Page 22 of Hampton Holiday Collective

I shake my head subtly, and Tori bends low to whisper to Stella that they’ll bake cookies when Matteo takes his nap. Relief floods her little body with the assurance.

Jake finally appears in the doorway, his hair and shoulders covered in snow. It’s really coming down hard, guaranteeing we’ll have a white Christmas.

Rhett rushes to greet him and take some of the bags from his hands. The sheer amount of luggage and packages and tote bags we brought makes it look like we’re staying for weeks. But we honestly need everything we hauled. Factor in two adults, two small kids, and anything and everything we could possibly need for Christmas, and it’s just a lot of stuff.

My husband and his best friend hug, then Rhett moves over to greet me with a handshake and a one-armed hug.

“Matty boy!” he dotes, pulling back and reaching out for my son.

Matteo grips my neck tighter, clinging to me as he thwarts Rhett’s attempt at taking him from my arms.

Chuckling, Rhett backs off immediately, both hands raised as he glances at Jake in question.

“He’s going through a serious Papi phase right now,” my husband explains. He arranges a few bags on the kitchen island and rubs his hands together to get warm before he has to head out for the next load.

“I’ve been working a lot over the last few weeks,” I offer as an explanation, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Matteo’s back. It hurts Jake’s feelings when the kids take preferential sides like this. But it’s impossible to reason with a determined three-year-old who just so happens to share Jake’s DNA.

“Daddy says you’ve been working way too much,” Stella declares with an edge to her tone. She’s shucking off her coat and making herself at home, completely unaware of how her words have sliced through the room.

“It’s our busiest time of the year,” I rationalize softly, hugging Matty to me and glancing over to Jake for back up.

He’s busying himself with putting away the groceries we bought, his head down and his attention fixed on the task.

“Things will slow down in January,” I offer, louder.

“I know. They always do,” Jake confirms without meeting my gaze as he continues to unload bags.

Stella is already skipping into the living room, and Rhett and Tori are looking at one another, quite possibly to avoid looking at me.

An awkward silence follows, so thick with unease that I feel compelled to dig my heels in and defend myself again.

“It’s important work.”

“It’s life-saving work,” Tori finally chimes in, coming over to stand beside me. With one hand on my back, she ruffles Matteo’s hair and plants a kiss on his cheek.

Jake blows out a long breath and nods, but he doesn’t attempt to argue or engage in the conversation. I feel foolish defending myself to no one. I recognize that my own insecurities fuel a lot of the guilt I have as the primary working parent in our house.

Tori whispers something that makes Matteo giggle. Then he’s unexpectedly wiggling out of my arms.

“I’ve got a craft set up for the kids in the living room,” she explains, taking Matty from me and propping him on one hip before ruffling his hair again. “Why are you so stinkin’ cute, Matty Vargo?”

“’Cause I look just like my daddy!” he explains without missing a beat, his eyes alight and a grin spread across his face. We all chuckle at his bold self-confidence, clearly one of the many traits he inherited from Jake.

“I’ve got them,” Tori insists with a smile. “We’ll be busy for at least an hour if you’ve got work to do.”

“Do you have work to finish up?” Jake asks a little too evenly, jutting his chin to the laptop bag slung over my shoulder.

I do. I hate it, but I do.

“I’ll be less than an hour,” I say with a grimace, then head toward the basement so I can work in peace.

Jake gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, meaning his one dimple doesn’t come out to play. His neutral acceptance and unwavering support prick at my guilty conscience. But the sooner I get these emails wrapped up, the sooner I can focus on our family.

“I’m gonna get another load from the car.”

Rhett is hot on his best friend’s heels, grabbing his coat as they head to the door.

“I’ll help you, bro. Let’s get everything unloaded, then we can start on dinner.”