The Plight Before Christmas(29)

“I’ve got the dishes,” Whitney and I call after her at the same time.

Whitney’s eyes meet mine briefly, and I give her a smile that she does not return. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she mutters as she takes the seat across from me.

Alexa sounds off again, and shortly after, Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas” starts to play throughout the house.

“Jesus,” Brenden says, shaking his head before shooting me a wary look, “Did I warn you my family was insane?”

“Yeah, you did,” I say with a chuckle.

“Did you sleep well?” Erin asks as Whitney again glances my way. I can’t quite decipher the look before her eyes stray.

“Perfect. Thanks.”

Brenden secures Wyatt in his chair and takes the seat next to me. “In the den, you’re in safe range from Dad’s snoring.”

“Didn’t hear a thing. It’s peaceful here.”

Brenden gawks at me like I’m growing an extra head as I pile some eggs on my plate. “Give it time, man.”

Whitney pushes a bowl of grapes out of Peyton’s reach before locking him into his highchair.

“No grapes, Pey, Pey.”

“Why not?” I ask, making simple conversation in an attempt to engage.

“Because he could choke.” She averts her attention to Peyton putting down a small plastic bowl on his highchair. “Bananas.” She breaks the fruit into large chunks before fastening a bib around his neck.

“You’re a wild one, aren’t you?” I ask with a grin.

“Mep,” he replies before shoving some banana in his mouth.

Brenden chuckles. “When did that start?”

Thatch speaks up, sporting a fond grin while eyeing his son. “A week or two ago. And I have no idea where he got it.”

Serena comes in with full coffee mugs setting one down for Thatch.

“Thanks, babe,” Thatch says absently. Serena’s expression falls when Brenden thanks Erin for delivering his coffee by way of a smack on the butt and a heated look, which is anything but subtle.

“Ewww, Uncle Brenden,” Gracie pipes in.

“Hush your face,” Brenden scolds, reaching over to run his hand down her face, before pulling her nose up with his pointer, giving her pig nose. “Killjoy.”

“What’s a k-killjoy?” Gracie asks with a giggle, batting her uncle’s hand away.

“Google it,” Thatch replies.

“I can’t Google anything, Daddy, because you took my phone.”

“Technically, your mother did.”

“So, you’ll give my phone back to me, Daddy?”

Sugary-sweet and innocent. A born manipulator, a natural.

Fire shoots from Serena’s eyes, and Thatch winces.

Allen appears, taking his seat at the head of the table where he screams his greeting. “Morning, family, Eli.”

I try my best to mask my flinch. “Morning, Sir.”

“Lord, the man is testing me. Give me strength,” Ruby mutters as golden toast pops up in front of her where she stands at the counter.

“So, where are we going?” I ask Serena to test the waters, and she ignores me. Thatch rolls his eyes and speaks up.

“Town square. Today is mystery Rudolph. All the adults get assigned someone to shop for because we used to buy for the kids only. It’s a deal we made when all of us started multiplying.”

“So I don’t get left out,” Whitney mutters dryly.

“That’s not true,” Ruby cuts in, buttering the toast.

“It’s pity Rudolph,” Whitney declares defiantly. “And I don’t need it. Just make them happy.” She nods towards her nieces and nephews.

“It’s not pity Rudolph,” Ruby refutes. “You shouldn’t be left out because you don’t have a husband or kids.”

“So you and I are in this together,” I say. Whitney’s grip on her fork tightens. She no longer seems to be a morning person. And by the look she’s giving me, I expect fire to singe off my face and jugular any second. It becomes even scarier when she flashes me her entire upper and lower deck of teeth. “It appears we are.”

Serena’s chest bounces and Thatch elbows her in the boob. She levels him with one look. “Do you want to die today?”

“Watching Die Hard today?” Allen belts from next to me, making me jump in my seat. “They have deemed it as a Christmas movie, you know. Alexa! Is Die Hard a Christmas Movie?!”

Alexa: “It certainly is. Some would argue it is the best.”

“That’s my girl,” he screams with a nod.

“Allen!” Ruby belts, matching his deafening tone. “Put your ears in, honey. They’re on the dresser!” Allen doesn’t so much as glance her way.

“Actually, Bruce Willis debunked that during his Comedy Central roast,” Brenden interjects.

“Mystery Rudolph is so fun, Eli,” Gracie pipes. “We all choose somebody to shop for, but the present has to show how well you know the person you pick, so you have to make it special.” Gracie leans toward me, her voice dropping. “Grandma gives weird presents.”

“I heard that, Gracie. For the record, your grandfather is the only one in denial about losing his hearing.”