“He’s the soldier of death,” Richard says dryly from his spot on the couch. Sandra is tucked into his side; they’re the only ones paying attention to the movie playing. It’s a Wonderful Life.
I swallow back a sudden swell of emotion as the memory of watching that movie on the diner television with my mom hits me. When I was little, she loved it, the way she liked other classic things—music and art and fashion. After my father left, the movie made her too sad, and I’ve never pushed us to watch it. I haven’t seen it in years.
“The only fair thing is to dump them all in the middle,” Sandra says. “Everyone makes a grab for it.”
“Do you really want Seb to get Coop into a headlock again?” says James.
She raises her eyebrows at her son. “All’s fair in love and games.”
“Well said, darling,” says Richard, punctuating that with a kiss.
James wrinkles his nose, but I smile. The bittersweet ache in my chest won’t go away tonight. We had breakfast for dinner—apparently a Callahan family tradition on Christmas Eve—and that reminded me of the diner. A big, cozy family event like this? I never had that; even when I had both of my parents in my life, it was just the three of us. No older siblings to tease or younger siblings to torture.
“Okay,” James says, shoving all the pieces into the center of the board. “On three. Three, tw—Cooper!”
34
JAMES
After midnight hits, I carry Bex to bed.
She’s a little tipsy, her breath smelling like Irish cream, cheeks flushed, mouth slack. I am too; the longer we played the game, the more Bailey’s we added to our hot chocolates. Cooper pulled out a completely improbable win after the back-to-back bankruptcies of Seb and Bex, and that came hours after my parents bid us goodnight.
She fits right in with my family, just like I thought she would. My mom loves her. And the more time Dad spends with her, the more he’ll love her too. I’m totally biased, sure, but she’s impossible to resist.
I set her down on the bed gently, pulling off her sweater so she won’t get hot in her sleep. She whines, reaching for me when I move away to fold it and set it on my desk. Her fuzzy socks have little Santa hat-wearing penguins on them. Almost as adorable as the light-up Christmas tree earrings she wore earlier today.
“Let’s go to sleep,” I murmur, stroking my hand through her tangled hair. “Otherwise, Santa won’t come.”
She cups my jaw. “One day you’ll tell our kids that.”
“Bex,” I say helplessly. Fuck, she’s so pretty it makes my chest ache. Those beautiful brown eyes look at me in my dreams, and every day I wake up grateful I get to see them for real.
“I love you,” she whispers, so quietly I think for a moment I imagined it.
But she keeps looking up at me with confidence shining in her eyes, and I know she really said it.
“Fuck, I love you.” I gather her up into a hug, fisting my hand in her hair. She digs her nails into my back. We stay like that for a long moment, breathing each other in. When I pull away, she has a tear tracking down her cheek. I brush it aside tenderly and kiss her.
“Show me how much,” she says. “Please, James. Show me.”
She peels her shirt off and flings it aside, shivering immediately. I pull her up the bed, settling us underneath the covers. I can’t stop kissing her; every time my lips brush her skin, she whispers encouragement.
I love you. The words are on a loop in my mind and on my lips as we move against each other. I love you. I love you. I say it so many times I get breathless. She’s laughing against my neck, smiling as she kisses me, moving with me in the cool quiet of my bedroom. I’m distantly aware that we’re not the only two people around; that even though it feels like it, we’re not alone in the world. But in this moment, it absolutely does. I’m in the house I grew up in, surrounded by the family I would protect with my life, but never has it felt so real and perfect and like home. Not until now. Not until Beckett.
If I could only pick one person to be around, one person to know, one person to love, for the rest of my life—I’d choose her.
We’re still pressed tightly together when I hear her breathing begin to even out. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I slip out of her. She turns into my chest, yawning, nestling her head against me.
No, we’re not alone in the world, but right now, underneath the covers—it does feel like we’re in a world of our own.
“One day I will tell our kids that,” I whisper. My heartbeat quickens at the thought. “Because I’m yours, forever.”
35
BEX
It turns out that Christmas morning is a lot more fun when you’re in a houseful of people, and when the guy by your side told you he loves you… and that he’s yours. I think James thought I was asleep last night for that part, but I caught it in between waking and dreaming. I’ve spent the morning curled up on the couch with him, watching his family unwrap presents while instrumental Christmas music plays in the background, and between the teasing and laughter, I haven’t stopped smiling. James’ siblings surprised me with a very thoughtful mini tripod and a book of Annie Leibovitz’s photography. James loved the monogrammed leather duffel I got him; I texted Laura immediately to thank her for helping me pick it out.
James presses a little blue box into my hands. “Here, princess.”
I look up at him, blushing like I do every time other people are around to hear the nickname. He has a gleam in his eyes that instantly makes me wary that he spent too much money on me. I recognize the particular shade of blue; I doubt there’s a woman in America who wouldn’t. When I open the box, a pair of cheesy football-shaped earrings fall into my lap. Which is adorable, but I’m too focused on the gorgeous pair of diamond hoops nestled into the velvet underneath.
“James, this is… this is too much.”
“Do you love them?”
I nod, touching one of the hoops with my fingernail. It’s so delicate. Pretty and perfect—just big enough to show off, but not too flashy. I don’t even want to think about how much he spent on them, especially after the camera.
“Then that’s all that matters.”
“You’re too sweet.” I lift one of the hoops from the velvet and put it on. “Did you help him pick them out, Izzy?”
“Nope,” she says. “That was all him. He disappeared into Tiffany’s for like, an hour. On Izzy Day.”
I kiss his cheek as I put on the other one. “Thank you. Although this means you don’t need to buy me another present possibly ever.”
My phone buzzes in my lap. I pick it up distractedly; I tried calling my mother earlier to wish her Merry Christmas, and she didn’t pick up. “Hey, Mom, Merry Christ—”
“Bexy. I knew you’d pick up.”
Darryl’s voice stops me cold. I get up, murmuring an apology to James, his family, the room at large—I don’t know. I can barely swallow. My heart is in my throat.
“Yeah, their house is beautiful,” I say loudly, so James won’t follow. “James got me the prettiest pair of earrings; I’ll text you a picture.”
Somehow, I make it to the bathroom. I lock the door and slump against it. “Darryl. What the fuck are you doing?”
“You’re with him?” He snorts. “Should have guessed. You’re still riding his dick for all it’s worth.”
“What do you want?”
“Is that all it takes, babe? A mansion and fancy earrings? I thought you had more substance than that.”
“I’m going to hang up.”
“Wait.” There’s a genuine note of emotion in his voice, so I don’t. Damnit, why is he calling me on Christmas? “I want to know.”
“Know what?”
“Why him?” He pauses, breathing heavily on the line. “Why’d you pick that asshole?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I barely resist the urge to correct him about Sara; he doesn’t have the right to that information, plus I don’t want him to know I caved and confronted James about it. “And he’s not an asshole, he’s my boyfriend and your teammate and you need to back the hell up.”
“You never wanted to meet my family. Go to my parents’ house. I had to drag you to dinner with them. The one time I tried to do something fucking nice for you and buy your stupid photography, you wouldn’t let me.”
I shut my eyes. “Who cares, Darryl? It was a year ago.”
“I know I fucked up when I cheated,” he says. “But I’m not letting you go.”
“You need to.”
“No.”
“Saying no won’t—”
“No,” he snaps. His voice cracks over the line like lightning. “Don’t fucking tell me no.”
I take a deep breath. I’m trembling, but it’s not like he’s actually here. He’s in Boston with his family. I’m on Long Island. We’re hours away from each other; the freakin’ Long Island Sound is between us. But his voice feels so forceful that for half a second, I have to resist the urge to look over my shoulder.
“Bexy,” he says, his voice breaking, softer now. “I miss you. I still...”
I’m quiet for a moment. “Darryl, we’re not together anymore.”