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Her head bobs in agreement, and we slip back into the dining room. I had hoped we’d do so without drawing any attention, but all eyes turn our way.
Nana raises a brow from the head of the table. “Everything okay back there?”
I smile. “Yep.”
Angie nods. “Yep. They’re eating. I told them I’d bring them pie.”
Nana smiles. “Good. It wouldn’t be Christmas without a piece of my apple pie, right?”
Everybody murmurs their agreement, and my gaze immediately darts to Storm, who watches me carefully, her eyes bouncing between Angie and me. She knows something else happened. The woman can read me and her daughter way too well to let it slip past her.
The moment I retake my seat, Storm slides her hand over my thigh and squeezes it, leaning in. “Are you two okay?”
I drop a kiss on her cheek. “Better than okay. I promise. And Allie’s fine.”
“Good.”
Savage clears his throat from where he sits at the foot of the table, across from his mother. His bright-blue eyes scan over every one of us, and he raises his wine glass. “I’d like to make a toast.”
Everyone drops their silverware and grabs their glasses, even the kids, whose glasses are filled with sparkling grape juice.
“I know this Christmas has offered us a surprise, but I just wanted to say how happy I am that everyone has stepped up and done their part to welcome Jude for as long as he may be with us.”
His gaze darts to Luca and Byron, who exchange a look.
I can see it in their eyes—they already care about him far too much to ever let him go, just like I did the first moment I met Storm and Angie. From the moment I saw Storm at that party, I knew she was my future, despite her complicated past and how broken she was, how reluctant she was to let me in.
Grief doesn’t follow a linear timeline, and Jude’s recovery from what’s happened to him won’t be, either, but if anyone can help, it’s the people around this table.
Savage inclines his cup toward us. “To the Hawkes. Merry Christmas, everyone.”
“To the Hawkes,” the chorus goes up, and everyone takes a sip.
CHAPTER6
BYRON
The laughter and raucous arguments floating from the game ofPictionaryin the living room follow me down the hallway to Storm’s old bedroom. I pause outside the closed door.
Maybe I should just leave them alone.
I glance at my watch.
But they’ve been in there for three hours, without either of them coming out, so I should at least check on them.
I slowly turn the knob with a shaking hand and push it open, pausing to listen for a moment.
Allie’s light, lyrical voice floats through the cracked closet doors. “And then Angie told me I wasn’t allowed to use her makeup anymore, but she got a whole new kit this morning. So, I’m going to ask Mom if I can have her old stuff. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”
I grin as I wait for Jude’s response, but he either offers none or it’s said so softly that I can’t hear it.
One thing Allie will always do is chatter someone’s ear off, but it seems not to have bothered Jude the last few hours.
I start to pull the door closed, and it releases a squeak that makes me freeze and wince. Allie stops talking, and the closet door opens.
She pops her dark head out, her bright-blue eyes landing on me. “Oh, hi, Uncle Byron.”
“You guys okay in here?” I scan the empty pie plates sitting just outside the door.
