12. Emma Takes A Peek

TWELVE

EMMA TAKES A PEEK

C arefully I move around the great room collecting empty mugs and putting them on my tray. There’s something nostalgic about being surrounded by the warm scent of cocoa and the chatter of family. Beside me, Ivy hums something under her breath that sounds vaguely like a Christmas carol and I can't help but smile.

Even Ivy can’t resist the cheer of the holidays.

“Thanks for helping with the hot chocolate.”

Ivy smiles. “It was really fun to make it again. It’s been so long.”

“Well, it’s lucky that you remembered all the ingredients. I had forgotten about the dash of chili pepper.”

I grabbed the last mug and placed it on my tray. Everyone had either moved into the game room to play pool or to the playroom with the kids. Now the room looked like a tornado had just swept through it.

Following my gaze, Ivy’s eyes widen. "I'll help you clean up. After we wash the dishes, I can straighten up in here while you check on everyone else."

“Thanks for your help. Tank suggested hiring help for the evening but…” I shook my head. Maybe it didn’t make sense to anyone else but I hated the idea of hiring help for the holidays. I just wanted it to be us. Just family.

That was the way things had always been. My mom and dad had worked together as a team to do everything. They’d always seemed like they were having so much fun at the same time, no matter what they were doing.

Ivy leans in. "I've been thinking about them a lot too, you know."

Without any explanation, I know exactly who she means.Christmas was my mother’s favorite holiday so it’s impossible not to think about her around this time every year.

“I miss them,” I whisper.

"They would be so proud of you, Emma. I just wish they could see the beautiful family you've made." Ivy looks wistful.

Something about the way she said that bothers me. As if our parents would be proud of me and not her. When they died, Ivy took on the role of my guardian. She was so young herself but she did the best she could. Sure, she made some mistakes but looking back, I realize how scared she must have been. How alone. My parents would never judge her for how she handled things. They would be grateful that she managed to keep us together.

I nudge her shoulder. “They would be proud of both of us.”

Just then as we turn the corner, I notice the hall closet door slightly ajar. My brow furrows. Even though it’s mainly full of wrapping paper there are also plenty of things laying around that we don’t want the kids to find. Namely, the huge mound of presents that Tank has been hiding from our daughter.

"Ivy, can you take these back to the kitchen for me?"

She pauses. "Sure. Is everything okay?”

I nod toward the closet. "Tank accidentally left the closet door open. I don’t want to add kids running with scissors to this party."

Leaving the tray with Ivy, I head to the closet. Tank has been careful to keep this door closed so Maxi won’t discover his stash of gifts. But as I get closer, the door suddenly opens and Gabe steps out. When he sees me, he freezes.

"A little last-minute wrapping?" I look down at the roll of wrapping paper still in his hand.

He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah. It’s a good thing we’re not doing Secret Santa, I guess.”

I take the roll, and tuck it under my arm. "Your secret is safe with me. I think Sasha is in the playroom.”

After Gabe is gone, I open the door to the closet and look around. There are several rolls of wrapping paper leaning against the wall, boxes of old ornaments and a talking Santa that I convinced Tank to put away because it creeps me out.

After leaning the extra roll of paper next to the others, I notice a wrapped box sitting on the small table in the corner. It’s wrapped in the same paper Gabe was holding. There’s no label or tag.

Gabe must have been in such a rush that he forgot to label it. I grab a marker and carefully write “Sasha” on the outside. Tank is planning to put all Maxi’s gifts under the tree once she’s asleep so he can put Sasha’s gift out then, too.

I smile thinking about tomorrow. Our first Christmas morning with everyone in one place. I can already picture the family gathered around the tree, everyone still in their pajamas as Tank hands out gifts. He has piled all the gifts we bought for Maxi in the corner so I place Gabe’s gift next to the pile. Then my eyes snag on a box wrapped in the gold paper that Tank always uses for my gifts.

Curiosity has me reaching for the box immediately. I shouldn't look. I know I shouldn’t.

But what if Tank didn’t follow the budget? Do I really want to find out he bought something extravagant in front of everyone? Even if he tried to follow the rule, Tank’s version of simple might still be over-the-top. It’s probably better if I just take a peek and make sure.

Before I know it, my fingers are working on the tape, peeling it back carefully. I'll rewrap it so well that he’ll never know I looked. Once I carefully remove the paper, I pull the lid off the box. Inside there is a single piece of paper. A gift certificate for a prenatal massage.

I blink. Surely, I'm reading this wrong.

My heart speeds up and the room sways. Oh no. When Tank wants something, he likes to leave me little hints, trying to feel out my position. He did this when he was getting ready to propose, asking me about my dream wedding and “accidentally” leaving his computer open showing a website with diamond rings. So this prenatal massage must be his way of hinting.

Tank wants another baby.

I clutch the certificate, pressing it to my racing heart. There’s no way I’m ready for another baby right now. Just the thought triggers a wave of exhaustion so strong my knees almost buckle.

Our daughter is a whirlwind of energy and keeping up with her is already a full-time job. Next year I’m supposed to finish the final classes needed to complete my degree. I can’t imagine trying to take care of an infant in the middle of all that. I’ve already put off finishing school once when I got pregnant with Maxi. If I delay things again, there’s a chance I’ll never finish.

My determination to finish my degree probably seems silly to others. After all, I’m married to a billionaire. What difference does it really make if I finish my degree? But my parents were so proud of me for going after my dreams. All they wanted was for their daughters to have the educational opportunities that they never had. I’m not ready to let go of that dream yet.

But I would probably have to let it go if I decided to have another baby.

Quickly, I place the certificate back in the box and rewrap it with hands that aren't quite steady. With every tuck of the paper, I push down my swirling thoughts and fears. I don’t have time for this. We have a house full of guests who are expecting dinner and a cheerful hostess.

But tomorrow, Tank will be watching me unwrap this gift and expecting a reaction.

I’ll have to figure out how I feel about this between now and then.