The Plight Before Christmas(48)

“That was incredible,” Ruby whispers. “Thank you.”

“Happy Anniversary,” Whitney says softly as Allen interrupts their hug to give her a bear hug of his own, his eyes red. “You got us good, Sweet Pea.”

“Glad you liked it, Daddy. I already uploaded it to your Drive.”

“Overachiever,” Brenden growls from his chair as Erin rolls her eyes, brushing a tear away. “No, seriously, you did good, sis,” Brenden says, rare emotion in his own eyes. “That was so awesome.”

“Can’t take all the credit,” Whitney tells her parents. “Serena helped me sort the pictures and videos for months. I guess Brenden chipped in a little too.”

“Thanks, sis, that bus tire felt great.”

“God, you didn’t tell me it would be that cool,” Serena stands, wiping her eyes free of tears. “You did so good, Whit.” Serena pulls Whitney into a hug, and they separate, smiling.

“I only had like six pictures in there,” Gracie pipes in, disgruntled, which breaks up the raw sentiment and has us all laughing.

“Oh, the vanity,” Thatch says, grabbing Gracie and knuckling the top of her head while managing to keep Peyton snoozing on his chest. “Don’t worry, Gracie, I’m sure you’ll star in the next one, in your own ugly prom dress,” Thatch assures.

“My dress won’t be ugly. Mommy won’t let it be ugly.”

“Damn straight,” Serena agrees as Thatch stands. “We’re off to bed.”

“Us too,” Erin says, standing and holding out her hand to Brenden, who does the same.

“I’m taking my bride to bed as well,” Allen proclaims.

“TMI, Dad,” Brenden interjects as he follows Erin upstairs.

Everyone says their collective goodnights, and once vacated, Whitney begins to straighten the living room. I stand, gathering Peyton and Wyatt’s scattered toys from the floor and putting them in their designated plastic bin.

“That was fucking awesome,” I tell Whitney, grabbing the opposite end of a large throw as she starts to fold it.

“Thanks.”

“Really, Whitney, it was…” I shake my head, “you truly do have an incredible family and every right to be proud of it.”

She bites her lip, her face solely lit by the light of the Christmas tree and the dying fire.

I frown. “What?”

“I didn’t know if it would bother you.” The fact that she was concerned about my reaction only further reminds me that I still know her.

“It’s been a long time. I’m not as sensitive about it. But thank you for—”

“Was it your parents?”

I draw my brows. “Was what my parents?”

“Was that why you were having such a hard time when we…”

“Were together?” I nod. “A lot of it was, yes.”

She nods, claiming the blanket from me and folding it over the side of the couch. She turns and pauses. “Sometimes when I think about you—” she cuts herself off, “well when I think about how hard it must have been for you to have lost them so suddenly like you did, I think I might not have realized the true extent of just how much you were going through. It had only been two years, and maybe, maybe I stupidly thought that was enough time to grieve—”

“You were perfect,” I say vehemently, sliding my hands in my pockets. “So fucking perfect, Whitney. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“I pushed you to go out and do things you weren’t—”

“I needed those pushes,” I assure her, fighting the inclination to get closer.

“We fought about it.”

“I know, but I assure you I did. I just didn’t know it at the time.”

She nods once, and I decide to drop another truth bomb.

“In fact, I can say with certainty that you were exactly what I needed at a time when I had no idea what I needed looked like. I know that now. I hope you didn’t think that was the reason—”

“I did.”

Guilt surfaces, and I swallow. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s all good. We’re good. Night.”

“Goodnight.”

Fingers itching at my sides, I resist the dire urge to stop her, to lay it all out, but her tone indicates that door is no longer open—at least for tonight—so I let her walk away, up the stairs and out of sight.





Hearing faint grunts and easily identifying the culprit, I open the attic door to the second floor to catch Peyton, clad in a onesie, struggling to climb over the reinforced barricade. Moving to intercept, he slips over and lands in a terrifying thud on the other side of the gate with a giggle before popping up in one piece. Letting out a whoosh of relieved breath and bristling with indecision to grab him for his own safety, he eases my worry slightly when he grips the heavily carpeted stair railing and slowly begins his descent, taking one step at a time. “Lieeeee,” Peyton beckons his new love interest as he reaches the bottom step. I stay a good bit behind before following him down.

“I’ve been waiting for you, little guy,” I hear Eli respond from somewhere in the living room. Unable to resist, I peek around the corner and see Eli is dressed from head to boot, looking catalog perfect in light-washed jeans, a solid white thermal, and a pinstriped beanie. I can’t help the zing in my chest when I spot the sippy cup waiting in his hand. Giggling, Peyton sprints toward Eli’s open arms as he bends and scoops him into his hold.