Page 39 of Hampton Holiday Collective

“Agreed.”

“I love you. There’s no one else I’d want to do this with, even if it is really fucking scary.”

Dempsey leans forward and rests his forehead on mine, but we startle apart at the crash that echoes from downstairs and the ensuing chaos as Wyatt’s wails carry into our wing of the house.

“That’swhat we should be scared of… winding up with one that’s as wild as Wyatt.”

“Nope. That’s where you’re wrong,” I insist. “One would be okay. Imagine if theybothtake after their cousin and their uncle.” I mock-shudder at the notion, then grin when Dempsey bursts out laughing.

Chapter 30

Dempsey

“Wedon’thavetogo,” I remind her for the tenth time in as many minutes.

I’d prefer to stay in tonight anyway.

I glance down at my phone—again—scrolling through the group text with Jake and Rhett. They’re already at The Oak, pregaming before dinner.

Apparently, it’s common for thirtysomethings to ring in the new year on December thirtieth these days. Cory’s abuela has a hot date tomorrow night and can’t babysit then, and Tori and Rhett are heading back to Virginia tomorrow morning.

So December thirtieth it is.

“We’re going,” Maddie declares defiantly from the closet, her voice muffled as she continues to search for something to wear. “We don’t know how many more date nights we have left! I just have to find something to cover this damn bump…”

I saunter into the walk-in, then wrap my arms around her from behind. I feel so much lighter since our heart-to-heart this afternoon. This newfound levity is a welcome sensation compared to the impending sense of dread I’ve felt for weeks.

“I really like your damn bump,” I tease, stroking both sides of her bare stomach.

“You can’t even wrap your arms around me anymore,” she gripes.

“If we stay in tonight, you could wrap your legs around me instead.”

She hums in what sounds like consideration, but eventually peels away and continues her search for an acceptable outfit.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” she tells me over her shoulder with a wave of her hand, banishing me back to the bedroom.

I pull out my phone and type out a text to let her brother and our friends know that we’ll probably be another hour.

“Um, guys?”

We’re all packed into one of the big booths that line the back wall of The Oak, sipping on drinks and chatting about the holidays. Jake arranged for a tech-savvy Santa to send a personalized video to his kids on Christmas Eve, and Rhett’s got all sorts of ideas on how to monetize and scale the concept. It’s not a bad idea, actually, especially if the service launched early enough in the year.

I look up to meet Maddie’s gaze where she stands, back from her second trip to the bathroom, then practically knock over my Christmas Ale when I see her wide-eyed, panicked expression.

“I think my water just broke.”

The whole table goes quiet—then two seconds later, Rhett and I are scrambling to our feet and rushing to her side.

“Sit,” I insist, pulling out her chair at the end of the booth. “Are you having contractions? How far apart are they?”

Before she has a chance to answer, Rhett’s squatting low in front of her.

“Breathe, Maddie girl. It’ll be okay. Is your hospital bag packed? Do you want me to call the hospital so they know you’re coming?”

Maddie narrows her eyes and purses her lips while she scrutinizes her brother. He’s doing that signature Rhett Wheeler jaw tic. A pointed glance from Maddie to Tori is all it takes for him to be wrangled back into the booth. I would laugh at his expense if I wasn’t drowning in the exact same concerns.

“No contractions,” she finally answers, turning back to me. “But, uh, I probably shouldn’t have sat down.”