Page 94 of Christmas Nanny

Maren didn’t hesitate. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him to share whatever warmth she had. “Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to grab our coats.”

I shrugged out of my jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She shivered a muffled thanks, resting her head on Adrian’s chest. I stayed close behind her though, not liking the idea of too much space at a time like this. The city below glimmered, and the distant echoes of music from the party felt like a heartbeat beneath the crisp night air.

“See?” I whispered, letting my lips brush her temple. “I bet you wouldn’t choose the mud wrestling over this.”

A low chuckle bubbled out of her. “You want me to answer that honestly?”

“Shh, listen.” Miles had come to stand beside me, his head cocked to the side. We stopped talking, and realized what he meant.

The sky had fallen silent. The music wasn’t playing.

“Won’t be long now,” I murmured, snaking an arm around her waist.

The countdown began echoing faintly from the streets below, the rhythm carrying up to us: “Ten… nine… eight…”

Maren reached out to take my hand, her other arm still holding onto Adrian. Miles shuffled closer to hold onto her from behind. All three of us, staking our claim, however small. And yet, completely.

“Three… two… one…”

The sky erupted. Fireworks painted the horizon in blinding hues of gold, green, and purple. They reflected in Maren’s eyes, lighting her face with streaks of color that made my chest ache. She gasped and I laughed, pulling her into me.

“Happy New Year,” I whispered against her lips, and she pressed hers to mine, soft at first, then more urgent.

Miles cupped her jaw and tilted her head back at the right angle. The kiss was firm. Slow. Heating up. But then Adrian ran his fingers along her shoulder, up her neck, to hold the back of her head and guide her mouth to his.

I stepped back slightly, watching her, watching the three of them—us, her, together—and it hit me all over again.

“Happy New Year.” It came out in a contented sigh as she looked at each of us in turn.

The fireworks continued to burst in the sky, mirroring the pulse of adrenaline and plain old joy. Maren’s laughter, light and unrestrained, carried over the cold night air as she pulled each of us into another kiss, one by one, rooting us in the moment.

When the last rocket exploded overhead, the sky still lingering in embers of gold and crimson, Maren pulled back just enoughto laugh softly, breathless. “That was incredible,” she whispered. “I love you all so much.”

I stroked her cheek, my eyes catching hers in the glow of the fading fireworks. “And we love you,” I said, confident enough to speak for all of us.