When we settled into the couch again, I gave Beau his presents. The first one was a scrapbook I’d been making.
It started out with a bunch of pictures of us. Quite a few pages, actually. Then I added in pictures of us with the boys. “I know there’s not that many pages yet, but—”
“There will be,” he said, then kissed me sweetly. “I love it, thank you.”
I handed him an envelope, my stomach twisting in knots as I did.
After he opened it and pulled out the printed sheets, he shook his head and said, “No, I said we’d stay here,” and handed it back to me.
“But, Beau, surprising your parents would be the best Christmas present ever. Mom said I can always come back again in January to spend more time with them.”
“You mean on the couch reading naughty books?” he said, giving me his signature, Beau Moreau smile.
I shrugged and kissed his cheek. “Whatever.”
“Are you sure? I made you skip Thanksgiving,” he said to me, his eyes scouring my face.
“I think we had a wonderful Thanksgiving.”
He let out a small laugh. “Yeah, we did.”
“Then it is settled,” Mom shouted and clapped her hands together. “Let’s finish with the gifts and then I need to check the turkey.”
Mom handed me a heavy package to open, and I dug right in. “Oh, the entire box set of the Everything She Desires series? Oh my gosh, thank you!” I yelled, so excited to have my own set.
“Signed and everything,” my mother said, jumping up to show me where the author had indeed signed each and every one of them.
“More reverse harem books?” Beau asked, peering over my shoulder at my new lovelies.
“Don’t fight it, man,” Jase advised, and we all laughed. “These chicks like their books. Happy wife, happy life.”
Mom turned her head toward Jase and said, “Good answer, mon amour.”
Beau
“Okay, is everyone ready?”Geneviève asked for the tenth time. “Carson, leave your hat on until grand-mère sees it,” she said,fixing his hat again. “Now do you remember what to say?”
“Joyeux Noël!” both boys yelled in tandem. They said it perfectly, without hesitation.
Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that Geneviève had been coaching them for twenty-four hours straight. Or at least that was what it felt like.
Not that they minded. Those kids were two, eager sponges, ready and willing to learn whatever she said.
They knocked on the door and seconds later, it swung open. My mother stood there, wide eyed and speechless for the first time in her life. “Beauregard?” she said, staring at me as though I might be a mirage. Her eyes shot directly to Geneviève and the boys. “Geneviève? And mes petites-fils?”
“Okay, now,” Geneviève whispered as she nudged the boys forward.
“Joyeux Noël!” Carson said, loudly and with a perfect accent.
“Bonne fête!” Cooper yelled even louder.
Geneviève groaned and whispered, “I’m going to kill Jase.”
I chuckled and said, “Joyeux Noël, maman,” I said, stepping around the boys to hug my mother. She started to cry the second my arms were around her.
“What a surprise, what a surprise!” she sobbed, and I could hear Geneviève crying behind me.
“It was Geneviève and Noémie’s idea. Thank them.”