Page 23 of Hampton Holiday Collective

“Don’toverdo it,” Tori scolds, giving her husband a pointed look. “His back’s been bothering him,” she adds quietly for me.

Her concern is warranted, I’m sure. We know our husbands well enough to know that they’re most likely to let their competitive edge get the best of them when they’re together.

“Come on, little one,” she tells Matty, wrapping me in a quick side hug before heading into the living room with my son. “Wait until you see the tree!”

Chapter 18

Jake

“Comeon,oldman,”I lob at my best friend. “There are a few pillows in here I bet you can handle.”

Rhett grumbles under his breath and shoves his hands into his coat pockets, but he doesn’t bother rebuking my jibe.

I hit the trunk release button, and we stand, wordless, as the cargo door of my minivan lifts in slow motion.

A quick glance confirms my suspicions—Rhett’s biting the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a grin.

“Don’tsay a word,” I threaten.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“You were thinking it,” I counter, grabbing two suitcases and directing him toward a laundry basket filled with the kids’ blankets and stuffed animals with a jut of my chin.

“What do youthinkI was thinking?” Rhett smirks, cautiously lifting the basket.

The taunt lands squarely alongside all the frustration that’s been building inside me today and swirls into an outburst I’m powerless to hold back. “That this car is the most ridiculous hunk of metal I’ve ever driven!” I bite.

My best friend stares at me for a beat, then another, one brow cocked. He’s one of three people in this world who know me even better than I know myself. I can be honest to a fault with Rhett—I don’t have to hide what’s hard or pretend to be okay when I’m not.

“It’s not a Jeep,” he deadpans. Apparently, he’s going to let my bad attitude slide.

“No shit,” I huff, turning back toward the cabin. “But it’s got a built-in entertainment system, and the kids each have their own captain seats. It has a ton of trunk space, and it’s even Wi-Fi enabled so Cory can work or Stella can play on her tablet.”

“It’s practical,” Rhett offers objectively, passing me on the slick walkway to grab the door and hold it open. The snow continues to pummel us—we have to practically yell to be heard over the whip of the wind.

“It’s lame, I know,” I lament, dropping everything I’m holding as soon as we clear the threshold.

“Not lame,” he promises before adding with a grin, “But I probably won’t be asking to borrow it anytime soon.”

“Good. I don’t have to worry about you crashing it then.”

“Yikes,” Rhett hisses with a jolly chuckle. I’m an asshole, and I swear—the man’s got the patience of a saint. “We need to find you some holiday spirit.”

I grumble a non-reply and turn back to fetch another load from the car.

“Hey.” He stops me, flinging one arm over my shoulders and pulling me into him as we step back out into the snowstorm. “Come on, bro. It’s Christmas. We’re together. The kids won’t be little forever. Let’s make the most of it this year.”

His words bop around in my mind. I know he’s right, but I still feel put out by this whole ordeal. Christmas didn’t used to feel this hard. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t excited about the holidays. But here we fucking are.

I won’t spoil it for my kids. I’ll put on a happy face and play my part. And I’ll try my best to muster up some elusive Christmas spirit. But pretending might just be the best I can do this year.

We walk side by side back to the van. “You’re in the basement like usual,” Rhett offers. “Tori and I will be upstairs in the loft this year.”

“Really? Why?”

“Maddie refuses to come if she has to climb up and down the stairs all night to go to the bathroom,” he explains.

Fair.