Page 30

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

THE MAGIC OF CHRISTMAS MORNING

Willow

“Christmas wishes come true, especially when you’re holding my hand.” — M

I blink awake to the soft sound of a door clicking shut. I’ve always been a light sleeper, the smallest sound pulling me from slumber. I blink a few more times adjusting to the soft light filtering through the curtains.

Then, as if the magical night we’ve spent together is etched to my very core, every moment with Madden comes rushing back. It’s like watching a movie— each scene so vivid, so perfect.

The picnic he’d arranged in the garden—an intricate spread of cheeses, fruits, and my favorite dessert, confetti cake, which we never got around to eating.

But then, the memory shifts. The reason we didn’t finish the food, or the drinks… My cheeks flush at the thought, heat spreading across my skin as I replay the words that still echo in my head.

You want to be mine, Willow…

If you give yourself to me, I’m not letting you go.

My heart thuds in my chest wild and uncontrollable.

I close my eyes— feeling the weight of everything we shared last night— his touch, his gaze, his kisses. He looked so handsome in all black looking at me as if he'd been waiting his entire life for me.

Then he took me in ways no one ever has before. Last night, he made me his in ways I can’t put into words, but I can feel it. I can feel his kisses, his nips, the way his hands held me so gently. The way he took me drove me crazy with a need that I never experienced before. The evidence of what we did lingers in my skin. I can still feel him between my legs, where he took me with a possessive tenderness that left me breathless, wanting more of him.

So, I reach out my hand grazing the other side of the bed but it’s cool and empty. He’s gone… the only trace of him is his scent— a mix of his cologne and something uniquely him .

I sit up, heart fluttering. Where did he go?

The suite is quiet, except for the subtle noise of crystals clicking together. That’s odd.

Wanting to know what’s happening outside the bedroom, I quickly slip out of bed, my bare feet meeting the plush carpet, and head toward the living room. The moment I step through the doorway, my breath catches in my throat.

Oh…wow.

There, in the middle of the living room, stands a magnificent fifteen-foot Christmas tree, its branches heavy with twinkling lights and ornaments that shimmer like jewels in the dim light. But what draws my eye is how this tree stands apart from the other. Its bows are a mint green, and tiny ceramic fairies gracefully cling to its branches, as if they’re dancing under the twinkling lights. Everything about the tree whispers magic and wonder.

I can’t stop staring at it.

Beneath the tree, a cascade of brightly wrapped gifts unfolds, their green-themed cactus paper reminding me of the way my mom used to wrap presents when I was a kid. The gifts spill, across the floor, spilling into the bar area. There are so many… I can’t help but laugh in disbelief. Did he really do all this?

My grinch who clearly despises his Christmas and everything jolly?

Before I can take a step toward the tree, Madden appears, framed in the doorway with that intense look on his face that makes my knees weak. He’s a vision of raw masculinity in black satin pajamas, the fabric clinging perfectly to his muscular body. In one hand, he’s cradling a steaming cup of coffee, the aroma wafting toward me.

“Merry Christmas, Wild One,” he says, his voice low and teasing, playful grin curling on his lips. His black eyes sparkling with mischief. God, I love it when he looks at me like that because I know he’s happy and that’s all I ever want for him.

I smile back, my heart skipping many beats. “You did all this?” I ask, gesturing toward the extravagant tree and all the presents.

“It seems like Santa came,” he replies, stepping closer, his voice low with a flirty undertone. I don’t miss the double meaning, and suddenly the space between us feels charged. I feel the heat radiating off him, and a blush creeps up my cheeks, betraying the flutter in my chest.

“Wow,” I breathe, overwhelmed by the scene, by him. “You’re filthy, Madden.”

“Oh, you have no idea how dirty I can get, baby,” he winks and then strides over, the confidence in his movements making my heart race even more. Before I can gather my thoughts, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. The warmth of his body envelops me, and I melt against him, feeling safe and cherished and so much more.

His deep gaze locks onto mine, stealing my breath. Then, with a tenderness that sends butterflies fluttering in my stomach, he leans down and kisses me. The kiss is gentle yet passionate, as if he’s pouring his heart out to me with every stroke of his tongue and nip.

Overwhelmed with the rush of feelings surging through me, I lean into him, my hands finding their way to his hair, deepening the kiss. The taste of coffee and something sweet lingers on his lips, and I lose myself in the moment—lost in him. The magic of everything he’s this Christmas morning wraps around us like a world of its own.

When we finally pull apart, I can barely catch my breath. He grins down at me, his eyes bright with happiness. “Now, how about we open those presents…” he says, a playful glint in his eye.

As I pull back, a wave of unease washes over me. The sight of the lovely tree and the mountains of presents makes me acutely aware of the modest gift I’ve hidden away for him. It’s nothing compared to what he’s done for me. My heart sinks a little, and I feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks.

“M-Madden, I—” I start, but he cuts me off, his eyes softening.

“I only need you, Willow. You’re the best goddamn present I’ve ever received,” he says, and his sincerity makes my heart flutter. How sweet…

Shyly, I slip back into the room, quickly kneeling to retrieve the gift I had my uncle sneak in— don’t ask me how he did it, I’m not sure I want to know. With the box in hand, I return to Madden and hold it out like a fragile treasure, my hands trembling slightly. “Here,” I say, my voice a blend of excitement and nerves.

I really hope he likes it.

Madden takes the box, his brows furrowing slightly. “You really didn’t have to get me anything, Willow,” he murmurs grumpily yet there’s a small smile on his face.

“Just open it,” I urge, my heart racing as he begins to unwrap his gift. The paper falls away, revealing a plain cardboard box. He lifts the lid, and for a moment, silence nags between us.

I watch him, my pulse quickening as his expression shifts from curiosity to something deeper. He looks deep in thought and my stomach drops as I worry that he won’t like it. “It’s kind of silly,” I blurt out, my voice faltering. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

But then he looks up at me, and the intensity in his gaze takes me by surprise. “This is the second-best present I’ve ever received,” he says, his voice low and filled with emotion and his eyes still fixed on the gift in his hands.

Inside the box is a red, black, and white Formula 1 style jacket, his number proudly displayed on the front. At first glance, it might seem like a typical racing F1 jacket, but when he turns it around, the back reveals something entirely different. There, I’ve hand-painted it with love and care. I captured him as a boy, looking up at a future version of himself—older, successful, and full of ambition. The fierce determination in his young eyes mirrors the man standing in front of me now.

He gently lifts the jacket, fingers brushing over the fabric, and the look on his face is something I’ll never forget—pride, nostalgia, and love all intertwined.

“Fuck, fairy. I can’t believe you did this for me,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s incredible, Willow. You’re incredible and so fucking talented.”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

“Really?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, still not fully believing his praise. “You really like it?”

“What? Fuck, yes I do. You’ve captured the ‘me’ that no one sees. The hardship, the pain and the victory.” He steps closer, the jacket still in his hands, and pulls me for another hug before kissing my forehead. With my head pressed to his chest, I can hear his heart beating, a rhythm that matches the joy bubbling within me.

“I’m so glad you like it,” I whisper as I pull back to look up at him.

“I love it, Willow,” With a playful grin, Madden reaches for a festive red and white Christmas hat from the table, plopping it onto my head. “There…,” he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now the real fun can begin.”

“Ooooh, very festive of you. Who would've thought,” I beam up at him.

He rolls his playfully. “Sit your pretty ass down,” he urges, guiding me to the couch. “It’s your turn.”

“You really shouldn’t have. This is all too much,” I say, as I settle down, excitement bubbling within me.

“Nothing is ever too much for you. Besides, these are mostly from the big fat fucker,” he winks as he starts handing me gifts one by one.

Big fat fucker?

Santa Claus?

I snort as I read the name tags on several of the gifts. Sure enough, they all say From Santa Claus to Willow.Looking up at him, I grin. “You know… as much as I love the grinch side of you, I’m kind of becoming obsessed with the whole Father Christmas vibe you’ve got going on today.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mumbles before pointing to the gift.

I smile and tear it open to find a set of high-quality art supplies—pencils, paints, and sketchbooks. My heart swells; he remembers how much I love art.

“Wow, Madden…” I whisper, holding the items close. “Thank you so much. I love them!”

He simply smiles, his gaze encouraging. “Keep going.”

Next, I unwrap a few clothing items—a couple of dresses in the most beautiful shades of mint and blue. A dozen t-shirts with mushrooms on them just like my favorite one. “No way… these are so cute and the dresses are beautiful.” I say, beaming up at him. “Do you think they’ll look good on me?”

“Anything looks good on you,” he replies, a hint of mischief in his voice.

There goes my heart…

“Open these ones,” he hands me a few more boxes. Inside them I uncover a mountain of mushroom plushies in all sorts of styles and colors. “Are you serious?” I laugh, overwhelmed by how many there are. It takes me a while to open them all. “Twenty plushies?”

“I thought you could use a few more friends,” he says seriously.

Friends…

I can’t help but hug one to my chest, feeling giddy.

Looking up at him, I whisper, “Madden…”

“You’re welcome, baby. Keep going.”

Then, there are countless boxes filled with beautiful jewelry—gold necklaces and earrings that shimmer in the light. I’m not a girl who wears a lot of jewelry but these ones I will proudly wear because they’re gifts from his heart. “Madden, these are all so beautiful…” I say, incredulous.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replies, his voice warm.

Yup, he’s on a mission to turn my heart into his love slave.

Finally, I unwrap a collection of CDs. I pull them out, my eyes widening. They’re all true crime and serial killer documentaries. I burst into laughter, my heart full. “You remember!”

“Your love for macabre shit? Of course,” he says, his grin widening. “But seriously, Wild One. it’s not normal to be that obsessed with crime and gore.”

I shrug, smiling. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m not normal.”

But as I glance up at him, his smile fades, and his eyes grow serious. “You’re perfect, Willow.”

You’re perfect, Willow…

In this moment, as I sit surrounded by gifts, my heart feels like it's about to burst with how full it is. It’s not just the presents, but the thought and care he put into each one that overwhelms me. His sweet words that penetrate my soul, casting light into every dark corner that was once scarred by the cruel jokes of others.

Here he is, the most handsome and beautiful man I know, telling me I am perfect.

I look up at him, my eyes shining. “Thank you for all of this, Madden. Thank you for being you. You’ve made this Christmas unforgettable.”

“Hold onto that thought,” Madden stands up with a grin, heading toward a side table that I hadn’t even noticed before. My curiosity piques, I watch him as he rummages through the clutter of paper before emerging with one last gift—a small, elegantly wrapped box that gleams under the soft light of the Christmas tree.

He walks back to me, kneeling in front of the couch as he hands it over. “Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he says, his tone gentle. The tone of his voice as he hands me the box makes my heart flip inside of my chest as he looks up at me with that charming and heartwarming smile of his.

With trembling fingers, I unwrap it, my heart racing with each second that passes. I open the box, and inside, nestled in soft velvet, lies a breathtaking flower crown. The petals shimmer with green, yellow, and blue diamonds, each one sparkling like tiny stars. My breath catches in my throat, and tears spring to my eyes, blurring the world around me. The beauty of the crown is a work of art like something pulled from a dreamland or another realm.

“Madden… I-I can’t believe this,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the emotion flooding through me. “You. I. How…” I have trouble putting my thoughts into words.

He gently takes the crown from the box and places it atop my head. This moment feels like a dream. I look up at him, my eyes wide with shock and gratitude and a few tears.

He gazes down at me, his expression softening. “My perfect and sweet fairy,” he says, his voice filled with warmth and adoration. “Now you have your crown…”

My perfect and sweet fairy. His words echo in my mind, each one melting my heart a little more.

Tears spill over, and I can’t help but smile through them. “It’s beautiful,” I manage to say, the words barely capturing the depth of what I feel in this moment— what I feel for him. “You’re beautiful.”

He chuckles softly, brushing his thumb against my cheek to wipe away a tear. “Fuck, no, baby. You are all that’s good and beautiful about me.”

He’s wrong… Madden Hunt is all that’s beautiful in this world—beautiful and sweet, even when he acts like a grump.

I once read in one of my cousin Aza’s favorite poetry books that the word poison can be used as a symbol for something that is both intoxicating and dangerous— something that pulls you in despite its harm. Madden is not harmful but he is intoxicating and addictive.

He’s the sweetest poison.

Mine.

I can hardly process the love and thoughtfulness he’s poured into this moment. I lean forward, wrapping my arms around him, pulling him close. “Thank you,” I whisper against his shoulder, feeling the weight of his affection.

As I look into those dark eyes, the ones I’ve dreamed about every night since I was a little girl, I can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world. I reach up to touch the crown atop of my head, feeling the love he’s yet to confess, but it's there, woven into every gesture, every look, every word.

“You make me feel like magic,” I say, my heart brimming with love for him.

He shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You are magic, Willow,” he replies and then adds, “It’s always been you. Always remember that.”

No, I’m not magic. He is. He’s always been magic—the kind of magic that feels like a dream, the kind that feels like green.

I swallow, my heart aching a bit. “You know… I asked Santa to bring you back to me the night that you left,” I whisper sadly. “And look at that, he did.”

His eyes soften, and he sucks in a breath, almost as if my words surprised him.

“I never wanted to leave,” he murmurs, his voice low and heavy with regret. “But I didn't have a choice.”

I take his hand gently, pressing it against my chest, feeling the steady beat of a heart that beats for him only. “That doesn't matter,” I whisper, looking up at him. “What matters is that you're here now. With me.”

He seems choked up, his eyes momentarily clouded with emotion, before he nods. Then, with a sudden shift, he stands up, brushing his hands together. A warm smile spreads across his face. “Let’s have some Christmas breakfast, huh?”

I wipe my eyes, a laugh bubbling up from my chest as the joy and magic from the moment returns. “Did you make me breakfast, Chef Grinch?”

He flashes me a cocky grin. “I have many talents, most of them involving my hands, as you well know, beautiful.” He winks, and I blush. “But cooking? That ain't one of them.”

I laugh some more. “So, what’s on the menu?”

He winks, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Follow me and find out.”

I hop off the couch, the diamond crown still perched on my head, and follow him into the kitchen.

Madden pulls out a chair for me, and I take it a seat, not yet noticing the table. As I settle, I finally take in the sight before me, and my heart soars in delight. The table is beautifully set, each plate is filled with an array of breakfast treats, all crafted into different shapes—Rudolph’s with red noses, jolly Santa’s with fluffy white icing, and tiny gingerbread trees dusted with sugar.

There’s a plate with red and green waffles, perfectly stacked and dusted with powdered sugar. The colors and shapes make them look almost too beautiful to eat, like little holiday masterpieces. The waffles are shaped in festive patterns, with tiny snowflakes and star sprinkles.

“I can’t stand the cuteness!” I exclaim, my eyes wide with delight. “I love this so much!”

He grins, clearly pleased with my reaction. “Good.”