In fact, Jonah looked positively giddy tonight, picking up Whitney to help her place the ornaments on the majestic tree that looked perfect in his twenty-foot-tall great room. I loved the smell of the Christmas tree and the way the multicolored lights twinkled and reflected in the large windows. I loved watching Whitney be happy, even if she would only eat one cookie, saying that was her sugar limit for the day. Five-year-olds shouldn’t have sugar limits, especially at Christmastime.
At least she’d dressed her age tonight in a rose cable knit sweater with matching plaid leggings. She was adorable, even if she acted like she was thirty. According to her, she hadn’t made any real friends at school yet, but she had organized a math study group for the kids in her class that needed help. She was the leader, of course. And one girl told her she liked her pink beanie, so there was that. Baby steps. Thankfully, she and Tabitha were getting along famously, seeing each other every weekday.
Whitney admitted to Jonah that afterschool care was awful for her and where she felt the most alone. I mentioned it to Kara, Tabitha’s mom, and she came to the rescue, offering to pick Whitney up after school and watch her until Jonah was done at the clinic. It was the perfect setup. Kara ran her home like a school, and she didn’t believe in TV or sugar-filled snacks. It was basically like Disneyland for Whitney.
Jonah caught me smiling at him as he set Whitney down. He made his way over to me and slid into the spot next to me. He pecked my lips. The light in his eyes had returned full force.
“You’re happy,” I commented.
“This is the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time.”
“Me too.” It really was. Looking around Jonah’s beautiful home reminded me of a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie. It was honestly like a Christmas dream come true. I wanted all the cheesy things. Christmas music was playing on the surround sound while a cozy fire burned in his fireplace. People were smiling and laughing, even if some of it was fake. But it was fake in those cheesy movies too. And there I was, making Christmas ornaments, sitting next to the man I loved. I had to stop myself from thinking that something was surely bound to go wrong because moments like these weren’t meant to last. At least not for me. But maybe they could? Right?
“By the way, nice earring, doc,” Brock teased Jonah. I was surprised no one had noticed before. I didn’t say anything about the infamous earring because I knew it embarrassed Jonah and he was only keeping it for Whitney’s and my sake.
Jonah’s ears pinked while he inadvertently touched the onyx beauty in his ear. That drew the attention of everyone. Suddenly, there was a congregation of people around us gawking at poor Jonah.
“It’s totally manly,” he said, like he needed to defend his honor or something.
I reached up and played with his earring. “It’s very manly.”
Dani sat down on the other side of Jonah and got deep into his personal space to peer at it. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Jonah. This looks like the work of Ariana.”
Everyone laughed, especially those who knew Jonah and me, because Dani was right.
“Just wait until I convince him to get a tattoo.”
Whitney dropped one of the clothespin ornaments onto the hardwood floor. “No, Dad, you can’t. It is dangerous.” At least she got one contraction in there. She was using them more naturally and frequently now.
“Don’t worry, Daddy isn’t getting a tattoo.” Jonah tried to calm down a fretting Whitney.
Oh, poor naïve Jonah. He was totally getting a tattoo—tonight, unbeknownst to him. I’d brought my henna supplies with me. Seriously, that earring was a turn on, and I totally dug tattoos. And I felt if Jonah saw how good a henna one looked on him, I might be able to convince him to get the real deal. Of course, he would have to get it where Whitney would never see it, lest she have a heart attack or spend a night googling how to safely remove tattoos.
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Kinsley said under her breath so the munchkin in the room didn’t hear her. She knew me too well.
Jonah stood, obviously uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Let’s make a toast.” He walked to the kitchen and began pouring the adult wassail in mugs for everyone but Whitney, who got water because, you know, wassail had a lot of sugar . . . and Kinsley’s version had rum. I stood and helped Jonah in his quest to not talk about tattoos or the jewelry he was sporting.
Once every person had a drink in their hand, we gathered around the tree. Whitney stood in front of me. I had one arm around her while holding my drink in my free hand. I loved the way the twinkle lights reflected on everyone, except for maybe Alexandra, whose sequined shirt was giving me a headache, as was the way she had an iron grip on Brock. Stupid, stupid Brock, who was causing Dani to cling tightly to the moron she’d brought who, yup, was trying to look at his reflection in the shiny red mug I’d handed him. What a tool. I would tell Dani that later. But I was pretty sure she knew.