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He bent down, pecked my lips, then walked off toward the kitchen. My phone lit up on the table, and I ignored it. All I wanted was some uninterrupted time with my man, and somebody in my favorites was contacting me. I knew it was a client or one of my sisters. When my phone lit up again, I snatched it up and went to the messages.

Juvie: You up?

Juvie: I got a question about the Audemars shoot.

Me: Yeah, what’s up? I just confirmed your measurements and preferences with them.

Juvie: Did you give them my allergy list? My dumb ass is laid up in the hospital now from salad dressing. Niggas ain’t tell me it had sesame in it. Got me lookin’ like a blowfish.

I snorted, laughing at the visual in my head. Em came back into the room and plopped down on the couch beside me.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, looking down at my screen.

“Juvie had an allergic reaction to some dressing,” I answered, glancing at him.

“Oh, aight. Wrap that work shit up, so we can chill.”

I replied to Juvie, letting him know that Audemars already knew he was allergic to sesame, then dropped my phone on the table. Then, I climbed into Em’s lap, resting my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my thighs. I sank deeper into him while Scandal played in the background. Whatever happened outside this house could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I just wanted my man.

Christmas breakfast was a Weston family tradition. Not brunch or dinner—breakfast. It was 7:30 on Christmas morning, and we were sitting on the couch at Emery’s parents’ house, waiting for his mom to finish breakfast. His brother, EJ, and his wife, Gina, sat across from us, looking stiff as hell. Gina didn’t particularly care for me, and I for damn sure didn’t fuck with her. She was judgy and believed a woman’s place was at home, raising kids and making sourdough from scratch. She could go to hell with all that.

Then, they had two bad ass kids that she was too scared to pop. Their son, Simeon, had one more time to run over my feet with his truck, and I was gon’ grip his ass up.

“Simi, apologize to Ms. Savannah. You need to be more careful,” Gina said to him.

“I apologize, Ms. Savannah,” he quickly said, then went right back to playing wild.

Their daughter, Kinsley, was twelve. She had a smart ass mouth. I wanted nothing more than to put her and my niece Mini in the same room to slap her around a little. Nobody could correct her but her father, and even EJ had let her slide too much. She sat beside her mom with reindeer pajamas and a silk press to die for. She looked just like Emery’s mom, Ronette.

Ms. Ronette walked into the living room, curls bouncing, wearing an emerald green silk robe over silk pajamas. Her light brown skin glowed in a way a lot of young women would envy. She did Pilates three days a week, got her ten thousand steps five days a week, and got her peptide injections. Emery’s dad worshipped the ground she walked on. More than half the gifts under the Christmas tree had her name on them, and most were from Mr. Elgin.

“Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes. Would anyone like some coffee?” she asked, looking around at everyone.

“Yes, please,” I answered, fighting back my yawn.

Gina’s nose crinkled as she shook her head. “Oh, no. Coffee stains your teeth. Do you have some tea instead?”

Ms. Ronette planted her hands on her hips. “Gina, honey, we drink coffee in this house. The only tea I have is peppermint for when we get sick. Would you like some of that?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Alright. Savannah, baby. Come on in the kitchen and help me set the table.”

I followed Ms. Ronette through the kitchen to the dining room and realized the table was already set. When I turned my head, Ms. Ronette dropped some Kahlúa in her coffee and stirred it.

“I only asked you to come in here because I know Simi is working your nerves as much as that damn Gina. Grab your coffee, so I can drop some of this in there. If this don’t work, I’m pulling out the Remy.”

I choked out a laugh. “Ms. Ronette. That is not nice.”

“What’s not nice is her not popping Simi’s little ass and being uppity as hell on Christmas morning. I can be bougie with the best of them, but her… I swear that girl acts like she forgot where she came from. Upgrading your life is fine, but acting bougie with family is crazy. Go ahead and get that damn coffee, so we can relax. Take Emery a cup too,” she said, waving me off.

I went into the kitchen, grabbed some coffee mugs, and filled them. Em’s dad, Mr. Elgin, stepped into the kitchen in his matching silk pajama set, happy as hell. Emery looked like his mom, but he had his dad’s complexion and height.

“Merry Christmas, Savannah. Glad you could make it to breakfast.”

“Merry Christmas. And, yes, Emery wouldn’t let me oversleep. He told me if I didn’t get up, I wouldn’t get my gifts.”

A smile broke across his face. “Well, I feel like that’s a fair exchange. Where’s my wife?”