A Stag Family Christmas (Stag Brothers Book 4)

by Lainey Davis

  “Fuck! Thatcher! God, yes!” Emma locks her eyes onto mine and I can see the moment she falls over the edge, even as I feel her pulsing, her muscles contracting all around me. Before I know what’s happening, I lose myself. The pleasure washes through me and I explode inside her while she twitches in the aftershocks of her orgasm.

  “Gah!” I bellow out with a final gasp, thrusting once more before collapsing on top of Emma. And then I immediately get scared I’m going to hurt her and the baby, and I roll us over so she’s on her side on top of me.

  “What’s with the gymnastics?” Emma brushes her wild red hair out of her face, sticky with sweat.

  I shrug, afraid to spoil the moment and bring up the pregnancy. She still hasn’t said that she’s going to go through with everything, even though I think the window has passed where she had to make that choice. I fall asleep with her in my arms, determined to keep her there, wondering what I need to do to help her feel safe.

  13

  TIM

  I never thought I’d enjoy Thanksgiving dinner. For so many years, it was just my brothers and my grandmother and me trying to figure out some stovetop stuffing and a frozen turkey breast. Hell, most years I barely took off work.

  Today, my wife has been in the kitchen since dawn with a spreadsheet, an entire rope of garlic, and a Bing Crosby marathon on the stereo. Petey and I have been vacuuming and setting out extra chairs, since Alice’s whole family is walking over in addition to my brothers and their growing families.

  “Is dere juice, Daddy?” Petey looks out at me from under the dining room table.

  “We have a whole case of juice boxes, kiddo,” I tell him. “Want to help me get them from the garage?” He nods and we walk to the kitchen door, which is frosted over. It’s been incredibly cold for November, even though Thanksgiving comes late this year. “Better grab a coat before we head out there, Petey,” I tell him, holding out the bright red fleece that apparently used to be mine when I was little. My grandma found a box of kid clothes squirreled away in the attic when we renovated. My mom had bought really nice stuff, intending it to last through 3 kids. I smile thinking how pleased she’d be to know that her grandson is learning to work a zipper in the same coat.

  I look over at Alice, sweating in a tank top with her hair tied on top of her head. Her Stag tattoo has healed by now, standing out fierce and black on her shoulder blade against her creamy skin. I still think it looks sexy as hell. She catches me staring and smiles. I cough, adjusting my pants, remembering that our son is waiting for me to grab the juice and any minute now, our house will be filled with very loud, very opinionated relatives.

  As if I conjured them, they start pouring in just as Petey and I get back inside with the juice boxes. The Petersons—Alice’s extended family—all live a few blocks away, and they showed up en masse. Amy grabs an apron and starts helping Alice make side dishes while Amy’s kids fight over who gets to baste the turkey first.

  I’m about to yell at them when the front door opens and I see that it’s Emma’s friend Nicole. “Hey,” I tell her as she strides inside like she owns the place. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I knew,” Alice yells from inside the oven, and Nicole rolls her eyes. She thrusts a bottle of wine into my hands.

  “I work all the time and my family is too uptight,” she says. “Emma says I could horn in on some Stag madness without anyone getting judgmental.”

  I chuckle at the thought of my family in the position to judge anyone else. “You’ll be trading a lack of judgment for everyone getting up in your business,” I tell her. “This bunch never knows how to butt out.”

  Nicole laughs and pulls up a stool at the bar. Within a few minutes, she’s giving Amy suggestions on how to do her nursing charts more efficiently and talking to Amy’s husband Doug about grading his students’ papers. While she solves everyone else’s problems, an epiphany washes over me.

  Suddenly the solution to my problems is plain as day, as if the “Star of Wonder” Bing is crooning about is shining down on my kitchen. “Nicole.” I stand up and walk over next to her. “You have to come work at Stag Law.”

  Amy and Alice laugh, but Nicole simply cocks her head to the side and contemplates what I’m saying. “You know I have a career already, right Stag?”

  I wave this away with a hand. “I’ll pay you more and give you more creative control,” I tell her. “I need a business manager. A process engineer. Someone to steer my firm, make strategic decisions while I handle the clients.” It’s the perfect solution I’ve been looking for. I don’t need another lawyer. I can shake my wallet at the law schools up and down Forbes Avenue and find 50 good lawyers. I need someone with a mind for strategy, a cool decision maker. “I’ve seen you arguing Emma through a decision.”

  The words come before I pause to consider that this is a sore subject. Emma and Thatcher aren’t even here yet, though. Fuck it. “Every time I see you, you’re solving people’s problems for them, or guiding them to make a more efficient choice. I need you. Stag Law needs you. Name your price, Nicole. You can start Monday.”

  I’m not sure what I expect from her in response to this outburst, but she swigs her wine and looks around the room. My nephews are clinging to my legs trying to avoid one another in a game of tag. I’d usually shake them off and shout, but I’m so sure in my footing today I just let them be. Nicole furrows her brow and says, “You’re insane, Tim Stag. You know that, right?”

  “I’m aware. I also know my client list is unbeatable. I’ve got a roster of hot clients a mile long. Plus, Alice makes all the food at work. Haven’t I heard Emma say you sometimes forget to eat or have to send out your assistant while you work the treadmill desk?”

  Within a few minutes, Nicole has negotiated an impressive salary and arranged to bring her assistant along with her to Stag Law. What the fuck do I care if she brings her own admin with her? I could never function without Donna. Nicole’s guy will fit in just fine.

  I surprise myself by leaning in for a hug, taken aback by my own excitement at this solution, but she places a palm on my chest. “We are not hugging, Timber. I don’t do that.” We are spared any awkwardness when my father arrives with Thatcher and Emma, who looks a bit grey but seems to be in a better mood today.

  “All right, it’s ready,” I hear Alice yell from the kitchen. I look over my shoulder to see she’s lined up the feast on the counter, buffet style. For the first time in weeks, I feel starved. My head is clear now, and I can settle down to really enjoy a feast. I hadn’t realized how heavily my career situation was weighing on me on top of everything else.

  Ty and Juniper bustle in the door just as everyone is sitting down, and Alice gives me a nod.

  “Hi everyone,” I say, tapping my fork against my beer bottle to get their attention over all the chatter. “It’s been a crazy couple of weeks. I wanted to thank Alice for pulling all of this together for us.” I’m interrupted by my family whooping and banging on the table in thanks, which makes me grin despite myself. “Go ahead and roll your eyes all you want, but I want us to take a moment and each share something we are thankful for. You can tackle me later when we walk up to the park to play some football.” I have to yell now above my brothers groaning and making threats about my throwing arm. “So anyway, I’d like to start by saying how much I’m going to miss working with Her Honor, Judge Juniper Jones, but I’m thankful that I managed to poach Nicole Kennedy to join me as Director of Strategy at Stag Law.” I raise my glass to Nicole, who nods. My family applauds and Alice teases that now I can finally pull the peppermint stick out of my behind.

  I elbow my brother Thatcher to my left, who looks like he wants to go next.

  He coughs and looks at Emma, who nods. Thatcher swallows and fidgets with his napkin before grinning. “Emma and I are going to have a baby. So I’m pretty fucking thankful for that.”

  14

  THATCHER

  Emma and I fall asleep before 8 o’clock on Thanksgiving. We stay
ed up most of the previous night talking about her pregnancy. We read every word Dr. Khalsa sent us and looked up the high-risk obstetrician that Tim emailed me about. It wasn’t until Emma saw me finishing up making a nightlight for Ty and Juniper that Emma started crying and saying she definitely wanted to have our baby.

  I pulled her into my arms and pressed her face against my chest, forgetting the fragile gift I’d worked so hard to get just right. The nightlight fell to the floor beside me as I held tight to this woman who means so much to me. I haven’t been able to think about anything else since we got the news that Emma was pregnant.

  It felt like a knife to my guts when Juniper found out she’s pregnant, too. As soon as he got over the shock, Ty has been happy as shit about the baby and telling everyone he encounters that his wife is carrying his offspring in her womb. Of course I’m happy for my brother, but his obvious joy about the pregnancy is hard to swallow when my girl is struggling so hard with our news.

  I wanted to do something nice for my brother and Juniper, so I made them a nightlight. I remember Tim and Alice were up all the time with Petey when he was young. Babies don’t know night from day. I want Ty and Juniper to have a soft glow so they don’t trip and fall over Ty’s big shoes or something stupid like that. Especially while they’re carrying the little Stag. Seeing me work that glass, hearing me explain it to her, Emma told me she had a vision of me as a father, and that made her feel happy. Safe. Hopeful.

  So now Emma is finally feeling brave enough to consider us taking this journey. She’s taking this risk with me, for us. A baby. A small Emma-plus-Thatcher. I feel a knot in my throat and work to swallow it as I look over at her sleeping beside me in the darkness of early morning. We are supposed to go holiday shopping with my family today. Alice has a whole plan about hitting up the Christmas market and then going ice skating…I don’t even know if it’s safe to take pregnant ladies ice skating.

  We eventually get up and head to meet my brothers, adding on extra layers since we will be outside for a few hours. Emma looks cute as hell in double leggings, since she says she can’t get her jeans on anymore. I love watching her pore over the trinkets at each of the booths in the market, listening to the Christmas music piped in over the loudspeaker. I see a bunch of kids in line to visit Santa, and I can’t help but grin. Here I am with my family. My future.

  Emma drags me over to look at some homemade yard signs. The craftsman at the booth explains he can etch any last name into his templates. “We’ve got ‘Santa Stops for Smiths,’ or maybe ‘Johnsons On The Nice List.” I try not to roll my eyes at the cheesy snowman and reindeer images, but Emma is into it, tracing over the sample signs lovingly. She walks away abruptly, and I frown again, remembering that there is still some outstanding legal business with me and Emma.

  I’m hit by an overwhelming desire to make Emma somehow MORE mine. Right now. I want her to feel like we can buy a Stag Family yard sign. Like she deserves the tattoo Juniper and Alice got. All morning, I feel restless.

  We find Tim and Alice and Ty and Juniper somewhere around the wooden ornament booth. The weather is gorgeous. The sun has that bright white hue only a crisp winter morning can bring, and I love looking at Emma’s red hair flowing out from her white knit hat. She and Alice decide they want hot cocoa, and we walk away from Ty right in the middle of his outrageous story about some sort of rabid raccoons in his neighborhood.

  “Dude!” he shouts after me as Emma and I duck into line at the cocoa stand. “I wasn’t done telling you about the crazy woman whose cat got caught in the raccoon trap!”

  Tim is of course interested from a legal standpoint and starts asking all about who is taking responsibility for the traps and any potential damage inflicted by the theoretical rabid raccoons.

  Emma takes a sip of her cocoa as I fish some bills out of my wallet and I grin seeing the whipped cream mustache left behind after her first gulp. I lean in to lick it off her lip as my brothers groan and tell us to get a room. All of this—my brother telling some ridiculous story, my other brother wanting to know the legal ramifications—this all feels so right.

  Even them teasing us about public display of affection. Except something about the way they say it makes me upset again. I don’t need to get a room with Emma. We live together. I built a loft for her. For us. But I’m not married to this woman, and for whatever reason, that starts mattering to me a whole lot.

  “Hey,” I say as we all walk toward a stand selling hand crafted spoons.

  “No,” Emma says. “You cannot have a sip of my cocoa. Get your own.”

  “Very funny, Chezz. I was going to say…well, I was going to say I want to be your in case of emergency person. Did you update your papers yet?”

  She sighs. “Not yet, Thatcher.” I’m not sure why I’m pressing on this, but for some reason, as I look at all the couples around me in love, shopping for gifts together for their families, I just can’t stand it that Emma isn’t my official family. She’s growing my damn baby, and I’m not allowed to ask her doctor stuff about it if something happens to her. All the recent worry catches up to me all at once and I feel manic. I glance up at the clock above Santa’s cottage and remember that we are downtown on a Friday morning. It’s just after 9am.

  “Come with me,” I say, grabbing her arm and hanging a sharp left from the Christmas market. I start stalking toward the courthouse.

  “What the hell, Thatcher,” Emma hisses, clomping along behind me in her clogs. My brothers bought bags of warm nuts and follow along, curious, munching and teasing me, but I have tunnel vision. A singular plan. We enter the lobby of the courthouse and a quick look around shows me what I’ve been looking for: the service window for marriage licenses.

  “Emma Cheswick,” I say, not pausing, not stopping, heading right toward the window. “I want to marry you. Right now. I need to be your husband.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

  I hear Ty and Tim laughing in the background, and I don’t care. I feel like the whole world is off kilter. “If I’m your husband, they have to tell me what’s going on if you’re unconscious,” I whisper-yell. The couple in front of us skips away with their paperwork.

  “Thatcher.” Emma yanks her arm loose and puts her hands on her hips. Juniper and Ty are cramming nuts in their mouths, watching us like we’re in a movie or some shit. I shake my head and lean over into the window. The clerk looks at me with wide eyes.

  “I need a marriage license,” I say. “How long does that take?”

  “Thatcher Stag, I do not agree to marry you,” Emma protests. “Not this way. Not like this. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “You want me to get on one knee?” I ask, forgetting for a minute that my family thinks we’ve been actually engaged for years. The clerk slides me a piece of paper and I kneel, the cold marble sinking through the thin material of my jeans and making me shiver a bit. “Emma Cheswick, I’d like you to marry me. Right now. Please.”

  “This is unbelievable,” Emma says, yanking the piece of paper out of my hands. She drops it in the trash can and storms out of the building, Alice and Juniper trotting after her. Shit, I think as the icy realization of my mistake settles into my bones. I get up and walk over to a bench and scrub a hand through my beard.

  “Do you think she’ll be back,” I ask my brothers, who are still standing in the lobby staring at me.

  Ty laughs and sits next to me, the wooden bench groaning a bit under our combined weight. “I do not think that, dude,” he says. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Tim puts his hands on his hips and frowns, then exhales slowly through his nose. “I know what you need here,” he says, plucking the marriage license paper from the top of the trash. “Other than a notary, I mean.”

  “I’m listening…”

  “You need a gesture now, Thatcher. Because, brother, that was really fucking painful to watch.” Ty laughs and butts in that he thought it was hilarious. I punch him
in the shoulder and that shuts him up. Tim folds the license and puts it in his coat pocket. He claps a hand on my back and says, “You need Mom’s ring.”

  15

  TY

  Juniper scheduled her swearing in ceremony on an off day for the Fury, so sure enough the entire team came to the courthouse to watch. All those big hockey players crammed in the seats beside Juniper’s rowing friends and my extended family makes for a tall crowd.

  And we’re noisy as hell, because Juniper is awesome. She might not have any blood relatives, but she sure has a huge chosen family in Pittsburgh rooting for her. I love her confidence as she walks in, looking sexy as fuck in her robe and high heels.

  She’s only a little bit pregnant, and already her tits look massive, which I definitely appreciate. I sort of zone out during the short ceremony, because I get distracted by how good she looks. I can’t tell if pregnant women really do glow or if she’s just so damn happy to be made a judge that she shines. Either way, she looks good. I squeeze her hand and stand beside her, knowing Tim is taking pictures and I’ll get to look at that expression she’s got any time I want.

  Alice wanted to cater the party for Juniper afterward, but we all talked her into being a guest and enjoying herself. Juniper let her pick out the restaurant and the menu, and as soon as we wrap up official City photos, everyone starts to head over to the fancy place on Penn Ave where Alice rented the top floor party room. For some reason, Juniper said it was ok not to have alcohol since she and Emma can’t drink. Alice suggested we go booze-free, which is ridiculous because Alice usually loves beer at a party. I leave my brother Tim to explain that my teammates are looking at a dry morning while I follow Juniper to her chambers to change.

  “Mmm,” I say, planting a kiss on her neck. “I love that you have chambers.”

  “Meet me in my chambers,” she says, tugging on my tie and pulling me into the room, which is really just an office with extra chairs so Juniper can hear smaller cases. She closes the door behind me and turns the lock. I cock my eyebrow at her, wondering what she’s doing.