Page 18 of A Holly Jolly Mix Up (Sweet Christmas Kisses #12)
Jane
As I sip my steaming coffee on this magical Christmas morning, the aroma of cinnamon and roasted beans mixes with the scent of fresh pine from the towering Christmas tree.
I’m nestled comfortably in the oversized cushions of the couch with Angus snuggled next to me, his tiny snores providing a rhythmic soundtrack to this perfect morning.
Andrew is seated across from me on a plush armchair, his long legs stretched out towards the crackling fire. The soft glow from the fireplace illuminates his handsome face.
As I watch Andrew laugh at one of Dad’s corny jokes, I can’t help but marvel at how Andrew has blended effortlessly into our family. His quick wit and easy charm have won over everyone.
“Another cherished Brooks’s tradition,” Mom begins, her voice warm with nostalgia. “Are you ready for it? ”
I turn to Andrew and can’t help but smile at his confused expression. “Every year, Mom finds the most hideous Christmas sweaters, and we take a family photo.”
Mom chuckles as she grabs a worn photo album off the bookshelf and brings it over to Andrew. The pages are filled with pictures of us, each year more ridiculous than the last. Yet, in every single one, we’re all laughing, the joy practically leaping off the pages.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Mom says to Andrew with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’ve found just the sweater for you.”
As she reaches under the tree for the gifts, Andrew shoots me a pleading look. “You didn’t warn me about this,” he protests half-heartedly, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I counter, grinning.
Andrew laughs and shakes his head. He’s a good sport though.
“Okay, Andrew.” She hands him a brightly wrapped package. “Open it.” She claps her hands excitedly as she sits down next to me on the couch, eagerly anticipating his reaction.
With a wide grin, he pulls out the bright red sweater emblazoned with the words “Suspect: Gingerbread Man. Charge: Evading Capture.” and an image of the gingerbread man in handcuffs.
“Wear it with pride, detective!” I tease.
Mom hands me a package. “Jane, here’s yours.”
I eagerly tear off the wrapping paper to reveal a neon green sweater with a llama wearing a Santa hat, complete with an oversized 3D bow around its neck. It’s adorned with pom-poms and ornaments along the neckline and sleeves, making for an eye-catching but not necessarily attractive garment.
“Fa La La La Llama,” I read aloud, my face scrunching up in dismay.
“Wear it with pride, Jane,” Andrew mocks me, trying to stifle his laughter.
After we all open the sweaters, Dad sets up the camera. “Alright everyone, gather around. The timer’s set for ten seconds. Smile!”
We huddle close together, laughing at each other’s ridiculous sweaters as the camera clicks and captures this Brooks’s tradition.
We all look at the photo on the phone. Dad’s “Fleece Navidad” wool sweater adorned with leaping sheep, Mom’s “Santa Claws” with a holographic cat in a Santa hat, and Nonna’s “Chillin’ with My Snowmies” sweater featuring a group of snowmen with plastic carrots for noses.
As I gaze at the photo, a pang of sadness hits me as I realize how many years I’ve missed out on these cherished moments. But I quickly push those thoughts aside, knowing that I must focus on the present and continue making new memories.
My attention is pulled toward Angus who stands on the edge of a chair, reaching for a candy cane hanging on the tree.
“Angus!” I sternly call his name, but it’s no use.
He growls playfully as he tugs at the candy cane, determined to make it his.
Andrew lunges forward to help when suddenly the candy cane gives way and Angus starts to run with his newfound treat.
Andrew’s eyes widen in surprise as he finds himself suddenly in harm’s way of our toppling Christmas tree.
“Timber!” Dad calls out as he rushes toward Andrew.
With quick reflexes befitting a detective, Andrew steps back just in time. Between Andrew and Dad, they catch the wobbling tree before it crashes onto him.
Everyone breathes a sigh of relief as they secure it back upright. All except Angus, who is now triumphantly pawing at his candy cane .
“I’m sorry about that.” Andrew gives me an apologetic glance, gesturing towards Angus who seems rather pleased with himself. “He has quite the sweet tooth.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Don’t worry. It’s not your fault. It just made our holiday photos more interesting.” I turn my dad’s phone and swipe through the images as we all share a laugh.
Andrew gives a sheepish grin then slowly approaches Angus. “Drop it.”
The mischievous puppy darts under the dining table, easily evading Andrew’s grasp.
“Come on, it’s Christmas,” I chime in, trying to diffuse the tension. “You don’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list.”
Angus drops the candy cane and proudly trots out from under the table.
But Andrew is not amused. He emerges from under the table with the candy cane in hand. “That’s it, you’re definitely getting coal in your stocking this year.”
Unfazed by Andrew’s threats, Angus darts back towards him with lightning speed and snatches the treat out of his hand, proudly wagging his tail in victory.
I can’t help but laugh at the comical scene playing out in front of me. “You know, for a seasoned detective, you certainly have a lot to learn about dealing with a mischievous Scottish terrier.”
Realizing we need to burn off some of Angus’ boundless energy, Andrew suggests, “Let’s take him outside for a run.”
After some coaxing and playful chasing, we manage to retrieve the candy cane from Angus’ clutches and make our way outside into the crisp winter air.
A light dusting of snow covers the backyard. The cold doesn’t seem to faze Angus as he runs around, kicking up flurries of snow with each excited leap.
“Thank you for having me here today. Not only is it nice to be with your family, I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with you.”
“Mom and Dad are happy to have you here. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Andrew smiles, his dimples sinking into his cheeks. “Well then, I guess it’s a merry Christmas for both of us.”
“But you know what makes it feel even more like Christmas?” I playfully ask.
Before he can answer, I quickly scoop up a handful of snow and hurl it at him. His eyes widen in shock as the snowball explodes against his chest, leaving a fresh dusting on his ugly Christmas sweater .
Then his lips split into a wide grin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.”
With a loud burst of laughter, I take off running through the yard, my boots crunching against the pristine snow. He chases after me, and soon, my back is hit by a well-aimed snowball, causing me to stumble forward.
Beside us, Angus barks excitedly and jumps around, trying to catch the flying snowballs in his mouth. Even Mom and Dad join in on the fun. Dad and I against Mom and Andrew.
“Jane, behind you!” Dad hollers just as a snowball hits me squarely on the back.
I whip around to see my mom grinning, her hands dusted with snow. “Never underestimate your old mom,” she warns, wagging a finger at me.
And she is right; Andrew and my mom are triumphant.
Dad pats Andrew on the back with a grin. “Good game.”
“I’ll get you next time.” I give Andrew a side glance.
“In your dreams.” Andrew winks then we all saunter towards the fireplace.
It truly is the perfect Christmas day. Between silly sweaters, near Christmas tree disasters, and an epic snowball fight, I can’t imagine it any other way. The best part is that Andrew is here with us, sharing in our family traditions. Today has been nothing short of magical.
The last few weeks with Andrew have been like living in a beautiful dream. And as I sit there, watching the firelight play off his features, cocoa in hand and a puppy draped across his lap, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace.
One thing is for certain, I eagerly await the day when I can proudly introduce myself at Mrs. Harrington.