She giggled, making her skin vibrate. “You weren’t smart enough a whole two hours ago?”
“Hey, I like to think I’m a grower.” I pulled back from her neck to rub the tip of my nose against hers.
She laughed as I pulled the apron over her head. “That you are.” Then she carefully smoothed her curls, even though trying to tame her wild mane was an act of futility. I liked her hair that way—wild. Opposite of my girl, who was so risk-averse she was always telling me some stat about how I was probably going to die of my own stupidity.
“Are you ready for the party?” she asked me, then nervously cast a glance around our home.
“Yeah, you?”
She nodded. “I think so.” She bit her bottom lip. It took all I had not to tug it free with my thumb before she added, “Do you think we have enough hot cocoa balls?”
“You ordered two for every person,” I retorted. “One’s enough to send someone into a diabetic attack.”
She laughed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I smiled back at her. “Well, then I think we’re ready.”
As if someone could hear our conversation, the doorbell rang. Della did a little happy dance, escaping my arms to go answer it. Smiling to myself, I hooked the apron onto her apron rack near the stove—because yes, Della had one for every occasion—and followed her to the door.
She opened it, letting in a gust of cold December air, revealing her parents silhouetted by the gray sky. They were just as punctual as she was, arriving about five minutes early.
When they came inside, I held out my hand to shake her dad’s, then gave her mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She rubbed my back and I flinched—just a little—because of the new tattoo. But I did my best to hide the reaction.
“Good to see you, Mama,” I told her. She had insisted I call her that, and it felt good to finally have someone to call “Mom” again.
“It smells wonderful in here,” she said, glancing around while she tugged off her mittens. “You two did a great job decorating.”
“It was all Della,” I said, taking her and Della’s father back to the kitchen to show them the cocoa bombs and the cookies Della made while Della stayed in the doorway.
Looked like my dad was coming up the sidewalk, holding Aggie’s hand.
Within fifteen minutes, it was a complete madhouse—kids running back to the guest bedroom to watch TV and play video games in the room Della had designed just for them. Adultsmingled about the kitchen and living room, standing in the free spaces and catching up even though we all lived in the same damn town and saw each other all the time.
Della had once confided in me that people used to question why she had such a big house as a single woman, but I knew it was just her being sensible—preparing for moments exactly like this.
When everyone had arrived and the Christmas music had officially wormed its way into my brain, Della clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and said, “Hey! Let’s get started!”
2
DELLA
I was practically burstingwith excitement as all the guests in the living room and kitchen gave me their attention.
I grinned widely and said, “Welcome to the first annual Madigan Hot Cocoa Party!”
There was a little cheer that rippled throughout the room, and even Hayes cracked a smile. Chopper let out a happy little yip from his perch in the corner of the living room—a dog bed shaped like a throne.
“So everyone—fill your glass with milk and choose your hot cocoa bomb! We’ve got whipped cream and anything else you could want to add, plus my special sourdough cookies. I promise they taste better than they look!”
A polite chuckle rolled through our group of loved ones. Standing there, seeing the group, I couldn’t help but get a little emotional.
I had been used to going to my parents’ house and having Christmas with just the three of us every year. I loved them and always enjoyed the holidays because they both worked to make it special. But this? I couldn’t even begin to explain how special it felt.
After dreaming of having my own family for so long, my life just felt so much more complete with Hayes in it. Especially since his family was part of the deal. I loved them all so much—especially my best friend, Liv.
Everyone lined up to grab their hot cocoa bombs, and I stood next to Liv. I realized it was the first time in a while that she wasn’t pregnant, nursing, or even holding a busy toddler in her arms. Crazy how life changed, but our friendship’s stayed strong through every stage.
“Merry Christmas,” I whispered to her with a smile.
