I pull her to me by the lapels of her jacket and lean my forehead against hers. “You really think Ryan won’t enjoy himself? That kid can have fun anywhere. Not to mention that once this little one arrives, there won’t be much chance for spontaneity,” I add, my hands moving down her delicious curves. “Like you said earlier, let’s enjoy this moment while we can.”
Stacy sighs, leaning up onto her tiptoes to steal a kiss. I can tell by her knotted brow that she’s not entirely convinced.
“Is something else bothering you?” I ask.
But before she can answer, our apartment door suddenly flies open.
“You’re home!” Ryan yells.
The little boy rushes forward so fast that he’s nothing more than a brown-haired blur. Behind him, the babysitter laughs and gives an exasperated shake of her head. “I tried to get him to go to sleep earlier but . . .”
“He’s as energetic as his uncle,” Stacy chuckles.
“I wanted to wait until you guys got back!” Ryan says, excitedly. “How many days until Santa comes again?”
“Well, today is Christmas Eve-Eve, so two more sleeps!” Stacy answers.
“Two more sleeps! Two more sleeps!” Ryan echoes as he bounces around us in circles.
I kneel down, catching him and tickling his sides until he’s gasping for air. Stacy pays the sitter while I wrangle the wiggling little boy. Once inside, I collapse on our overstuffed couch with Ryan. He sits on my knee, grinning happily. Visions of sugarplums have definitely been dancing in his head lately, and he smells faintly of chocolate, thanks to conning his babysitter into letting him have chocolate milk, no doubt.
“Speaking of Christmas . . . ” I begin slowly, “how would you feel about going to a Christmas tree farm for the big day, buddy?”
Ryan’s head tilts back and forth. His mouth screws one way and then the other. “Will Santa still be able to find us?”
Laughing, I nod. “You bet!”
“Woah, seriously?” Ryan stands up again and looks from me to Stacy. “And this is a real Christmas tree farm? Like where baby Christmas trees grow up?”
I nod.
Ryan’s face brightens. “Do you think there are big brother Christmas trees there, Stacy? Can I see them?”
Her face lights up with a smile and she nods. “Of course, sweetie.”
“Yes! Let’s go!” Ryan roars, racing around like the Tazmanian Devil again.
Stacy sighs, smirking at me above the melee. “Well, I guess I can’t say no now.”
She reaches down and playfully pinches Ryan’s cheek as he runs over to throw his arms around her. Shooting me an impish glare she says, “You know this better not be a common theme with the baby—you guys all ganging up on me with your cuteness to get your way!”
“No promises,” I tease.
She laughs again, shaking her head back and forth. “I hope I'm having a girl to even the teams. It’s two on one now!”
“So?” Ryan asks, desperately. “Are we going? Are we really?” He looks between Stacy and me, his hands folded tight as he begs us.
“We’re going!” Stacy declares.
Ryan gives an ecstatic shriek as he wraps his arms tighter around Stacy. I walk over and scoop them both up against me, hugging them tightly.
In my mind, the precious Christmas memories have already begun. Maybe I really can pull this family thing off.
Donovan Dunn
Chloe bustles around me, somehow simultaneously cleaning while she packs. I haven't even gotten out my suitcase yet, a little too distracted by the deep dive I’ve been doing into Pine Island since leaving Club Thorn.
“Hmm . . . this place is an enigma,” I say, pursuing the website for Everett’s Christmas Lodge & Tree Farm.
It’s located in the small town of Pine Island, New York. I’d never heard of the remote upstate location until today, but it’s quite a hidden gem. The whole town seems devoted to celebrating Christmas year-round. What a concept!
“The lodge has great reviews,” I note, scrolling through the info online. “Their site could use some work though. It’s a little outdated. It doesn’t appear like they utilize social media much at all.”
Chloe, who’s been quiet since we left the club, though I assume it’s because this is such a last-minute venture, remains silent. I look up to see she’s given up on packing and is now solely focused on cleaning—not a good sign.
Cleaning is how she copes with stress. The cleaning crew I keep staffed is a point of daily contention for us. The last thing I want Chloe doing is picking up after me, no matter how many times she says she enjoys it. We both work too hard to have to worry about things like that.
But I know I have my quirks, too. Chloe is the type of woman who likes to be able to take her time planning things, so I get how this hasty trip has thrown her world a bit off its axis.
Aiming to distract her, I catch her hand as she passes and pull her toward me. “Look at this with me for a minute,” I urge until she sinks down beside me on the couch.
I lay my phone down and extend an arm toward her, welcoming my fiancée to cuddle up against my side. Chloe rests her head on my chest, her fingers splaying out over my suit jacket. Though we’re snuggled together, her body feels strangely tense. I stroke my fingers through her thick, dark hair, admiring the way it gleams like a raven’s wing. She truly is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, inside and out.
I'm so glad that I get to spend my life with her.
I'm also glad she’s on such a similar wavelength as I am, down to talk about work anytime. She’s one of the only other people I’ve met that’s as business oriented as I am, and I adore that about her.
Scanning the website, she offers an uncharacteristic shrug. “Maybe they’re just not into social media?”
My shoulders stiffen. “Well that’s a mistake. If they want to maximize their profits and outreach,
