Chapter 25

25

TRISTAN

Nina stirs against me, her soft body shifting beneath the sheets. I roll onto my side and prop myself up on one elbow to watch her blink awake, her eyes immediately finding mine. The early morning light streams in through the curtains, casting a warm glow over her peaceful face. A strand of her silky blonde hair falls across her cheek. I reach out and gently pick it up, marveling at how the sunlight turns it to spun gold between my fingers.

Twisting the lock, I admire how it shimmers, capturing the soft radiance of the morning. Then, carefully, I tuck it behind her ear, my fingertips grazing her smooth skin. To my surprise, she doesn’t flinch at the gesture. She stares up at me, trusting.

“Merry Christmas,” I murmur, my voice still husky with sleep but filled with awe at her beauty in this unguarded moment.

Her lips curve into a slow smile, as gradual and warm as the sunrise itself. It illuminates her entire face. My heart stumbles on itself. I want to wake up to that smile every morning.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers back. “What time is it?”

“Early still. Everyone’s asleep.” I brush my knuckles down her cheek. “Do you want your present now or later?”

Nina arches an eyebrow. “Is that a dirty innuendo or do you actually have a gift for me?” Her tone is playful, teasing.

I flick the tip of her pert nose. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Thompson. I really have a present for you.”

“Wait, what?” Her expression turns serious, and she pushes herself up to a sitting position, wrapping the sheets around her torso. “But I didn’t get you anything! I didn’t think we were doing gifts. You should’ve told me.”

“Relax, it’s not a big deal. Just a silly little thing.” I shrug and sit up too, the comforter pooling around my waist. Her gaze drops to my bare chest, greedy as she takes me in. “Although, if you keep looking at me like that, you might give me the impression you’d prefer the dirty innuendo.” I punctuate the line by clicking my tongue.

Her responding smirk is vicious as she slowly lowers the sheets covering her chest, revealing an expanse of creamy white skin that makes me feral. “Who’s gawking now?” she quips.

I forcefully tear my eyes away from her luscious curves and croak, mouth turning dry, “You want your present or not?”

“Let me see it then.” Both our gazes drop to my crotch, and we burst out laughing. Then she ruffles my hair. “The actual gift, I mean. If it’s early, we have time before anyone else gets up.”

My smile widens. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

I slip out of the warm cocoon of her bed, instantly missing her nearness, and pull up my boxer briefs. I pad quietly down the hall to my room, where I retrieve the small gift-wrapped box from my suitcase. I had it made on a whim yesterday at the mall, not even sure if I’d work up the nerve to give it to her. But in the hazy magic of this Christmas morning, it feels right.

“Here.” I climb back into bed and hold out the festively wrapped package to her. “Merry Christmas, Nina.”

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity as she takes the gift from my hands. She tears into the wrapping paper with the eagerness of a child.

I watch intently as she lifts the lid of the box, revealing the snow globe nestled inside. Her brow furrows briefly before her expression shifts to one of surprise and wonder. “Is this…?”

“The selfie we took in New Haven yesterday,” I confirm, unable to keep the note of pride from my voice. “I had it made into a snow globe. Express service at the mall.”

Nina carefully extracts the globe from its packaging, cradling it in her palms. She gives it a gentle shake and watches, mesmerized, as the tiny flakes swirl around our smiling faces. “Tristan, this is… I can’t believe you did this. When did you even have the time?”

I grin at her, relishing her reaction. “You, my dear, have the smallest bladder known to humankind. On one of your many visits to the restroom, I seized my chance.”

She swats at me playfully, her laughter like the tinkling of bells. “Jerk. But seriously… thank you. I love it.” She shakes it again.

Overcome by a swell of emotion, I lean in and capture her lips with mine. The kiss is tender, filled with all the things I’m still too afraid to say out loud. When we part, a glance at the clock tells me it’s time to slip away before the rest of the family wakes.

I drop my forehead against hers. “I have to go now.”

With great reluctance, I extract myself from her embrace and gather my things. One last lingering look, and I’m out the door, a mix of satisfaction and bittersweet longing simmering within me.

The morning passes in a festive blur of laughter and cheer as the Thompson household comes alive with the spirit of Christmas. By the time Uncle Milo arrives with his clan, the sun is high in the sky, glinting off the pristine blanket of snow that covers the world outside.

We bundle up in coats and scarves, tumbling out into the frosty air like a pack of overexcited puppies. The snow is a blank canvas, begging to be marked by our presence. In no time at all, a full-fledged snowball fight erupts, filling the crisp air with shouts of mirth and the thud of icy projectiles finding their targets.

I catch Nina’s eye across the battlefield, there’s a naughty glint in her gaze that untethers me. We engage in our own private skirmish, lobbing packed spheres of snow at each other amidst the chaos. Every hit is a flirtatious tease, every dodge an invitation to give chase. We dance around each other, breathless and giddy, always careful not to draw too much attention from the others.

Later, as the kids set about building a lopsided snowman with their parents, Nina and I fall to the ground to make snow angels side by side. Our gloved fingers brush, a stolen caress hidden by the activity around us. We exchange secretive smiles, cheeks rosy from more than just the cold.

In this moment, surrounded by the people she loves most, I feel a pang of longing, a desire to truly belong. The easy affection the Thompsons share stands in stark contrast to the chilly silences and tense politeness that mark my family gatherings.

When Nina turns her head to look at me, her eyes bright with joy and something deeper, I think that maybe, just maybe, I do belong. That I’ve finally found my place in the world. Right here, by her side.

But then Dylan decks her with a particularly well-aimed snowball, and I remember there’s still a side of this equation I haven’t solved. How to tell my best friend I’ve had sex with his little sister. That I want to keep on doing it, possibly for the rest of my life.

I dodge the thought and attack Dylan from behind. Nina and I double-team him until we all have snow sneaking down our necks and other parts that should stay dry.

By the time we pile back inside, we’re trembling, our noses reddened from the cold. But the aroma of roasted turkey and cinnamon wafts through the air, enveloping us in the essence of Christmas and promising a warm reprieve. Peals of laughter echo off the walls as everyone sheds their snowy layers and congregates in the dining room.

Nina’s mom emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her festive apron. “Lunch is ready! Sit, sit while the food is hot!”

The table is a sight to behold, laden with dishes that took hours to prepare. Golden turkey, glistening ham, creamy mashed potatoes, vibrant green beans—it’s a feast prepared with love. I think of my mother’s catered Christmas meals with a twinge of bitterness. Regret for a childhood that was drab and loveless washes over me. Imagine growing up like this, surrounded by warmth and love. Having dinner together every night, then a bedtime story and a kiss before going to sleep.

Nina catches my gaze and frowns at the jagged emotions she must read on my face. She tilts her head as if to ask if I’m okay. I smile and nod because the warmth she’s put in my chest has melted all the frost of my upbringing.

We fill our plates and toast to family, love, and the magic of the season. As I savor each mouthful, stories are swapped, memories relived, and gentle teasing flows as freely as the wine. This is what family should be like—effortless, accepting, full of laughter.

After the meal, we migrate to the living room, bellies stretching and hearts content. It’s time for presents, and the kids bounce with barely contained excitement. Wrapping paper flies, ribbons tangle, and exclamations of delight fill the air as each gift is unveiled.

In the turmoil, Nina catches my eye, her shoulders relaxed, her expression open. She mouths a silent “thank you,” and I know she doesn’t mean just the snow globe.

As the last present is opened and the final shred of paper falls to the floor, a sense of peace settles over the room. We sprawl out on the couch or on the rugs, limbs heavy with too much food, as Lisa selects a classic Christmas movie.

The credits begin to roll, but my thoughts are far from the flickering screen. Instead, I study the surrounding faces, committing each smile to memory. This is the family I never had, the love I always yearned for. And at the center of it all is Nina, radiant and perfect, the missing piece I never knew I needed. I thought having Dylan was enough, but as much as I love my best friend, it doesn’t compare to what I’m feeling right now.

She must feel my gaze because she turns, her green eyes locking with mine. The possibility of many more happy Christmases together brimming in them.

For so long, the idea of starting a family of my own terrified me. How could I trust in the permanence of love when my own parents never gave me any? But here, at this moment, with Nina by my side, I feel a shift within me. A tiny seed of hope takes root deep in my core, whispering of possibilities I never dared to imagine.

I’m ready to take a leap of faith. To open my heart and let myself fall. Because with Nina, I know I’ll always have a soft place to land.