The huge oak tree at the edge of our property was decked out in about a bazillion white lights. Huge red Christmas balls and illuminated white stars swung merrily in the breeze off the water. Callum had spent one of the nice Sundays in November monkeying all over that tree to get it done. All because he found a photo in my family look book.
Well, it was sort of ours now.
Photos for inspiration that I’d found in magazines and printed out from online made up the book, just like with my hair-focused one. I knew Pinterest would be easier, but it had seemed to be the perfect joint planning thing for us as we’d gotten to know each other over the last year. He sneaked in sketches, and I went for glossy photos.
His brothers—who were just as insane as he’d warned me—had come to help decorate while his mom and I stayed on a quilt with the babies.
Yeah, babies. Plural.
Wouldn’t have pegged me spending my pregnancy bonding with my mother-in-law-to-be through thick ankles, stretch marks, and late night cravings, but I had. Cal had gotten the news that his mother was pregnant a day after we’d taken our test. We’d gone to tell his folks, and they’d had a special update of their own.
Cal and his dad had worn matching stunned expressions for a few weeks.
His mom had given birth to Cal early in life, and while she wasn’t the oldest mother in the medical journals, she’d astounded our obstetrician with how easily she’d made it through the pregnancy. I guessed after triplets, anything was easy. And because I didn’t have a doctor of my own, we’d just ended up doing our entire pregnancies together, right down to the office visits.
But my fiancé had a master’s degree in adapting. He happened to have one in Mythology as well. If he ever finished his thesis for his PhD, he’d be a full-fledged doctor too.
But our new little family kept him busy.
Our deep and abiding love for this crazy Victorian house on the lake took up even more time. Cal had made it his mission in life to make all my dreams come true. It was a bit more of a fixer upper than we’d been expecting. There had been a reason the sellers had taken his offer with no questions asked. We’d been renovating it during the majority of my pregnancy, but we were taking a break to enjoy our new little girl’s first year.
That and our daughter had inherited my allergy to plaster dust.
It was just too much misery for one man to take.
The farther I got up the drive, the more I was able to let the stress of the day fade. The salon had been madness. We’d hired two more stylists and a barber. With the unending beard love, men were looking to up their salon game, and we were happy to move with the times.
Going back to work had been hard, but knowing our daughter was in good hands—mostly her dad’s—had made it a little easier to go back part-time. Cal was done with school for the holidays and had decided to bring his class load down to two classes in the new semester.
Painting was taking up more and more of his time. And he liked being home with our baby. She was such a daddy’s girl, she’d probably have a paintbrush in her hands before a crayon. I was okay with it, especially because Cal was just as wrapped around her little finger as I was.
We were spending Christmas Day at the MacGregor farm so we were keeping Christmas Eve for ourselves. I still had a million things to do. I’d been perfecting my lasagna game on Cal’s brothers for the last two weeks. I was pretty sure the last batch in my passenger seat was going to knock my fiancé’s socks off.
It wasn’t that I was a bad cook, I was just very regimented. It wasn’t fun for me. I could create any color in the rainbow on a head of hair, but ask me to be creative with ingredients and I froze. Luc
kily, Callum was a decent cook and even better at ordering take-out.
But it was our first official Christmas together, and I really wanted it to be special. And naked was definitely on the menu for dessert. Especially since our little insomniac had finally learned how to sleep through the night.
Mostly.
I pulled in the circular drive to my spot. A garage was in the future plans, but for now, we still parked outside. Cal’s Supra was tarped and tucked under our carport waiting for spring. He’d wanted to sell it when I’d told him we were pregnant, but I secretly loved that stupid penis mobile.
Surprisingly, his SUV wasn’t here. He must have taken the baby out to do some last-minute shopping.
I grabbed the insulated bag that held my precious lasagna and headed for the front steps. I still couldn’t believe this was our place. I’d managed to get those traditional bulbs for the roofline in the sale of the house. I mean, really, what was the previous owner going to do with them? It was like they were made for the house.
Each bulb was tucked perfectly into the gingerbread lace along the gables and roofline, as well as the trim and corbels. I’d done a staggering amount of research to make sure any outside renovations kept up with the age of the house. Callum had gotten into the deep dive of research—way past me. The professor in him geeked out and found levels of history to our house I didn’t even know how to find.
Then he’d done a painting of the house with me on the porch wearing his white dress shirt for my birthday. He could be very sweet at times. I had a feeling he was working on something else for Christmas. He hadn’t let me in his studio for the last few weeks.
Just as I got to the steps, twin beams of light came up the drive. Cal’s Mazda SUV slowed around our circular drive. He waved at me then parked.
I set the lasagna down on the steps and went to meet him.
He hopped out and I got a little zing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to how sexy my guy was. He had a gray tweed jacket on over a soft black cashmere sweater and jeans. To accent his professor chic, he was wearing his pageboy hat. It shouldn’t have worked, but I had one hot teacher-slash-artist for a lover. And soon-to-be husband.
“Hey there. I was hoping I’d beat you home.” He drew me in for a quick kiss.