Page 37 of All in for Christmas

I creep out of bed while Dean’s still sleeping.

My handsome, bare-chested husband snuggled under the covers.

Just thinking of him as my husband fills me with a happy honeymooner vibe.

I traipse quietly to the bathroom and shower and wash my hair.

I’m so excited for this day and what it will bring. Christmas Eve .

The kids slumber peacefully when I pass their rooms. Scout hears me in the hall and perks up his head, slowly climbs down off Eleanor’s bed and lopes across her room. “Morning, boy,” I whisper and gently pat his head.

He follows me toward the kitchen, and I note the Christmas tree lights still shine.

We forgot to unplug them last night, but the fire in the fireplace has burned down to ash.

A piney scent fills the air. Eeep! I tiptoe over and blow out the candle on the mantel then unplug the Christmas tree.

I smile to myself, knowing Dean and I were in such a hurry to get to bed after Henry’s minor interruption, we forgot nearly everything else.

Sigh. Kids.

Double sigh. My super sexy husband.

Scout and I trot into the kitchen, and I feed him his kibbles from the giant can with a snap-on lid near the door.

Give him fresh water. I’m waiting on the coffee to brew and mentally planning my morning when something cold presses against my blue jeans above my knee.

I laugh and look down. Scout’s brought in the paper.

“Good boy!” I take the paper from him and set it on the counter, sliding it out of its plastic sleeve and opening it to the front page. The date and year seem accurate, but everything else about this existence is new and almost too awesome to be true.

I’ve got to find a way to stay here. I don’t want to go back to my ultra-planned life.

Even if I have to postpone starting my charity, I’ve decided that’s okay.

Everything in its place and all things in good time.

There’s no reason I can’t undertake the same steps at Walton to establish the Paws and Read program here like I did there.

It will just take longer. I’ll need to earn my degree first and become an established and respected teacher before I can propose starting something as ambitious as a countywide literacy initiative.

Going back to college will be extra work, but not as much as it seems, because I’ve basically done those same teacher courses before.

Same with setting up Paws and Read. The first time was a learning curve.

The second should run like clockwork. And since Mom’s healthy here, I can take pains to ensure she gets regular checkups so she stays that way.

I want this life—complete with its chaos and extra family demands, its unfolded laundry.

Our cute little house and our very sweet dog.

I’m going to speak with Mary Christmas to see if she can share some clues about how I might change things. Not just for the better, but for good .

The coffee maker beeps that it’s ready and I fix myself a cup, adding sugar and creamer.

The new concoction has grown on me, truthfully, and the one-two punch of sweetness and caffeine does a stellar job of waking me up.

The advent calendar catches my eye and I see it’s nearly complete.

Just one more item needs to be added to the felt Christmas tree: the jolly Santa Claus face.

I take a sip of coffee, bracing myself for the day ahead.

It’s going to be busy, between my errands this morning and meeting Mom for coffee.

We’ve got the kids’ Christmas pageant at church this evening, then it’s hopefully an early bedtime for them so Dean and I can get Santa gifts ready.

I hadn’t realized we’d need to assemble Eleanor’s bike and Henry’s riding car.

Those things could take work, and time. But I don’t mind volunteering for either thing.

As long as I’m with Dean, I’m happy. It will be a project night for the two of us together.

I fix my husband his coffee and carry it stealthily down the hall and into the bedroom.

He groggily opens his eyes and sits up partway when he sees me walk through the door.

“Well, hey! You’re up early.” He blinks and stares at my wet hair.

“Have you showered already?” He props himself up against the headboard using some pillows and I take him his coffee.

“I have.” I hand him his mug. “I’ve got some errands to run this morning,” I say, strolling over to partially raise the blinds. It’s snowing again, but not heavily.

“More errands?” he teases. “Mysterious.”

“Ha. Yeah.” I sit down beside him holding my coffee mug.

“Plus, I’m meeting Mom for coffee.” Before, I’d planned to use the occasion to talk Mom out of running away with Roger.

Now that I’ve seen how happy the two of them are together, I simply can’t do that.

Not when I understand what it feels like to be head over heels in love myself.

“That’s right. You’re finalizing your Christmas menu.” He sips from his mug. “What kind of salad is she bringing this year?”

“Umm, not sure, actually.”

Dean’s eyes shine when he says, “Everyone’s looking forward to your world-famous lasagna.”

“What? We’re not having turkey?” I saw the photo evidence on my phone of Dean carving a great big bird.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Good one.”

I wasn’t joking. “Sorry?”

“Paige, are you getting your holidays mixed up? You know we always have turkey at Thanksgiving. We’re doing what we do every year,” he answers. “Having my folks, my sister, Jenny, and your mom over for Christmas dinner.”

“For lasagna?” I say, still wrapping my head around it.

He wrinkles his brow. “Are you worried about the groceries? Oh gosh.” Dean frowns. “You haven’t had time to shop yet, have you?”

I raise a shoulder. Not unless I did that before December twentieth. “Ahh.”

“Tell you what,” Dean says kindly. “Why don’t you let me do the grocery shopping while you run your errands. I can take the kids with me. It’s no big deal. I’ll get everything you need.”

“You don’t, um, need me to make a list?”

Please say no. Please, please, please. Please. I have no clue about what goes into my “world-famous lasagna” besides, well, obviously lasagna noodles and sauce. I hope it’s not too much of a bear to make. Maybe I use a premade sauce?

“Nope,” Dean says. “I’ve got it.” His eyes twinkle warmly. “Including all the ingredients for your delicious homemade sauce.”

My nose twitches anxiously and I rub it. “Yay!”

“Don’t worry about the rest of the meal,” Dean says. “My folks are bringing dessert and extra wine, and I assume your mom’s supplying her usual bread and a salad. Though this year…” A dimpled grin. “I suspect she’ll bring Roger as well.”

“Sounds spectacular.”

“Always is.” He leans forward to kiss me. “And don’t worry about any mess you might make. As per our deal, I’ll do the cleaning up.”

“Mommy! Daddy!” Eleanor rushes through the doorway holding her Highland cow and pouncing on the bed.

Dean and I steady our mugs when our coffees slosh.

Scout follows her with leaps and bounds and a “ Woof! Woof! Woof! ” as he lumbers onto the bed and scrambles over Dean’s legs tucked under the covers.

“Morning, pumpkin,” Dean says and tussles the top of Eleanor’s head.

Her hair is long and loose this morning.

Before I go out, I’ll braid it and get her dressed.

I’ll also help get Henry ready for his day, too.

Since Dean will be watching them later, it’s the least I can do.

Dean strokes Scout’s back. “Did you get the paper for Mom?”

He barks and sits down, and I confirm with a nod. “He did.”

Henry stands on the threshold with his Nessie, grinning from ear to ear. He throws up his hands, squeezing Nessie around the neck on one side. “Merry Kissmas!” he shouts, his toddler cry bouncing off the ceiling.

I set down my coffee mug and hold out my arms, and Henry rushes toward me, scrambling up on the bed. I tug him into my lap and hug him as he giggles. “Almost.” I kiss the top of his head.

Dean winks and my heart warms. “Tomorrow, it will be a Merry Kissmas for real.”

“I know,” I say happily. “Can’t wait.”

A short time later, we stand in the kitchen by the advent calendar.

Upon reflection, Dean and I calculate that yesterday should have been Eleanor’s turn when I put up the Christmas candle instead of her, so she should go today.

But Eleanor generously steps aside. “Henry can do it,” she says in such a sweet way my insides go all mushy. Our little girl is growing up.

Dean smiles at me and then her. “Very nice of you Eleanor,” he says, picking up Henry. “Okay, buddy! Go for the Santa!” Henry digs his chubby fist into the pocket for Day Twenty-Four and plunks Santa near the top of the tree when Dean hoists him higher.

Eleanor cheers, “Yay!”

I grin at the kids and say, “Santa comes tonight.”

Dean takes the jeep to get groceries with the kids, so I drive my old hatchback.

It’s not a far distance to downtown from our house and mostly flat driving, so the old clunker does fine.

I park at a curb near the town square and more snow starts up the minute I get out of the car.

My purse hangs from the crook of my arm and it’s heavy, weighted down with currency.

I intend to stop by the bank before visiting the consignment shop.

It won’t do for me to make the purchase in numerous coins and low-denomination bills.

But first, I need to find Mary Christmas.