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“Careful now. Don’t fall into the tree,” I playfully tell him, watching with pride as Saint hikes our son higher to reach the branch for his star.
“Uncle Caleb. You ready?”
Caleb gives Saint a two-finger salute as everyone else gathers around the tree.
“Countdown from three,” Caleb calls from the electrical box with his finger hovering over the switch. “Ready?”
“Three, Two, one. Happy Christmas!”
We all cheer in delight as the lights flash on the tree, and Colton takes Cole off Saint’s shoulder to dance with him and Jordin when Caleb puts on Christmas music.
Saint pulls me into his arms, and tears spring to my eyes, watching how content everyone is. Who would have thought five years ago that we would all end up here together?
“Are you happy, Angel?”
I kiss him hard, not caring who’s watching.
Pulling back, I smile into his gorgeous blue eyes that shine with lust. “I’ve never been happier.” And that’s the damn truth.
“Daddy. Daddy.” Cole shakes Saint’s leg to get his attention.
Saint bends and lifts our son in his strong arms, their black hair and blue eyes perfectly matching.
“Daddy, Uncle Colton said we can make a snowman now. Can we, dad, please?”
Saint looks at me to gain the okay, and I nod.
“Hats, scarves, and gloves, please.”
“Okay, mommy,” Cole reaches over to give me a kiss and a hug before yelling at his dad to get a move on. I swear he takes after Saint when it comes to having no patience.
“You coming?” Saint asks, palming my cheek.
I place my hand in his. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Sixty
Itakeastepback, admiring our huge six-foot snowman as Jordin and Mrs. Watson carry out trays of hot chocolates for us.
“He’s the best snowman ever, mommy. Nanny’s going to love him when she comes.”
I tap a questioning finger on my lips. “Hum. I don’t know. He’s missing something.”
My brows lower, then my eyes flick to Saint’s to gain his attention. He’s throwing snowballs at Caleb and Colton, who are returning fire like a bunch of big kids. I swear, looking at them, you would never think these were mafia men who carry guns to work and, well, you know…
“What’s wrong, Angel?” Saint called as I tilted my head to check the snowman over again.
“It’s missing something.”
“Always the perfectionist,” Colton chimes in like a smartass.
Saint calls a momentary timeout with the boys before coming over, and creating a checklist of everything the snowman is wearing.
“Hat and scarf,check. Branches for arms,check. Stones for his mouth, eyes, and buttons,check. Yep,“ he says, popping the P with an arm around my waist. “Looks good to me. What do you think, little man?”
“He hasn’t got a nose, silly.” Cole belts a series of high-pitched laughs at his dad, who bent down to tickle him for calling him silly. “Mommy, he needs a carrot for his nose.”
I smile brightly at my son. “Clever boy,” I say, ruffling the bubble of his hat. “See, Saint. I knew something was missing.”
