CHAPTER TWELVE

Abby

When the time for the gift exchange arrives, my stomach is in knots—double knots if I’m being honest with myself. Everyone crowds into the living room, and John makes space for me to sit next to him. His family is so welcoming I shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable not having anything to give.

The room screams holiday cheer, from the wood crackling in the stone fireplace to the white lights twinkling on the Christmas tree, but now that the presents are the focus, it seems to be even louder. Whatever is baking for dessert only adds to the festive air. I wish every Christmas could be like this, because no holiday will ever live up to today.

Then again, I also know how John must’ve felt this morning during my family’s gift exchange—empty-handed and awkward. I told him not to worry about it, and I need to take my own advice. There’s no need to feel like a Christmas party crasher vying for the “most likely to freeload” award, right?

I glance at the beautifully wrapped gifts. I’m surprised there aren’t more, given how big and wealthy John’s family appears to be. At least there won’t be one for me, so I won’t feel quite so bad, showing up empty handed.

John wraps his arm around me. “Now you know how I felt this morning when your family opened gifts.”

“Yes. I wish I had something to give your family.”

“Nonsense, dear.” Maggie leans toward me with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “You’re family now. Besides, Johnny never brings anyone home. You being here is the best present we could ask for.”

Warmth flows through my chest. Family . It’s such a simple word, but my eyes sting with unexpected emotion. I glance at John, who is speaking with his grandfather. As if sensing my gaze, he looks up, catching my eye. His lips curve into a soft smile, and my heart does an acrobatics routine.

I look away, my cheeks burning as hot as the flames in the fireplace. I focus on the tree, but my curiosity wins out. I sneak a peek at John, who raises an eyebrow and then winks. He’s trying to make me laugh, so I press my lips together to keep a straight face, but a smile appears anyway.

The gift exchange is like everything John’s family does—wonderfully chaotic. Wrapping paper flies, bows and ribbons go on tops of heads, and exclamations of delight echo off the walls. The volume keeps rising, laughter overtaking the chatter.

Lizzy squeals with delight over a set of oil paints. She holds them up for all to see. “Oh my, this is perfect. Thank you so much, Uncle Ross.”

Uncle Ross beams, appearing pleased with his choice. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see what you create with them.” His voice is full of pride, and he makes me think of my grandfather, who, like Ross, cared enough to know what made me happy.

John’s grandfather unwraps a colorful, hand-knitted scarf from his great-granddaughter. His eyes mist as he wraps it around his neck. “It’s beautiful, Emily. Did you make this yourself?”

Emily nods shyly.

Her great-grandfather hugs her. “I’ll treasure it always.”

The appreciation nearly overwhelms me. I’m witnessing something so pure I feel like an outsider. But it’s wonderful—seeing gifts that aren’t about price tags, but about love and thoughtfulness.

Even the smallest gifts are met with excitement. John’s younger cousin Trey whoops with happiness over a pack of colorful socks, each adorned with a different superhero. “These are so cool. Thanks, Aunt Theo.”

His family is so different from mine. Our gift exchanges are always about what’s most expensive or trendy. Not here, and I love it. John has been blessed with a special family, and I must admit I wish they were my family, too.

Maggie hands me a small, beautifully wrapped package.

A pang of guilt rises up. “But I didn’t bring anyone a gift—”

She pats my hand. “As I said before, you are family now.”

Family .

The word lingers in the air as if something tangible I can touch. I untie the ribbon, rip the wrapping paper off, and hold a small white box. I lift the lid to reveal a delicate silver locket. Vintage—most likely an antique, polished smooth by years of care. Carefully, I open it, and inside I find a tiny four-leaf clover, perfectly pressed and preserved.

“It’s been in the family for generations,” Maggie says, her voice as gentle as her eyes. “We pass it down to bring luck and love to the next generation.”

A lump forms in my throat, and it burns. Not that I could speak right now, even if I wanted to. This gift isn’t just a locket—it feels like an invitation, a way of saying I belong. “I… Thank you.”

John leans over, his eyes widening as he catches sight of the locket. “Wow, Grandma. Are you sure?”

Maggie nods, her voice unwavering. “Positive.”

“I’ll put it on you.” John’s fingers brush against mine as he takes the necklace and fastens it around my neck with warm, steady hands. Something flutters in my chest. For the first time since Grandpa passed, I don’t feel like it’s just me and Powerfluff. I’m no longer alone.

The gift-giving continues around us, each present met with genuine gratitude and laughter. John’s aunt Tess opens a set of gourmet spices. “Oh, I know exactly what to do with these.” His great-uncle Rusty dons a new fishing hat and strikes an exaggerated pose. Everyone laughs, and that only makes him pretend to cast with an imaginary rod.

I stare in disbelief. There’s no rivalry over gifts—just love. Every gift, no matter how small, is treated like the greatest treasure. I realize this isn’t about the gifts, but about the connection of being together and celebrating one another.

My chest aches. I’m witnessing what a true family gathering should be—full of warmth, laughter, and acceptance. This is what I want, not only today but…forever.

After the gift opening, I grab a mug of hot chocolate and sit on the back porch swing, staring at the star-filled night sky. The air is cool, and my breath forms clouds like it did in my freezing apartment, but my drink keeps me warm.

“I wondered where you’d gone,” John says, stepping outside onto the porch.

I scoot over to make room for him on the porch swing. “Just…thinking. Your family is amazing.”

He settles beside me, his arm draping casually across the back of the swing. “They can be a bit much sometimes, but I love them. They are so happy you’re getting along with them.”

“Getting along with them?” I shake my head and then laugh. “I feel like I’ve been adopted. I still can’t believe your grandmother gave me a family heirloom!”

A shadow flickers across John’s face, and he shifts slightly. “About that. I had no idea she was going to do that. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll talk to her—”

“No, John. The locket is perfect. I love it.”

Our eyes lock. Something in his gaze, something raw and unguarded, quickens my pulse. His eyes drop to my lips, and I lean against him. Attraction buzzes in the space between us.

I want to kiss him.

As I tilt my head, the back door opens. Maggie steps out. “There you are. Come in. It’s time for the carol sing-along!”

So much for a kiss. Maybe later.

John stands and offers me his hand. His smile is apologetic. “Shall we?”

I take his hand, and he easily pulls me to my feet. “Let’s go spread some Christmas cheer.”

Back inside, the family gathers around the piano with songbooks in hand. George sits at the keys, his fingers poised to begin as he gives everyone a nod. The room is awash with golden light from the fireplace and candles now lit, and I feel the energy shift—like everyone is connected by the holiday spirit. As we join the group, Maggie hands us each a songbook, her eyes twinkling as she gives me a knowing smile.

“All right, everyone…” George’s voice is full of excitement. “Let’s start with a classic. ‘Jingle Bells’ on three!”

The room erupts into song, laughter mixing with the jangling melody. Not all the voices are in tune, but no one cares. John steps behind me and pulls me toward him, my back against his chest, enveloping me in warmth. Joy seeps into my bones. It’s cozy and comfortable. I want to date him for real and have his family adopt me.

After a few songs, I sing louder. It’s hard not to be caught up in the way John’s entire family sings with abandon. Everything about them, from their laughter to their holiday spirit, is contagious. I can’t stop smiling, even though my cheeks hurt.

As the final notes fade, John lets go and stands next to me. He watches me, his eyes soft and unguarded. Something in his gaze makes me tingle.

Maggie claps her hands. “It’s time for another Christmas tradition.”

Another one? I glance around, and everyone is looking at John and me. Maggie points above our head,heads where a sprig of mistletoe dangles from the ceiling.

I wanted a kiss but not in front of everyone. “We don’t have to—”

“It is tradition.” A smile plays on his lips.

Time seems to slow as he steps closer, and everything else around us fades away. The laughter, the chatter, even the music become a distant hum. John cups my face, and my breath catches. His warm touch quickens my pulse. His family is watching, but this is for just us.

He leans in, his eyes searching mine before our lips meet. The kiss is soft, tentative, as if he’s giving me the chance to pull away. But I don’t want to. I cut the distance between us, my eyes fluttering shut as I feel his warmth, his confidence growing as the kiss deepens. I touch his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my hand.

He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. “I’ve been wanting to do that again for a while,” he whispers, his voice just for me.

“Same.”

John’s lips curve into a smile against mine. “I know. You wanted to kiss me out on the back porch.”

My mouth drops open. I pull back slightly. “Was I that obvious?”

He brushes his thumb across my jawline. “To me? Yeah. But I’m glad you were.”

His lips find mine once more. This kiss is slower, more certain, as if we’re both finally giving in to our growing feelings. I melt into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. This feels so right—like coming home.

When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless. John’s eyes are dark, his pupils dilated, and his heart beats rapidly under my palm. We stare at each other.

John’s family erupts in cheers and whistles, jolting me back to reality. The noise crashes over me, and heat floods my cheeks. I bury my face into John’s chest, caught between mortification and elation. His laughter rumbles through his chest, vibrating under my cheek, and his arm tightens around me protectively.

“Now that’s a Christmas kiss.” George slaps John on the back. Someone else whistles, and Maggie’s teasing voice chimes in about young love.

An idea hits me like a wave—maybe I’ve misjudged John all this time. Maybe he wasn’t hard on me because he disliked me—maybe he cared. Maybe those critiques were meant to push me because he believed in me. Warmth surges through me as I remember the moments leading to this one, building toward something I wasn’t able to see because of how my family treats me.

As the family heads off in different directions, John keeps his arm around me, his hand resting comfortably on my shoulder. He leans down, his breath warm against my ear. “You okay?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. The kiss has shaken me, but in the best way.

I glance up at John, his eyes soft as he looks at me, and I realize, in his arms, surrounded by his noisy, loving family, I’m not pretending anymore. But that terrifies me because feelings can get messy, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.