, her parents, her grandparents even, what she eats for damn breakfast—every single detail since the moment she entered this world!"

Roman chuckled and I elbowed him in the stomach. He groaned,"Okay, okay," he relented, still grinning, "I'll look into it."

"Why are you so damn happy?" I snapped, resisting the urge to lob an ornament at his head.

His grin widened, infuriatingly smug. "Because," he drawled, "I've seen Alex and Nikolas lose their minds over their daughters' boyfriends, and I'm just so grateful we had a boy."

I shot him a glare, "Idiot."

Unbothered, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I sighed, my pout deepening as I crossed my arms. "What if she's not good for him?" I muttered. "What if she takes him away from me? What if she breaks his heart? I'll kill her. I swear I will—"

"Okay, okay," Roman interrupted, barely holding back his smile, "Calm down, mama bear. Let's at least meet our son's girlfriend before planning her murder, deal?"

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply—just another sharp jab to his stomach.

Abandoning the tree and decorations entirely, I marched forward, rolling my sleeves up with purpose.

"Where are you going now?" Roman asked, his voice trailing behind me.

I didn't stop. "To find this girl," I shot over my shoulder. She better be a decent girl or I will make it a bloody Christmas if I have to.

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Merry Christmas to all and to all a good holiday 🎄🎅