Chapter 18

Bunny

I can’t hold in the heavy sigh that’s desperate to escape. “This is the saddest Christmas tree I’ve ever had to decorate and that includes the plastic palm tree that one of my neighbors left me last year.”

Kipp cringes at the four-foot fake tree that’s noticeably leaning to one side. “I don’t remember it being this crooked last year.”

“That’s because we didn’t put it up,” Nolan announces, arms folding across his work shirt.

“Why not?” There’s no stopping my attention from cutting to his. “Is it because you didn’t wanna display a limp dick Christmas tree?”

“It’s not limp. ”

“Should I blow Kid in front of it to see if it’ll get hard?”

“You are always welcome to mouth bang me, baby.”

“I won’t pass on the season’s skeeting or whatever, Rabbit,” the corner of his lips kicks upward, “but our tree is not limp.”

“Well, it’s not straight!”

“Why are you identification shaming our tree?” Kid playfully pokes, pulling my glare back to him.

“We don’t do that shit in this house.”

“ Santa is watching,” our other boyfriend mockingly reminds.

“You’re both about to be on his naughty list yet my shit list.”

Hearing the two of them erupt into laughter threatens to have me joining in against my own volition.

It’s…getting a tax extension on your extension’s extension next level of difficult to not indulge in the activity with them.

I love it too much.

I love watching them laugh almost as much as hearing it.

It’s this irresistible sight that I have no doubt whatsoever they’re going to give to our little one.

How I’m gonna get anything fucking done once our kiddo is born is becoming more and more of a new contradicting guidelines mystery to me.

“Should we just go get a new one?” Mutt offers once his chuckles have officially died down.

“A real one?” Kipp cautiously inquires. “Haven’t had one of those since I was a kid.”

“You’re still a Kid,” our boyfriend cheekily reminds.

“I’m The Kid ,” corrects our partner. “Remember…just like when it comes to custom jobs…the details make all the difference.”

“Real trees make bigger messes,” I gingerly remind while attempting to lift one of the saggy branches. “And between construction shit and baby shit and regular shit, I really don’t think adding more , unnecessary messes is a good idea.”

“At least not the types she can’t clean up with her tongue.”

Narrowing my mirth-filled gaze at Mutt is instant. “Did you say you wanted your nuts roasted over an open fire or Jack Frost kicking you in the nose?”

“ Nipping .”

“Not the way you’re goin’.”

Additional laughter shakes his frame prompting The Kid to interject, “Reusable seems like the best call.” He lets his attention fall to one of the boxes we had to dig limbs out of. “Do we need lights too?”

“Definitely,” replies the man who has been around him for more Christmases than I have.

I lean a little closer to visually scour the box too. “Tinsel?”

“Is that that shiny boa like shit?” Mutt inquires in tandem with redirecting his gaze to the container.

“Doesn’t know it’s called tinsel but knows what a boa is,” leaves me just above a whisper. “You are a tax write off mystery, Mutt.”

“ Thank you. ”

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

“Felt it.”

Our eyes momentarily exchange teasing glares until I’m yet again left with no choice but to smirk.

They are the best gift I could ever ask for.

I honestly need nothing else.

“Probably new ornaments too,” Kid announces upon him lowering his frame down to a squat. “Afterall, I only see one in here that really matters.” Before I have the opportunity to investigate, he lifts out a round, wooden ornament painted white with the number 50 in the center and his last name underneath. “This was the last ornament my mom ever got me.” Rather than meet our melting stares, he turns it around to show me the other side where it says Ferrari in a matching font. “It’d mean a lot to me if it was the first one, we put on our tree.” His blindingly blue eyes finally find their way to my brown. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, it is, babe.” I lower my frame to be directly beside his where I can lovingly plant a hand on his back. “I think that’s a great idea.”