“What?” I asked, wondering what he was up to.
He brought his arm up to drape a familiar looking green leaf above my head and licked his lips, inching forward. “Merry Christmas, Angel.” He pressed his lips to mine, and I melted into them with a smile. He pulled back and kissed my nose before sticking the mistletoe in his pocket.
“Where’s mine?” Jace looked longingly at Blake.
“Don’t push your luck.” Reaching through the opening, Blake adjusted the radio. “So, what’re we jamming?”
Jace swatted Blake’s hand away. “Don’t even think about it, tight buns. That bitch is all mine. Music is my thang.”
“Well, then thang already. I hate a quiet car.”
Jace looked at me while he pushed the presets, searching the stations. “So demanding. How do you put up with him?”
“He’s hot.” I shrugged. “And he smells good.” My eyes glittered as I licked my lips and looked at Blake in the rearview mirror. “And he tastes even better . . .”
“All right, shutty. You’re making me lose my nog.” Jace cranked the volume. “Yazzz, here’s my jam!” Madonna’s Vogue invaded the car, and Jace bounced up and down in his seat, bringing his hands around to frame his face in different poses.
I laughed as Blake slammed his back against the seat, huffing and crossing his arms across his chest. I mouthed, ‘I love you’.
Blake sneered and nodded as if to say, ‘Yeah, okay’.
I shook my head, smiling. I loved having my two men with me. I just had to concentrate on holding onto this feeling for the next two days.
The warm and fuzzy feeling was gone already. I had dropped off Jace and now stood, holding Blake’s hand and staring at the white, custom colonial, two-story home that had housed both the best and worst memories of my life. Large windows overlooked the front lawn, and a quaint porch accentuated the large house.
Fuck.
“You okay, babe? You don’t look so good.” Blake put the back of his hand to my forehead.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” I chugged a bottle of water and gave him a smile.
“If you say so.”
He bent to retrieve our bags, then we started up the drive. I focused on the swing that held so many happy times. This was my home. My home. Not his. I squared my shoulders. I had my rock by my side. My boulder. I could do this.
Fuck. Him.
With a smile, I fisted the doorknob, hearing the Christmas music blasting on the other side. Knowing my trusting family would leave it unlocked, I twisted it and we waltzed right in. Garlic and clams and all things Christmas Eve curled through the air, and my heart constricted, missing the warmth of my family. An extreme homesick feeling slammed me in the chest like a bag of bricks.
My dad rested on the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table, catching flies as he snored. Smiling, I walked over and patted his arm, jolting him awake.
“Hey, ladybug.” He jumped up and pulled me in for a bear hug.
“Hi, Daddy. I missed you.” I squeezed back, enjoying the familiar scent of Old Spice.
“How’s my baby girl? Let me look at you.” He held both of my hands in his own and inspected me. “You’re too thin. Your mother needs to put a little meat on your bones before you leave.”
I waved him off. “Stop it, I am not.”
My dad looked to my left. “So who’s the mountain?”
Blake laughed and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ricci. I’m Blake.”
My dad shook Blake’s hand. “One sec. Let me lower this.” He turned the music down and then focused back on Blake. “So you’re a lawyer, I hear?”
“No, not yet. That’s the plan, though,” he said on a nervous chuckle.
“Yeah, well, don’t let ’em steal your soul. From what Eva tells us, you have a good one.” He clapped Blake on the back.
Blake’s smile faltered, no doubt realizing how different my dad’s outlook was from his own. “No, sir, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Cut the ‘sir’ crap. This ain’t England, and I’m not Paul. Although, I wish I was. Ba-da-ba.” My dad made drum motions with his hands. “Just call me Joe so I don’t twitch. My father was Mr. Ricci.”
“Will do.” Blake nodded, and my heart warmed at their easy exchange. I wondered what I’d been so nervous about and how I’d let myself go so long without seeing my family.
“Come on. You gotta meet the woman behind all the magic.” I grabbed one of Blake’s hands in both of mine and walked backward, pulling him into the kitchen.
My mom was standing in her bare feet, her blonde ponytail extending the full length of her back. All burners were on high alert, and steam climbed up to the ceiling as she stirred a pot, She looked over her shoulder.
“You made it!”
Putting the spoon in its rest, she rushed over to pull me close. “I missed you so much. I can’t believe you didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.” She pulled back from me and frowned. “You’re too skinny.”