by Heather Lyn
We make the drive to Mason’s in silence, my hand clasped tightly on her thigh. When we pull in, we both laugh when we see Jules jumping up and down in front of the living room window. We haven’t even made it to the porch before she’s swinging the door open wide, wearing green-and-white striped leggings with a white shirt and a Christmas headband.
“I take it someone is ready for Santa, huh?” Stella asks, giving her a huge hug.
“Oh, you know it, Auntie Stella. Wait till you see what I made you at school today.”
“You’re still in school?” I ask, surprised she’s still going this close to the holiday. Christmas is in six days.
“Last day, Jace. She starts vacation Monday. Well, technically today,” Stella tells me, and I nod.
She’s dragged into the living room by Jules, who holds tight to her arm. Mason is sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, a beer in his hand. He offers me one, and I nod, following him into the kitchen.
He hands me one and I twist the top off, taking a pull. I go to ask him about the photo when he pokes his head into the living room. “Hey, Stell, I need to show Jace something downstairs. Can you sit with Jules for a sec?”
“Of course,” she yells back, and he motions toward the hallway.
I follow him, and he pulls a door open on the right, stairs leading down. He takes me into the basement, and off to the right is what looks like a storage area.
Mason sets his beer down on a tote and reaches for a small manila envelope. I don’t miss the way his hands shake as he pulls it open, extracting a 4x6 photo. Slightly charred on one side, it’s covered in soot and a sticky film. Taking a good look at it, I see the photo was taken outside, probably at a barbeque in the summer. Mason and Stella are standing with their parents, all of them holding on to each other.
Mason has his arm around their mom, and Stella is between him and their dad, her body turned slightly to the right, probably laughing at something Mason said. He’s the spitting image of their dad, and their mom was absolutely beautiful.
Just like her daughter.
Knowing I hold the only photo of their family, taken mere months before they died, my throat swells. When I look up to see Mason’s eyes filled with tears, I hand it back to him to put in the envelope.
“I hope they can fix it.”
“I’ll have a copy blown up for you too. Stella said the whole house went up. How’d this survive the fire?” I muse, taking a sip of my beer.
“I went in after the fact with a couple of investigators, trying to see if anything was salvageable. It had fallen off my mom’s bureau and was behind it. It was the only part of their bedroom that wasn’t completely destroyed. Everything else was gone. No baby pictures, school yearbooks, nothing. So that picture surviving was a miracle, and it being saved, I can’t even tell you what it’ll mean to my sister.”
“Does Stella even know about this photo?” I ask him.
Mason nods. “I showed it to her the day I found it and it just made her cry, knowing our only real memory was ruined. So this will blow her away.”
“I just hope I don’t kill her. You should have seen her reaction to the nursery.”
He smirks. “Oh yeah? How’d she like it?”
“She sobbed. Said it was perfect.”
“Yeah, that’s normal Stella. Just add in a couple babies and she’s extra weepy.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t change her for the world.”
Mason just smiles at me, and we head back upstairs, the manila folder in his hands. As we step back into the kitchen, I find Stella trying to do some latest dance craze with Jules, both of them watching some YouTube video on Stella’s phone. Mason motions to me, and I watch him slip out the back door, knowing he’s going to stick the envelope in my truck.
Leaning against the doorframe, I watch Stella and Jules dance around, their cheeks flushed as they try to perfect the move. It’s like looking into the future, but only with two sweet girls. They finish a minute later, just as Mason steps back into the kitchen.
“Glovebox,” he says, and I nod, lifting my beer to take a drink.
“What are you guys up to out here?” Stella asks.
I just shrug, holding my drink in the air.
“Boys and their beer,” Jules says with an overdramatic sigh, and we all laugh at her.
“You guys wanna stay for dinner?” Mason asks, but Stella shakes her head.
“I have plans with this one and Chinese food. Your nieces don’t want to miss out on beef and broccoli and kung pow chicken.”
“No worries, Stell. Are you two gonna come over on Christmas Eve?” he asks, and she turns to look at me.
“Santa Claus marathon and Christmas pj’s?” I ask, and she laughs.
“You remembered.”
“One of the very first things you told me about yourself. And yeah, we’re there, Mason.”
Jules starts telling me all about what we’re gonna do, and I get lost in her excitement, realizing this is definitely going to be the best Christmas in a long time.
At least until next year.
§
At seven in the morning, I quietly climb from bed and make my way to the kitchen. Last night at Mason’s, after all three Santa Claus movies and hot chocolate and popcorn, Stella and I headed for home. But while Stella was busy tucking Jules in, reading a Christmas book to her before bed, I gave him his copy of the restored photo.
The place I brought it to did a spectacular job, and you’d never know the photo survived a fire. He was able to trim the burned edges and cleaned the soot and stickiness from it. When he scanned it into the computer, he was able to brighten the parts that were too dark, and now it looks perfect.
I’ve never seen Mason cry, and he kept it together pretty well, but I saw the sheen in his eyes. He hugged me and thanked me, and I wasn’t sure if it was for the photo or for taking care of Stella, but either way I returned it.
Busying myself, I make a stack of pancakes and chop up some strawberries. Putting the teapot on the stove, I set it to boil while I make myself some coffee. I’m just about to pour a cup when Stella comes walking into the kitchen, dressed in one of my work T-shirts and a pair of cropped leggings.
“Merry Christmas.” She yawns, running her fingers through her long locks.
“Babe, I was making you breakfast in bed,” I groan, wanting to surprise her.
“It’s okay, I had to pee like a racehorse. What’d you make me?” she asks, coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist from behind. I feel her warm lips press to the back of my bare shoulder, and I turn my face to kiss her head.
“Pancakes. Strawberries too, since they’re your favorite.”
“Yum.”
“Merry Christmas, baby.”
Stella takes a seat at the island and reaches for the stack of pancakes, taking three before grabbing the bowl of strawberries. I watch her pile the pancakes high with the slices and then drown them in syrup. The teapot begins to whistle, and I shut the stove off, pouring some water into her favorite mug.
“What kind of tea do you want?” I ask.
“Do we have any of that peppermint left?”
Peering around the cabinet, I find one left and turn around with it between my fingers.
“Thank you.”
Grabbing my cup of coffee, I move around the island to sit next to her. She hands me a plate with three more pancakes, sliding the syrup to me.
“They good?” I ask, and she groans, taking another bite.
“So good. And I’m hungry this morning. Luckily I don’t feel too nauseous, so I’m hoping these stay down. Sorry, that’s gross.” She laughs, and I shrug.
“Doesn’t bother me. I know you can’t help it.”
“So what time are we going to your parents’?” she asks, reaching for her tea and blowing on the steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip.
“Mom said they’re doing presents at eleven, and then lunch is at one.”
“And you’re sure they don’t mind that Mason is coming over?”
“No, baby. He’s part of the family too.”
Stella had mentioned last night that Jules was going to her mom’s house for Christmas around ten, so without a second thought, I invited Mason to my parents’. He seemed surprised, but I just shrugged it off.
He’s Stella’s family, so he’s my family.
“So, do you want to do presents here or at Mom and Dad’s?” I ask, finishing my cup of coffee.
She takes the last bite of her breakfast and swallows.
“Here. ’Cause you’re gonna need your gift today.” She winks and saunters out of the room, my eyes trained to her ass the entire time. Pregnancy has been beautiful to see Stella grow into, and I’m even a little damn sorry that her ass is even more devastating.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
She looks back at me, reaching for the broom. “To get your last gift.”
I tilt my head at her, but she ignores me as she walks out of sight. A couple minutes later, she comes out with a box in her hands and the broom tucked under her arm.
“Oh wait,” I say, understanding dawning on me. “Is that what you put under the bed a couple weeks ago and then got stuck getting back up?”
She starts laughing at me and nods, and I can’t help the belly laugh I let out.
Grabbing the dishes, I set them all in the sink and pour myself another cup of coffee. Making a pit stop in the bedroom to throw on a T-shirt, I find her waiting for me in the living room, sitting down next to the tree.
“Let’s do this,” I say, rubbing my hands together.
“I might have gone overboard,” she tells me with a shrug as I settle down next to her. She hands me a red box and I open it, finding a new coffee cup that says #1 Dad. I give her a wry grin before I kiss the hell out of her, pulling back with a smile.
“I love it, Stell. I’m drinking my coffee out of this every single day.”
Over the next ten minutes, we each open miscellaneous gifts, and then I hand her a small box with a bow on top. She pops it open to find a diamond drop necklace, and her eyes widen in shock.
“Oh, Jace, it’s beautiful.” She fingers the delicate chain, and I lean over to kiss her again.
“Beautiful necklace for my beautiful girl.”
“Thank you. I love it so much. Now here. This is your big gift, and I want you to promise me something.”
She hands me the box that was hidden under our bed, and I set it on my lap.
“And what’s that?”
“I want you to promise you’ll use it every day. And not just for us.”
I give her a questioning stare, but she just points to the box, her grin infectious. Tearing the paper away, I swear to God my heart stops for a moment, the meaning behind her promise suddenly making sense, and I have to fight back the urge to cry.
A camera, and a beautiful leather bag for it to go in.
“Stell….” I can’t manage any more, unable to speak around the lump in my throat.
“I want you to take pictures again, Jace. I want you to fall back in love with photography. You lost enough on that day, baby.”
Tears prick my eyes at her words, the term of endearment she’s never used, and just the simple fact that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this extraordinary woman. Setting the box to the side, I pull her into my arms and bury my face in her neck, breathing her in.
“Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely, pulling back to see tears on her cheeks.
“Merry Christmas, Miller.” She kisses my cheek and gives me a smile.
“You still have one more to open, babe.”
Reaching around her, I carefully pick up her gift. I had it framed and wrapped so it wouldn’t get damaged, and I carefully set it on her lap.
“I need you to know something before you open this.”
“Okay.”
“The nursery was going to be your big gift, because I wasn’t sure if I could get you this. Mason is the reason this happened, I just want you to know. I can’t take all the credit for this.”
“I’ll make sure I thank him today,” she teases, and with that she opens the gift, looking confused as hell when she finds bubble wrap. Sliding her finger under the tape on the side, she carefully unwraps everything, and I’m on pins and needles watching her.
My eyes are locked on her face, wanting to see her reaction the second the image is uncovered. She laughs when she sees how many layers are covering it and I give her my best innocent face. The final layer comes off and she turns the frame over, one of her hands immediately covering her mouth.
Her eyes well up with more tears that fall unashamedly down her cheeks. Uncovering her mouth, I watch her bottom lip tremble as she runs her fingers down the glass, unable to look away from the photo.
“How…? How on earth did you…?”
She lifts her head to look at me, and I reach out to brush at her tears, though more quickly replace the ones I clear.
“Mason had it in a box. I guess he found it when he went back with the investigators before they had to tear everything down. I found someone in town who could restore it, and I brought it to them.”
Stella chokes on a sob and carefully moves the photo out of the way so she can climb onto my lap. She winds her arms around my neck and sobs against my throat, her entire body trembling.
Rubbing circles on her back, I press my lips to the top of her head, leaving them there to comfort her. I have no idea how long she sits there crying, but finally she pulls away, using the back of her hand to wipe her tears away.
“Thank you,” she whispers hoarsely.
“Anything for you, baby.”
“You have no idea what you’ve just given me, Jace. I’ll be able to show our babies their grandparents. It killed me knowing they’d never meet them, but it hurt knowing I had nothing to show them. No baby pictures, nothing. I can never explain how much this means to me. I love you so much, Jace Miller.”
“I love you too. And this might be the only picture, but we’re gonna make sure our girls know them, Stell. I promise you that.”
“Thank you.”
I lift her chin with my fingers. “Now, if we’re done with all these tears, can I spend the rest of Christmas morning with you in our bed?”
“I think that can be arranged.” She smiles, her whole face aglow.
I don’t bother responding. Helping her up, I watch her set the photo of her family on the mantle, her fingers lingering on the frame. Then she makes her way to me and grabs my hand.
“You, Jace Miller, just made this the best Christmas of my life.”
“It’s about to get a whole lot better, baby,” I growl in her ear, and she throws her head back, laughing hard.
Lifting her into my arms, I carry her to the bedroom and kick the door shut, then deposit her on the bed, where we spend the next hour.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
STELLA
Jace pulls into his parents’ driveway, Drew’s truck already there. Mason texted me a few minutes ago to double-check the address and let me know he’s on his way.
After the most perfect Christmas morning together, Jace and I both showered and got ready for lunch here. I settled on a pair of maternity jeggings and a cream-colored sweater with my brown boots. Jace looks handsome as ever in my favorite Levi’s and a hunter green Henley. His hair is brushed back off his face, and like always he’s sporting the perfect amount of facial hair.
I reach up to finger my new necklace, Jace’s eyes trained on my movement.
“I’m glad you like it, Stell,” Jace tells me, looking over with a smile.
“Did you pick it out yourself?” I question, and he nods.
“It was one of the first pieces of jewelry I saw. I knew right away it was you.”
“You did good, Miller.”
Kissing his scruffy cheek before we get out of the truck, I reach into the back seat for the tray of cookies I made, and Jace picks up the b
ox filled with gifts. We make our way inside, the smell of burning wood strong. Stepping into the foyer, I’m hit with the scent of gingerbread and something else that makes my mouth water.
Drew walks up to us, a coffee cup in his hand. “Merry Christmas, guys!” he shouts, rushing forward to take the cookies from me.
“Merry Christmas, Drew. Don’t you look dashing?”
He laughs, looking down at his sweater, the giant Santa on it eating a cookie and wearing sunglasses.
“Hey, bro,” Jace greets him, slapping him on the shoulder as he walks to the back of the house, leaving Drew and me alone in the foyer.
“So, how’d this morning go? How’d he like his gift?” I had called Drew the day I bought Jace’s present, and he made sure I knew I picked well.
“Loved it. I think it meant a lot to him. He brought it with us.”
Drew kisses my cheek and slings an arm over my shoulder, walking me back to the kitchen. We’ve only just stepped over the threshold when the babies kick. Taking hold of Drew’s coffee cup, I grab his now free hand and press it to my stomach, his eyes widening when his hand is bumped.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, lips turning up into a large grin. “That’s so cool.”
“Isn’t it, Uncle Drew?” Laughing, I hand him his coffee back and step farther into the kitchen, greeting his parents with hugs.
We’re making small talk when Jace hands me a cup of tea with a kiss, the doorbell chiming a moment later. Jace excuses himself to answer the door, and I set my cup down, hurrying across the kitchen as fast as my belly will let me, reaching the doorway as Jace walks in with Mason, a large platter in his hands.
“Mase, you’re here!”
His chest rumbles with laughter as I squeeze him tight, and he kisses me on top of my head.
“I just saw you yesterday, goofball.” He smirks.
“So what? It’s Christmas day, I’m big and hormonal, and I love you.”
“I’m just joshing you, Stella. You look beautiful. How are those nieces of mine doing?”
“Huge. I’m halfway in, and I don’t think I can get much bigger or I’m gonna pop.”
