Page 11 of A Crawford Family Christmas

I’m laughing through tears now. “You think?”

When we pull back, his eyes are shining. “When?”

“After Christmas.”

He nods slowly, like he’s absorbing it, grounding himself. Then he grins, boyish and bright. “Then we’d better start baby-proofing the house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah, I’m sure.”

Before I can stop him, Quinn turns toward the bonfire crowd. “Hey, everybody!” he yells.

Roe looks up from where he’s sitting with Callie. “What now?”

Quinn’s grin is so wide it could light the farm by itself. “We’re gonna be parents!”

The reaction is instant — cheers, gasps, and applause. Rory lets out a whoop, Harrison stands to shake his hand, and Birdie wipes her eyes. Madison rushes forward, wrapping me in a tight hug, whispering, “Oh, honey. They’re so lucky already.”

Quinn’s brothers pile around him, clapping his back, laughing, hooting. It’s noisy, ridiculous, perfect.

When the crowd finally settles, Quinn leans close again, voice low just for me. “Three kids, huh?”

“Three,” I repeat, smiling through tears. “Two girls and a baby boy.”

He presses his forehead to mine. “We can do this.”

“I know.”

He grins. “But just to be clear…”

“What?”

“You’re still on marshmallow duty.”

I laugh through my tears, heart full to bursting. “Deal.”

And as the fire pops, and the stars blink awake above the rows of Christmas trees, I realize that somehow—somewhere between the chaos and the cocoa and the kids—we got everything we ever wanted.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one.”