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Mary Sue wiped her hands on her apron, stepped to the doorway, and called out, her voice warm and carrying.
“Alright, y’all! Breakfast is ready! Come on now before it gets cold!”
The stampede was immediate.
Sage came skidding in first, cheeks flushed, hair wild, still clutching a Nerf gun like a trophy. “Oh my gosh, Mama — it smells incredible in here!” She stopped dead at the edge of the table, eyes going wide. “Did you… did you make all of this?”
Cal followed right behind her, Lily still perched happily on his hip like she belonged there. The little girl’s mouth fell open in pure awe. “Whoa… Mr. Bear, look! Cookies for breakfast!”
Cal’s deep chuckle rumbled through the room as he set Lily down gently. His gaze swept over the feast, then landed on Mary Sue with that quiet, grateful softness that always made her throat tighten. “Mama… this is too much.”
“It’s not nearly enough,” Mary Sue said, waving a hand like it was nothing, even as her eyes shimmered.
Annie and Tommy came in next, both breathless and grinning like kids themselves. Isabelle, Michael, and Ethan tumbled in behind them, Nerf darts still stuck in their hair. For a moment the whole room went still — just the sound of happy breathing, the soft clink of serving spoons, and the rich smells rising around them.
Sage slipped her arm around Cal’s waist and leaned into him, voice dropping to something reverent. “Babe… this is the kind of breakfast people write stories about.”
Little Lily was already climbing into her chair, eyes locked on the cookie plate like it was pure Christmas magic. “Can I have two cookies and bacon, Auntie Sage?”
Laughter rippled around the table as everyone found their seats. Cal pulled out a chair for Mary Sue first, then one for Sage, his big hand resting warmly on each of their shoulders for a moment — a silent thank-you that said more than words ever could.
Mary Sue sat down last, heart so full it almost hurt. She looked around at all these faces — her impossible giant of a son, the woman who had brought laughter and light back into his life, Annie looking younger and brighter than she had in years, the kids still buzzing with joy — and felt a peace she hadn’t known in decades settle deep into her bones.
“Dig in, family,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “Before it gets cold.”
And just like that, the table erupted into happy chatter, clinking forks, and the kind of messy, joyful noise that only happens when love is the main ingredient.
SAGE
It was time to open the gifts.
Gifts were stacked three deep along the entire far wall, spilling around the base of the enormous Christmas tree like colorful lava. They had colonized the coffee tables, claimed both massive Cal-sized couches, and were making a serious play for the ottomans. One huge gift bag had already surrendered, its white tissue paper trailing across the wide-plank hardwood like a flag of defeat while smaller presents spilled out in a glittering pile.
Sage stood in the wide doorway with her second cup of coffee, surveying the glorious wreckage. The living room smelled like heaven — fresh pine from the towering tree, woodsmoke from the crackling stone fireplace, and the faint vanilla-cinnamon sweetness of Mary Sue’s cookies still drifting in from the kitchen. Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, gentle snow fell in lazy, fat flakes against the white Montana midday, softening the jagged mountain peaks in the distance.
“There is something deeply wrong with all of you,” she announced, lips twitching.
“Noted,” Isabelle shot back without looking up. She was cross-legged on the floor in soft cashmere joggers, sorting gifts into neat, terrifyingly efficient piles. “Sit down, sis. You’re blocking the flow.”
Sage laughed and picked her way carefully through the minefield of presents, stepping over a tower of boxes labeled for Ethan. “I’m just saying… he’s eight.”
“Ethan is thriving,” Isabelle replied, deadpan.
“Well, I don’t—”
SMACK.
Sage yelped, rubbing the generous curve of her ass. “Izzy, for the love of—”
Isabelle grinned up at her, utterly unrepentant. “Don’t blame me. You walk around in those yoga pants with that badunkadunk and expect me not to slap it?”
Sage laughed, eyes sparkling. “Oh, I’m so getting you back for that later.”
From across the room, eight-year-old Ethan looked up from where he’d been slowly drifting toward the gift wall like a moth to flame. His grin split his face, showing every single tooth. Behind him, Lily stood frozen by the wall, eyes wide in pure disbelief at the sheer scale of the chaos.
“Mama… is this like… Christmas heaven?” she asked in her small voice.
Annie, her face moving between disbelief and overwhelmed wonder, shook her head and smiled politely as she sat on the edge of one of the huge leather couches. “I guess so, sweetheart.”
