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I nod. "It does."
"I have to check on the turkey!" she gasps as her eyes glance up at the clock above the mantle.
"Mommy!" Brianna calls from the top of the stairs as Mom disappears. "I need help with my dress!"
There's a knock on the front door as I look up at Brianna.
"Give me one minute," I say.
Her tiny feet thunder down the stairs behind me as I head toward the knocking.
"Who is it?" Brianna asks.
"Not sure," I answer as she slides her hand in mine. "Let's find out together."
When the door opens, my heart pitter-patters in my chest. There's a poinsettia plant in one of his hands and an arm full of presents in the other.
"You're early," I smile as his SUV backs out of the driveway.
"Been a long afternoon," he licks his plush lips. "My mom is having a bad day, so Erin, her caregiver, is taking her home."
"I'm sorry," my smile turns into a frown.
Brady shrugs as Brianna sways back and forth beside me. "It is what it is."
I squeeze Brianna's hand and step out of the way to let Brady in. When Brianna notices the backpack he's wearing, she points to it and says, "What's in there?"
"My pajamas," Brady answers without missing a beat.
"You're staying the night, too?" her eyes widen in surprise.
"I am," Brady nods. "Is that OK with you?"
Brianna gives him a quizzical look as I shut the door. "Do you like hot chocolate?"
"I love hot chocolate," Brady replies.
"Hmm..." Brianna taps her finger on her chin. "What's your favorite hot chocolate toppings?"
"Marshmallows," Brady raises his eyebrows. "What's yours?"
"Marshmallows, too!" Brianna jumps up and down. As she does, I notice her red, velvety dress needs to be zipped up in the back.
"Come here," I say to her as Brady awkwardly balances all the presents in his arms. I quickly zip up Brianna's dress. When I'm finished, I take the poinsettia from Brady. "Christmas tree is this way."
He follows me as Brianna makes a beeline for the kitchen.
I help Brady set the presents beneath the tree. Then, I check over my shoulder before grabbing his arm and standing on my tippy toes to kiss him.
"Merry Christmas, my bride," he whispers.
A tingling sensation pricks my scalp. "Want me to show you to our room?"
"Our room?" he grins.
"Our room," I reinforce.
"Can I give your mom her poinsettia first?"
