Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

EMMA

H udson sets the last plastic bin full of decorations on the floor in the living room. The bin's sound thuds against the hardwood, echoing through the house and reflecting off the tall ceilings.

“How many trees are we putting up?” I ask again, making sure I wasn't imagining it when he told me an hour ago.

“Well, five. No, six if you count the mini ones in the bathrooms. Make it seven,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And if you keep making that face, we'll do ten.”

“Don't you use your daddy voice on me,” I retort, arching a brow in playful defiance.

He tries to hold back that sexy smirk, but it slips through and makes my heart flutter. Christmas music plays overhead, filling the air with a cheerful melody as Hudson unboxes the tree.

“Bee,” I call, capturing him in my arms as he dashes past me. I pull him back in front of me, and his giggles echo through the large space. The fireplace cracks and pops behind me as I sit on the floor, unraveling a tangled mess of lights. “Did you hear what your dad said?”

Hudson watches us, his smile softening as he takes in our playful moment.

“I was gonna,” he says, ripping away from me and moving to the cardboard box with his name written across the side in bold letters. “This one?”

“Whose name's on it?” Hudson asks, and Colby tilts his head, being silly, as if trying to decipher a riddle. “C-o-l-b-y!”

“Great, take it upstairs to your room, please.”

“But Dad ,” he whines, his voice tinged with a dramatic flair only a kid can muster. “It's heavy .”

“It has a handle. You lifted it last year with no problems. You're much stronger now. Don't make me ask again.”

He shrugs, momentarily defeated, and returns to running around with the silver tinsel in his hand. It flutters behind him like a kite dancing against the wind, trailing a sparkly shimmer as he zooms through the room.

“Is it hypocritical that you own a tree farm but use plastic ones in your house?” I ask with a teasing tone.

“Colby's allergic,” he explains. “When conifers are in a confined space, it gets pretty bad. I hope he grows out of it one day because it might be a hard life working on a farm full of trees.”

I snicker. “I'm sure he will. So, have you decided if you're joining my cookie team yet?”

“No,” he says, his answer firm yet playful.

“Okay then. Mawmaw said she'd join me if you weren't going to.”

His eyes are full of disbelief. “Don't joke with me. I'll call and ask her.”

“Go ahead,” I challenge, hoping he doesn't follow through. But if I've learned anything from these Jolly boys, they will call my bluff every single time.

As if he reads my mind, Hudson does exactly that. He puts it on speakerphone with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Hey, Cookie. Calling to tell me you're proposing to Emma?” she asks.

Hudson smirks. “Not yet.”

The words hang in the air like a disco ball in the middle of the room, shimmering with potential.

Not yet.

That would be a Christmas wish come true.

“Emma just told me you're joining her cookie-baking team.”

There's a pause, and then the playful banter resumes. “Of course I am. She's a winner.”

I smile wide, appreciating Mawmaw's unwavering support. She is a girl's girl, always ready to rally behind anyone who can make her grandsons happy. Or at least that's what my sister has told me.

Hudson scoffs, laughter bubbling up. “You're coming out of retirement for her?”

“Aren't you?” she throws back, and her implication is clear; they both know it’s not just about cookies.

I fall back, pointing and laughing at him, unable to contain my delight.

“Keep it up,” he says to me, shaking his head before returning his attention back to her. “Okay, well, love you, Mawmaw.”

“Love you, Cookie.”

He ends the call, and the room feels a bit warmer, or maybe my body is on fire. Hudson does that to me.

“She would come out of retirement for you if you actually asked her,” he tells me, his gaze teasing yet sincere.

“Did you?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “Dating retirement.”

That charming grin illuminates his face. “What do you think?”

Just then, Colby rushes over to me, dangling strands of tinsel on my face. “Tickle monster is going to get you,” he announces.

“Not the tickle monster! Rawr!” I growl, reaching forward to tickle his belly.

“Emma!” His laughter is contagious as he swats me away.

“Colby,” Hudson says, more sternly. “The tree. Unbox it and set the branches on the floor, and I'll be right up, okay?”

He huffs and then grabs the box handle, his tiny muscles flexing as he effortlessly lifts it. Still, he gives a dramatic strain, swaggering up the stairs with an exaggerated grunt. The floorboards creak beneath his feet, each step echoing the weight of his playful performance. Once he's out of sight and I hear his door latch shut with a soft click, I stand and move toward Hudson, who's on his knees, carefully arranging the branches on the tree.

I look down at him, my fingers gently running through his tousled hair. His focus is intense, and his brows furrow in concentration. Suddenly, he turns to me and lifts my shirt, his plump lips brushing against my stomach. “Mm. Your skin tastes so good,” he murmurs, sending a shiver of delight through me.

“Will you bake your gingerbread cookies for me?” I ask.

A half-grin spreads across his face, and desire dances in his eyes.

“The recipe is top-secret. I can't share it until I slide a ring on your finger,” he replies, his tone teasing but underlined with sincerity.

“Until?” My heart won't stop fluttering each time I meet his eyes.

“Did I stutter?”

“No, you did not,” I say, wanting to linger on that thought a little longer. I clear my throat. “If we work together, I guarantee we'll win without having to stupidly get the judges drunk before the event,” I say enthusiastically.

He bursts into laughter, the sound rich and infectious. “Mrs. Baxter tried that,” he retorts, shaking his head, the memory amusing to him.

My tone shifts slightly as I lean closer. “Give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

The words float in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications, more profound than I'd intended. The moment's charged with possibilities and the weight of what lies ahead.

“Guaranteed?” he questions. “How?”

“After you taste it, you'll know the answer.”

Feet running across the floor has me pulling away and creating space.

“The tree is up!” Colby says from the banister. “I did it all by myself. Come see.”

After wrapping the final tree with lights, we carefully add the ornaments, each one carrying a story of its own. Some are handmade, crafted with love and care, while others gleam with the sheen of store-bought perfection. It's a delightful hodgepodge of decorations, each unique piece contributing to the charm of our tree. I love it so much.

“Last but not least,” Hudson announces, opening a golden box that catches the sparkling light.

Colby rushes to it.

“The angel!” he exclaims, his face lighting up with pure amazement.

With great tenderness, he retrieves the ornament, cradling it like fragile China.

“Ready?” Hudson asks.

Colby nods eagerly, and Hudson lifts him toward the top of the tree, raising him high so he can carefully set the delicate doll on top. Colby’s eyes are level with the topper.

“This thing looks like Emma.” Colby points at it. “You're a Christmas angel.”

I glance up at the angel and see the likeness—same color hair, bright eyes, rosy-red cheeks, and lips painted a vivid red. She smiles sweetly, a smirk playing on her face as if she’s guarding the secrets of the holiday season.

“How?” I ask, glancing at Hudson with surprise in my voice.

“Hm. That is weird,” he replies with a shrug. “I picked it out during Colby's first Christmas and thought she was the prettiest of them all.”

I continue to stare up at it, pondering its significance, and suddenly, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I am Hudson’s type after all.

“Time to light it,” Hudson says. He bends down next to the tree, glancing at us. Me and Colby take a step back and then he plugs it in, joining us. Collective gasps of awe escape our lips as we admire the tree's full glory, glittering and sparkling like a beacon of holiday cheer.

“It’s the best tree ever! Now fill it with presents underneath!” Bee declares, his voice brimming with excitement.

Hudson wraps his arm around me, and I can’t help but smile at the joy and love that fills the room. For the first time since my mom passed away, it feels like Christmas.

Emotions bubble and I think I might cry.

“You okay?” Hudson quietly asks.

“Yeah,” I tell him, smiling. “It's just the magic of Merryville.”

After dinner, bath time, and tucking Colby into bed, Hudson and I settle onto the couch downstairs with tall glasses of wine. Each glass holds half a bottle. The flames dance in the fireplace, and the glow of the Christmas tree lights cast a warm, inviting radiance throughout the room. It wraps us in a cozy ambiance that only appears during this time of year. The scent of pine candle mingles with the faint aroma of woodsmoke, enhancing the atmosphere as we sip our merlot, the rich, velvety liquid warming us from the inside out.

We sit in silence, captivated by the flickering fire, both of us too exhausted to muster the energy for anything more. An ache settles into my lower back, a reminder of how much we did today, and I feel every bit of thirty—the joy of having a kid around is etched into my bones. I wouldn't trade that kid for anything, though, and I find myself growing more attached.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Hudson asks, our heads resting on the same cushion. He turns toward me, and our mouths are so close we could kiss. The smell of his soap mingles with the warm air around us.

“A mom,” I admit. The fantasy washes over me like a comforting tide. “I used to say I wanted seven kids.”

Hudson's eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Seven?”

“And if you keep making that face, we'll make it ten,” I tease, echoing his earlier words with a playful smirk.

“Jokes on you, Emma,” he whispers, his eyes almost darkening. “I'm into it.”

A sly smirk dances across my lips as I glance down, noticing the bulge in his gray joggers. “Mm. Thinking about putting a baby in me, turns you on.”

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire.

“You wanted a big family,” I say, connecting the dots and realizing that’s why his house is as large as it is. He dreamed of filling the spaces with laughter and love.

“Yes. At this point, I'd settle for what I have, though.” He takes a deliberate sip of his wine. “Having kids is a big responsibility, and it’s been rewarding. It made me view life differently, but I wouldn't jump into that again without knowing.”

“Knowing what?” I urge as curiosity takes over as the fire crackles.

“Until I knew you weren't going anywhere,” he states matter-of-factly, a seriousness sliding into his gaze. “You could still change your mind on us, Emma. You could wake up one day and realize this life, this house, this town isn't what you want.”

I lean forward and kiss him, tasting the dry wine lingering on his lips. “Don't ever doubt the way I feel about you, Hudson. Okay? I'm not her .”

“I know,” he whispers. “I just don't want to be a fool in love again. I’m waiting for the bottom to fall out, for you to tell me you made a big mistake. Emma, you can have anyone in the world.”

A small smile meets my lips, warm and genuine. “You're not anyone .”

He breathes in deeply.

“There's something I need to tell you,” he says, the seriousness settling back into his tone.

I meet his eyes, my heart races with anticipation. “Okay.”

His hand rests gently on my cheek; the flicker of the fire creates a cozy ambiance.

“Emma,” a tiny voice calls out from the top of the stairs, breaking the quiet moment we shared.

“Bee? You okay?” Hudson asks.

I turn my full attention back to Hudson, my heart quickening.

“Emma, will you come tell me another story?”

I glance at Hudson, wondering what he was going to say, a mix of regret and urgency bubbling up inside me. “I'm sorry. We'll finish this conversation, okay?”

He nods, his expression softening. “Bee, you sure you don't want me to come tuck you in?”

“I want Emma,” he says, his tiny voice cracking.

“I've got it,” I reply, forcing a grin as I rise from the cushion.

I take the stairs two at a time, meeting Colby at the top. We slip into his room, where the familiar sight of his plush toys and scattered books brings back sweet memories of earlier. His tree is lit in the corner and full of ornaments he's made.

He slides under his covers, and I gently bring them to his chest, tucking him in snugly. “Now you’re like a burrito.”

He grins back at me, a glimmer of joy splashing across his sleepy face. “I like burritos.”

Exhaustion is etched into his features, his eyelids growing heavier. “Me too. With all the good stuff inside like chicken, rice, beans, and cheese.”

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can't you be my mom?”

My heart rattles in my chest at that innocent question. I keep a gentle demeanor for him as if my heart isn’t breaking into a million pieces. “Because I’m your friend, Bee. That’s like asking Davidson and Evie to be your mom.”

My answer isn't good enough, and I think he might start crying. I move closer to him, leaning my head on his chest as his big, green eyes meet mine, glistening with unshed tears. “If you start that, I'll bring the tickle monster out,” I warn.

He kicks his legs under the cozy blanket, but a smile breaks through his frustration with me. “Please no.”

“Only because you said please!” I wiggle my fingers playfully at him, teasing him with the idea of the tickle monster lurking, but I know better than to get him worked up before bed. With a little coaxing, I can have him asleep in ten minutes.

All the Jollys might have those enchanting green eyes, but they’re also the first thing to give away their emotions.

“I just want you to be my mom though. I even told Santa that's what I want.”

I playfully gasp, the surprise almost exaggerated. “You can't ask Santa for that .”

His innocence is unyielding, leading him to press further. “Where’s your mom?”

Emotions start to bubble inside me, a mixture of both sadness and happiness, but it's been a rough day. I take a breath, steadying myself, and reply sweetly, “My mom isn't here anymore.”

“Where is she?”

I force a smile, even though it feels strained and heavy on my lips. “My mom is in heaven.”

Colby gasps, his eyes widening as if a lightbulb has just gone off in his mind. “She's an angel? Like on top of the tree?”

A choked laugh escapes me. “Yep, like that. Now listen, I want you to know that it's okay not to have a mom. I don't have one anymore. Neither does Aunt CeCe. You're a very, very lucky little boy who has a dad who loves you sooooo much. Plus, all your uncles care so dearly about you.”

He giggles, the sound brightening the dim room.

“And your grandparents are a hoot and adore you. What other little boy in this world has Santa as a grandpa? Like, that's the absolute coolest ! And then there's your great-grandma—lord have mercy! You won the lottery, kid.” I gently pat his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him. “Not having a mom doesn't make you any different. Okay?”

He props his head up on his elbow, tilting it at me with a curious expression, his eyes filled with admiration. “You're an angel too, Emma! Just like your mom.”

I nod, a faint blush creeping up my cheeks. “Thanks, Bee.”

“Will you tell me a story?” he asks, already finished with this conversation. But I have a feeling he won't forget this.

“Sure. Um. A long time ago, there was a girl who was scared of the dark. She traveled worldwide, searching for light to make her heart happy. She looked high and low, exploring far-off places and in hidden corners of her imagination, dreaming about feeling sunshine on her skin. One day, she thought she found it. Her heart glowed so bright for years until she realized it was only temporary.”

“The batteries ran out?” he asks, his brows knitting together in contemplation.

I almost whisper, slowing down my words as if weaving a spell. “Yeah. So, for two more years, she continued to search the world. Then she decided to escape her busy life and got on a plane and flew straight to the heart of Texas to visit her sister, who'd captured the light first. The only problem is her sister couldn't share it with her because that's not how it works. But the girl had to see it with her own eyes to make sure the light really existed.”

Colby's eyes grow heavy, weighted by sleep, as if my words hypnotize him. “Did it exist?”

“It did. The girl saw how beautiful the light was and how it shone so bright that there was no way in the entire world it would ever dim for her sister. It was all the proof she needed to know it was real. She felt overwhelming joy for her sibling, yet jealousy ate at her heart because it was everything she wanted. But just before the girl turned to leave for her castle in the city, she found the love of her life.”

Before I'm finished, he's fast asleep, and I stare at his cute little Christmas tree with dinosaur ornaments and lights, waiting to make sure he stays asleep this time.

“Good night,” I whisper, careful not to wake him as I sneak out of his room.

When I gently close the door until it clicks, Hudson stands in the dimly lit hallway, his silhouette comforting in the shadows.

Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. I breathe him in, allowing the warmth of his body to capture me.

As I exhale, I release the emotional weight I’ve been carrying.

Today has been particularly hard, and my mother’s absence weighs heavily on my mind. Christmas has always been challenging for me, but until now, I managed to keep those feelings at bay.

Hudson pets my hair as I cry, and his gentle touch is a comfort I didn’t realize I needed. When I’ve finally poured out my heart, he pulls away slightly, his fingers tracing my cheek tenderly. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you.” The words slip from my mouth like a whispered prayer. It's three words I didn't think I'd ever string together again. They carry the weight of my deepest feelings, and I've never meant them more than I do right now.