Page 21 of Hampton Holiday Collective

“Keep it together, Team Vargo.” I grit my teeth and grip the steering wheel tighter.

We somehow manage to survive another three minutes, then I pull off at a rest stop so Stella can go to the bathroom, Matteo can get out his wiggles, and I can dole out the promised M&Ms.

I blast the heat once we’re back in the car—it really is frigid out there, and the snow is relentless.

“We’ve got less than an hour to go,” I reassure the fam and turn to my husband. “Permission to resume their show?”

Cory blows out a long breath. “We should be okay. I have to be in one more meeting at three, but I don’t think I’ll need to speak. I’m sorry it’s such a crazy day,” he apologizes, his voice soft and his eyes full of concern.

“We’re good,” I assure him. “Almost there,” I add and squeeze his arm. “I just feel bad that you have to manage everything from the car. I wanted to get the drive behind us so we could fully enjoy your birthday tomorrow, but maybe that was unrealistic.”

“About that…”

“Baby,” I groan.

“I have to be on two calls tomorrow afternoon,” he explains.

“So our birthday lunch date is off, then?”

I put the van in reverse, pull out of the parking spot, then hit the gas a little harder than I should as I merge back onto the turnpike.

Christmas Eve is chaotic and fun in all the best ways. But it’s hard to balance making Cory’s birthday special while also making cookies for Santa and wrangling the kids’ off-the-charts energy. A few years ago, we started going out to lunch that day, just the two of us, to celebrate him. It’s like the calm before the storm that is Christmas with small children.

“No, no. We can still go. I’ve been looking forward to it all week. We just have to be back by two.”

My patience is stretched so thin that I don’t trust myself to reply. Wordlessly, I nod and turn upLittle Baby Bumper Matteo’s demands.

“Hey.” Cory reaches across the center console and grips my thigh. “It’ll be great. I can’t wait for alone time with you.”

His heated stare melts some of the tension wearing on my frazzled nerves. But then Stella gives a swift kick to the back of the driver’s seat because Matteo threw a fidget ball at her, and I quickly have to right the van into the lane and focus on the road. This last hour is going to be a long one.

Chapter 17

Cory

Icorralthekidswhile Jake grabs the first load from the car, and we hustle to get inside the cabin and out of the blistering storm that’s been dumping snow on us all afternoon.

“Auntie Tori!” Stella cheers the second we’re through the door, rushing past my legs and tracking snow all over the entryway as she beelines for my best friend in the kitchen.

Tori picks her up and spins her around, their mutual squeals of delight echoing against the cavernous ceiling.

Tori and Rhett’s cabin in Michigan is one of those places that just feels like home. Especially at Christmastime. We’ve been coming up here to celebrate with them over the last several years, and Jake, Rhett, and Tori speak fondly of their holidays here before I was in the picture.

Everything in the cabin is warm and glowing—twinkle lights adorn every ledge, with the scent of evergreen and cinnamon wafting through the space.

The tension clinging to me starts to thaw as I exhale a long breath.

We made it. After a nonstop week and a harried drive, we’re finally here. And it’s almost Christmas.

This year more than ever, the holiday season has been a nonstop hustle—between work, the kids’ activities, and the rush of doing everything we could to make the season as special as possible, I admittedly haven’t had time to let myself feel any semblance of holiday spirit.

But walking into this cozy, welcoming place with friends we love like family sends a surge of warmth and joy through me.

“Nope!” Tori declares, squeezing Stella tighter against her body in an all-encompassing hug as my little girl giggles. “I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving. I’m not ready to let go.”

Stella beams and soaks up her godmother’s praise. “I can’t wait to make cookies tomorrow! I want to make chocolate chip and crinkle cookies and spritz! Then we’ll have caramel hot cocoa while they bake!”

“I help too,” Matteo declares defiantly from his perch in my arms. Stella darts a look at me, panicked, and I do my best to not laugh at her worry.