For these few hours, we're just a family in a bubble. No complicated past, no uncertain future, no worry that Blake might pop in. Just the three of us, warm and safe together.
By eight, Beckett's eyes grow heavy. I carry him to the smaller bedroom, tucking the blankets around him while Janie brushes her teeth in the bathroom.
"Night, buddy," I whisper, allowing myself to brush the hair from his forehead.
"Night, Warren." His eyes flutter closed. "Best day ever."
I linger, memorizing the sight of him, my son, peaceful and trusting. Tomorrow we'll go back to reality, but tonight, this moment, I'm storing away forever.
I close Beckett's door with a soft click and stand in the hallway a moment, replaying the words.
When I return to the living room, Janie sits on the sofa, firelight dancing across her face. She's turned out the lamps, leaving only the Christmas lights and flames casting a golden glow.
"He's out," I whisper, lowering myself beside her.
"He crashed hard. So much excitement." Her smile is soft, unguarded. "This place is magical, Warren. This was a great idea."
I stretch my legs toward the fire. "I remember coming here with my grandfather. Just once, when I was eight. My parents were in Europe, and he owned a lot of land around here, so he knew about it."
"Just once?"
"Carter family Christmases weren't exactly warm and fuzzy. More like strategic appearances at charity galas."
She pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "As you know, my family didn't have much growing up, but Mom always made it special. Homemade ornaments, cookies from scratch. Blake would string popcorn while Dad read 'The Night Before Christmas.'"
"I remember. The year I lived with you guys..." I swallow hard. "That was the first real Christmas I ever had. I loved it."
Janie's fingers find mine in the space between us. "You're part of those memories too, you know. Making that awful eggnog nobody would drink."
"Hey, I followed the recipe."
"You put in triple the rum!"
"Blake dared me!"
Her laughter fills the room, genuine and warm. When it fades, a different kind of silence settles. It's not awkward, but full of something unspoken that neither of us dares to summon.
"Warren," she whispers, her face half-shadows, half-light. "Thank you for today."
I reach up, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was amazing. Thank you."
The first kiss is hesitant, a question. The second answers with certainty.
I pull her closer until she’s straddling my lap, her body warm and insistent against mine. My hands slide under her sweater, palms memorizing soft skin as her kiss deepens, hungrier now.
We stumble to the second bedroom, closing the door quietly behind us. Nothing frantic this time. No rushed desperation. I undress her slowly, savoring the hitch of her breath when my mouth trails along her collarbone.
“Ow!” I jerk back when something sharp digs into my foot.
Janie covers her mouth, laughter spilling out. “Oh, my God.” She retrieves a small glass ornament from the floor. “Casualties of Christmas decorating.”
“Thank God that wasn’t in the bed. Could’ve been a casualty of something else.”
Her smile lingers for a beat, then fades into something hungrier. She backs up until her legs hit the mattress and crooks her finger. “Come here.”
I do. My mouth claims hers, deeper this time, herlaugh dissolving into a whimper. She tugs at my shirt, sliding her hands up my chest as I strip it off. Her sweater goes next, then her bra.
I take a second to stare. Christmas lights from outside around the house flicker against bare skin.