Page 25 of Hampton Holiday Collective

“Just regular coffee is fine,” I tell him through a yawn, fluffing my pillow before settling back in to snooze.

Jake lowers over me, hovering an inch from my lips, just out of reach. “Baby, it’s your birthday. I made the espresso last night and put it on ice so you can have it exactly how you like it today.”

He pecks me once more, then strides toward the door.

“You’re the best,” I call after him before he can leave the room.

“I love you,” he replies, pausing at the threshold and grasping the doorjamb with one arm, the muscles in his forearm flexing in a way that makes me even harder. “And I really wanna get you alone later and show you how much,” he adds with a heated stare.

Heaven. Being married to Jake is blissful, wonderful, brilliant heaven.

Chapter 20

Jake

Melancholylingersbetweenuson the walk from the van to the cabin. I enter the security code and wrap my hand around the door handle just as Cory grabs my arm. Pausing, I glance over my shoulder and study my husband for a long moment.

His eyes are a storm of emotions, none of which I’m responsible for inspiring.

This sucks. But it is what it is.

I no longer panic when his eyes get distant and his mood goes somber. The mental and emotional demands of his work during this time of year toe the line of unsustainable. But what he’s doing is so important, and he’s so committed to his team and to their mission.

I know he can do this. Just like I know now is not forever. Things will ease up after the holidays. They always do.

I squeeze his hand in solidarity, offering him my best attempt at a sincere and understanding smile.

He squeezes back, but it’s lackluster at best.

Lunch was a disaster. We shouldn’t have even bothered. It took us longer than expected to get out the door, with Matty inventing a million little reasons why we (or more specifically, Cory) couldn’t leave.

By the time we finally made it to the restaurant, we had missed our reservation, so we sat at the bar. Or rather, I sat at the bar. Cory had to take an emergency call after we ordered drinks. Then we rushed to eat and pay the check before his scheduled conference call.

He spent half the car ride to the cabin on the phone, and the other half apologizing profusely that he couldn’t give me his undivided attention.

It’s a merciless cycle we go through each holiday season: Cory feels guilty about his workload. Then I neglect my own feelings in an effort to build him back up and keep him in the best headspace possible to lead his team. None of it is easy. But in the end, it’s worth it.

We’ll get through this. We always do.

But this year more than ever, I’m ready to move past the holiday season. I really miss my husband.

I push through the door to the sound of Tori and Stella belting out the chorus to a song from theFrozenholiday special.

“You’re home!” Stella squeals, skipping to me and hugging my legs before doing the same to Cory.

“Papi!” Matteo screams, wiggling out of Rhett’s arms and running toward us at full speed. Cory scoops him up, hugs him tight, and spins him around.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, but the kids are already in their matching Christmas jammies.

“Say hi to Daddy,” Cory encourages.

“Hiii, Daddy,” Matty sasses with all the three-year-old attitude he can muster.

I ruffle his hair, but he immediately bats my hand away in protest before Cory turns to follow Stella into the living room.

I blow out a long breath and turn toward the coat stand. Tori catches my arm before I make it two steps.

“You look like you need a hug,” she teases, poking me in the side.