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Lincoln grins and scoops me up, sending my phone clattering to the floor. The last thing I hear from grandma is laughter and, “I’ll see you for dinner then. I’m going to hang up now. I don’t want to see or hear whatever is coming next.”
EPILOGUE 1
Lincoln
Six years later
"Santa was here! Santa was here!" The children chorus as they burst into our room and jump on our bed.
"What? No way. It isn't even Christmas!" I joke.
"It is so, daddy!" our three-year-old, Kayley, yells, a huge smile on her face as she jumps up and down, her dark curls bouncing about her head like springs as she does. She’s completely adorable like her mom and knows she’s got me twisted around her chubby little finger—also like her mom.
"Noooo,” I tease. "Christmas isn't for two more weeks. You're mistaken."
"Daddy, stop!" Rosie, our five-year-old laughs, not having any of it. "We already saw the presents around the tree."
"You, my dear girl, are far too smart for me. It's genetics. You're smart, just like your mother. Did you know that it was your mother’s genius that saved our company?”
“Yes, daddy. You tell us all the time,” Rosie says, but she climbs onto the bed with us anyway, settling in to hear the story of their mother’s and my first Christmas and how that led in to my beautiful sugarplum becoming a New York Times bestsellers twelve times in six years. The woman astounds me. In the six years since we’ve been together, she’s been my rock and my salvation. Every day is a gift. With Emma by side, every day feels like Christmas.
“I love that story,” Kayley says with a sigh. “You are just the best, mommy.”
Emma giggles, lying against a thick stack of pillows as our third child grows in her belly. “You know, your daddy is my hero too. I couldn’t have done anything if he wasn’t a brilliant man who knows exactly when to listen and exactly when to be bossy. Like right now when I need him to drag me out of this bed so I can pee because my belly is so big I can barely move.”
The girls squeal and laugh as I stand and scoop my pregnant wife in my arms and carry her to the en suite bathroom. “Merry Christmas, sugar,” I say as I set her down. “I have a special gift for you later.”
Her eyes light up. “I hope it’s dick,” she whispers. “You know how horny I get while I’m growing these babies of ours.”
I drop a kiss on her nose. “Why do you think I keep getting you pregnant?”
With a laugh, I tap her on the backside before I exit the bathroom and return to our girls who are being cheeky and jumping on the bed. They freeze when they spot me, and I pretend I didn’t see. It’s Christmas after all.
"All right, girls, take me to this magical mountain of presents."
EPILOGUE 2
Emma
Ipractically waddle my way into the living room where Lincoln has the girls sitting by the tree while he dons a Santa hat and digs through the presents, pretending none of them have their names on them. The girls laugh and bounce where they sit, dying to tear off the colorful paper and ribbon to see what’s inside.
“Oh, maybe we can pretend the gifts are for the girls then,” I say as I take my seat near them. “Surely Santa wouldn’t bring the wrong gifts.”
“You’re right,” Lincoln says. “I wasn’t reading the right way up. This one is for you, Rosie.” He hands everything out, one by one, the girls tearing and squealing and having the most wonderful time. My cheeks hurt from smiling because I never dreamed my life could be like this. Each Christmas, I sit back and reflect on what my life was like before I gave myself to Lincoln, and I feel so warm and loved by this big burly man who bossed me around then made all of my dreams come true. So many couples settle into a rhythm and take their love for granted, but for me, I find my love growing with each passing day. I’m in love with him as a man, as a father, and even as my publisher. He amazes me and treasures me and goes out of his way to make sure that there’s never a doubt in my mind over his love and devotion to me and our family. I am his, and he is mine, and there isn’t a greater gift than that.
“Merry Christmas everyone,” I say as I hold up the camera and take a photo.
“Merry Christmas,” they chorus back, and I lock eyes with Lincoln, our bond making my heart swell in my chest.
“It’s a boy,” I whisper, placing my hand on my belly.
“A boy.” The look on his face says it all. “We’re having a boy?”
The girls jump for joy because they’ve been begging for a little brother, and Lincoln rushes over to me, placing his hand on his belly. “I am now a man who has everything. I love you so much, sugar.”
“I love you. You’ve given me everything I could every want and more.”
SOPHIA
