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Dad winks at me and then gasps. "Oh, is that so? Well, next year I'm just going to have to write my address a bit more clearly then." He takes Beth’s hand as she drags him over to the tree where Robbie is looking through the presents. Ryder and Dad set the extra gifts we brought over down with the others.
Robbie jumps up and tugs on Dad’s Christmas jumper. "Grampa, look what Santa got me."
Dad beams with absolute joy at his namesake and crouches down. "Oh, a fighter jet! Did you know your Daddy flew in a jet just like this one back in the day?"
Robbie grins, a spitting image of his father. "Yeah! And he said that he'll show me pictures later."
Dad scruffs Robbie on the head. "Is that so? I'm sure you'll love those pictures. Now then, who wants to help Granma make cookies?"
Beth jumps up and down. "Me! Me!"
"Me too! Me too!" Robbie bounces up and down, then sprints to the kitchen. Both Mom and Dad following after.
"Robbie, watch out! You're going too fast. You might hurt yourself," I call after him. Ryder squeezes my hand, grounding me. I look at him, and my heart melts for the ten millionth time in the last five years. Hand in hand, we walk into the kitchen to find Mom covered in flour.
"Merry Christmas, Mom," I say, coming in to give her a kiss on the cheek regardless of her floury state.
"Merry Christmas, Bunny. Oh, no, Bella! Your face is all covered in flour now," she says, chuckling.
Ryder comes to the rescue with a damp cloth and wipes the flour off both of our faces before kissing Mom on the cheek. "There. All clean and pretty as a picture. Merry Christmas, Molly."
"Oh, my hero! Merry Christmas, Ryder, dear!" she replies, returning the kiss.
"Coffee, you two?" Dad asks after putting Beth on a chair next to Mom.
Ryder grins. "When have you ever heard us say no?" He follows Dad to the coffeepot, filled with freshly brewed coffee, and I have a moment where my heart just swells. I love how close my parents and husband are. They’re friends as well as family, and it really brings me so much joy to share my world with them all.
"Granma, can I make the snowman ones?" Robbie says, tucked between my floured-up mother and the kitchen table.
"Oh, oh, oh, I want to make the snowflake ones!" Beth says, bobbing up and down.
There's so much love here, I can't help but feel emotional. Mom and Dad have been there for Ryder and I since day one. They absolutely love their roles as grandparents—although I have to keep an eye on Dad to make sure he doesn't spoil themtoomuch. Since we've moved back to Christmas, cookie baking has been a part of our growing list of holiday traditions alongside the annual tree lighting and us going skating together behind Town Hall.
When we first met, you could describe Ryder as growly and quiet. But over the years, he’s worked so hard on healing the scars of his past that you’d struggle to find much of a growl in him at all anymore—except in the bedroom, of course. Since his confidence in ice-skating grew, he has been teaching the kids how to skate too, with great patience and understanding. He will gladly pick Robbie up should he ever fall, and Ryder never scolds him if he makes a mistake. Ryder is a wonderful father, and he's a wonderful husband. Every single day since we tied the knot has been the happiest of my life.
"Shall we get the fire started, then?" Ryder asks as he returns to my side, steaming cup of coffee in hand for him and a hot cocoa for me—stirred with a special Swiss chocolate spoon, of course!
"Indeed, we shall," I reply, linking my arm in his.
Much to our delight, there are already some logs stacked in the fireplace. There have been many a time where Dad forgot to fill up the cupboard where he normally stores the logs, so removing the need to even have that search is a great weight off of our shoulders.
I take Ryder's mug out of his hand and start to fluff up the loveseat in front of the fireplace while he gets the fire going. I marvel at his well-sculpted ass as he works, and my lady parts get going as well. Now that we have two kids, we have to steal away time to make love—time that has become increasingly more demanding in recent weeks since Ryder wants to get us pregnant again. But every moment that we do manage to get to ourselves is as amazing as the last. I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting him.
Giggles float out of the kitchen as Ryder comes to the loveseat and sits next to me. "I will never get tired of hearing their happiness," he says after a sip of coffee, kissing my shoulder as he nestles in. "And I won't ever tire of the way you smell. God, honey. You have me wanting to jump across rooftops for you every damn day."
"I’d risk it again for you in a heartbeat," I say, scooching in close for a cuddle. "Merry Christmas, my love." I lift my mug in a toast.
"Here's to many more," he says, tapping his coffee mug to mine before leaning in to kiss me softly. I won'teverget tired of the taste of his lips, the feel of his strong hands, the weight of his body when he presses himself upon me....
“Do you think…” I slide my eyes to the side as I lick my lips and meet my husband’s amused eyes.
“Think what, honey?”
“That they’d miss us if she snuck away for a… Christmas quickie.”
Ryder releases a groan as he tucks my hair behind my ear and leans in nice and close. “First one in the front door gets the first orgasm,” he says before we’re both on our feet, calling out something about forgotten Jell-O as we’re rushing through the snow back to our place.
My husband pauses and purposefully lets me through the door first.
