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Leeann looks elsewhere, innocently.

“Kids,” Mrs. Winslow finally steps in, “that’s enough. August, can you see how much longer until the food’s ready?”

“A quest.” She rises gallantly. “Mayhaps I shall stumble upon an assassin in the midst of it.”

Swearing and clearly not actually all that concerned about the upholstery, Wynnter circles the couch and plops into the seat his sister vacated, cramming the rest of us into the itty-bitty space leftover. He grumbles, “Mom, are you sure August doesn’t have brain damage? How many times did you drop her as an infant?”

“Only half as often as I dropped you. You know you’re older. I was more practiced once I had her.”

Wynnter stares at his mother, who provides him with a toothy grin. Hefting a sigh, he rakes me over and onto his lap—in front of everyone—before melting around me and closing his eyes. “Is Christmas all planned yet?”

“Yep.” Alister appears out of nowhere dressed completely in black. Phone propped in his hand, he says, “I’ve already drafted a spreadsheet for it. Annnd it’s just been sent to the group chat.”

“You’re crazy,” Wynnter grunts.

“That’s why I fit in so well.”

Smiling, Leeann shifts her attention to catching up with Alister, and I take the moment to sink into the warmth and the sensation of family. Often, at my parents’ house, the holidays were great excuses for them to plan events and boost connections with their clients or partners. The season was rarely ever cozy. Even though my mother and father always tried to commit at least a few spare moments of time to me, that’s all it ever was.

Spare seconds. Sparse instants. Barely anything at all. Just whatever they could scrape off the bottom of the pot.

I was grateful they made an effort at least.

Or, I should say, I am still grateful they made an effort.

But, sitting here in Wynnter’s arms with the promise that the next four weeks will be full of people who have made time for each other first, I know I’m finally where I want to be.

This is right. And good. And safe.

This is everything I have ever wanted.

This is family.

I just wish my parents could see it and feel it and, perhaps most importantly, accept it, too.

Chapter 13

◼

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Wynnter

“I’m so excited,” December says, breathlessly, bouncing in the passenger seat of my truck as we speed down the highway toward Mistlemore, a quaint nearby town decked out in Victorian-style architecture, right down to their fast food restaurants. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“You’ve always wanted to see the most pompous McDonald’s in the world?” I ask.

Bright-eyed, she looks at me, “I’ve always wanted to go to the Gingerbread Mansion.”

I hum. “I would have thought you’d have gone at least once since you’ve been here. It’s not exactly an unrefined excursion.” And the only reason we’ve added it to our family’s Christmas plans this year is because August married a millionaire.

The tickets to go look at elaborate food sculptures in glass cases are, shockingly, pricey.

“My parents are always really busy around this time of year with clients and relations and meetings. The holidays are a prime time for purchases across the board. Prime time for entertaining.” She laughs, but the sound is lighter than I think it should be, like it might break at any moment. “I can’t really picture doing anything like this with just the three of us, and I was rarely ever brought on business activities.” Shedding her fragility, she beams. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Coming to a stop after taking the Mistlemore exit off the interstate, I let my eyes drink her in. It’s frigid tonight, temps dipping toward the teens, so my sweet Dece has tucked herself all up in white fleece. I hardly know how to describe the outfit. It’s just cute, thick, and warm from the little fur-hemmed cape around her shoulders down the long skirt to her tights.

In a few words, I’m being spoiled tonight. In so many ways.