“If she needs it,” he says like it’s no big deal. Then he pulls me into a long, lingering kiss before saying, “But I’m the one who’s really won.”
I try to think of a response, something worthy of the sentiment, but then Noah shifts, moving his mouth to my neck and the attention he gives the skin just below my earlobe robs me of all rational thought. So I surrender. I let the rest of my words go, and I fall into his kisses, get lost in his touch.
We stay there on the couch, wrapped up in each other’s arms long enough that at some point, we both decide we can’t be bothered to split up and head to our own rooms. The couch is comfortable enough, and there’s something magical about falling asleep in the soft glow of the flickering fire and the twinkle lights on the tree.
I lift my head from where it’s resting on Noah’s chest and prop my chin up so I can look at him. His face is relaxed, his eyes closed. “You are a very good Christmas present, Noah Hawthorne.”
He grins. “You aren’t so bad yourself. The best Christmas present I had no idea I wanted.”
“Thank goodness for Olivia,” I say as I tuck myself back into his shoulder.
He leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Thank goodness for Olivia.”
Fourteen
It feels fitting that,since her name was the last thing we uttered before falling asleep on the couch, Olivia is the first thing I see when I wake up the next morning.
At least, Ithinkit’s Olivia. Based on Noah’s very groggy, “Olivia?” just seconds after we’re both jostled awake, it feels like a reasonable assumption.
The woman looming over us has stunning red hair and wide green eyes and a smile bright enough for a toothpaste commercial. Her eyes keep darting back from me, to Noah, then back to me again.
I can’t be sure, because I have only been awake for a matter of moments, but she appearsveryhappy to have found us asleep on the couch together.
“What are you doing here?” Noah says as we both shift and sit up.
“We came home,” Olivia says.
And that’s when I realize she isn’t the only new person in the room. An older couple is hovering just behind her, looking at us with curious and slightly bemused expressions. Beyond them, the rest of the house is alive with activity, people walking in, carrying things up the stairs and down the hall into the kitchen.A man who looks remarkably similar to Noah passes through the living room carrying a box of wrapped presents. Same jawline. Same hair color. He must be a brother.
Finally, all the pieces click into place in my brain. The couple right in front of us must be Noah’s parents. Everyone else—that’s the rest of his family.
All the Hawthornes are home.
“What happened to Italy?” Noah asks, and I allow myself the momentary distraction of how raspy and sleepy his voice sounds first thing in the morning. I tuck it away as yet another thing I love about him.
“Italy was great,” a second man says from the entrance to the dining room. I spin around to see him and suck in a little gasp. Because it’s Flint Hawthorne.Flint. Hawthorne.Oscar winner. Sexiest man alive.TheFlint Hawthorne. “Butsomeonestarted talking about how Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas if we weren’t all together,” he continues. “So here we are.” He looks over at Noah. “Hey, Noah. Good to see you, man.” Then he looks over at me. “Megan, right? Nice to finally meet you.”
The fact that I do not freak out over the very casual way he greets me is something I will always be proud of. “Yeah. Nice to meet you too.”
“You guys did not have to come home for me,” Noah says.
“Don’t believe Flint,” Olivia says, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You were an easy excuse, but the villa he rented for us wasnota villa. It was honestly awful. Giant castle. Stone walls. Absolutelyfreezing.We mostly came home because we were all so tired of being cold all the time.”
“So…you’re complaining about staying in a castle in Italy?” Noah asks
“See? Thank you,” Flint says. “It was a nice place.”
“Fine. It was nice,” Olivia concedes. “It was also frigid.”
The older woman standing behind Olivia steps around her and sits down on the chair perpendicular to the couch. “Can we talk about what’s really important?” she says, her gaze shifting to me. “Noah? Can you introduce us?”
I find myself sitting up a little taller, hoping against hope that my makeup isn’t smudged down my face and my hair isn’t a complete mess.
Noah clears his throat, then reaches over and takes my hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “This is Megan Sheridan. Olivia hired her to stay here and look after the farmhouse while everyone was gone. Megan, this is my mom, Caroline, and that’s my dad, Graham. You saw Spencer walk through a minute ago, and I assume my other brothers are around here somewhere.” Something loud clatters in the kitchen. “Along with everyone else.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say to Noah’s parents. “I look forward to getting to know you both.”
Caroline’s expression is warm and kind. She and Noah have the same blue eyes, and her short gray hair is cut into a sleek bob. She reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s lovely to meet you too.”
