Filfthy (65 page)

“Okay, rolls are in the oven along with the breakfast casserole,” Mom announces a few minutes later. Zane rinses his hands in the sink and unties his apron. “Should we all head to the living room for presents?”

One by one, we shuffle into the next room, the sofa cushions and chairs quickly becoming occupied. I take a seat on Royal’s lap, and he slips his arms around my waist as we watch Haven grabbing presents and shaking them.

“You want to be the official present passer-outter?” Mom asks Haven.

“Yes, yes, yes!” My niece jumps up and down, her tiny fists clenched in excitement as her flaxen hair falls in her eyes and the frilly hem of her nightgown sways around her knees.

For the next hour, we rip into our presents, spreading good cheer in the form of silver tinsel, reindeer and snowman wrapping paper, and shiny, red and gold bows, effectively destroying the living room until someone has the good sense to grab a trash bag from the kitchen.

Royal received a new Xbox game from Derek, and Delilah got me a sweater from this boutique in Chicago that I love. And just as I predicted, Haven went bananas over the life-size, talking Elsa doll we got her. For the rest of the morning, she wanted nothing to do with any of her other gifts, dragging her new pal by the hand, going from room to room. By two o’clock, we were all sleep, hanging around various parts of the house with full bellies and drooping eyelids. Haven and Elsa crashed on the floor in the dining room, and Derek had to carry them both upstairs.

Downstairs, Zane and Royal were talking all things football. I had to try not to laugh when I saw that twinkle in Royal’s eyes. He was trying so hard not to act like a crazy fan-boy, but I saw clear through him.

Forget anything I could’ve possibly given him for Christmas. Being able to hang out with one of his football idols trumps everything. I’m not sure I’ve seen this man smile so much in my life.

When I finally find the energy, I head to the kitchen to help with clean up, but by the time I get there, Delilah and Daphne are already hard at work, and all that’s left to do is shove some mashed potatoes into some Tupperware and call it good.

At the table, Mom is teaching Serena how to play Gin Rummy.

“You guys want to watch a movie?” Daphne’s question is directed at Delilah and me. She tries to smile, but her baby blues still hold a wistful gleam. In the chaotic craziness of this morning, I forgot how much she was struggling. “I could use some sister time.”

“Of course,” Delilah says. “Anything you want. You pick.”

“High School Musical?” Daphne scrunches her shoulders to her ears, and Delilah groans.

“I knew you were going to say that.” Delilah gives Daphne a playful slug on the arm. “But fine. I’ll watch it. Just for you.”

We head upstairs to my room, offering an invite to Mom and Serena who politely decline, and within minutes, we’re piled on my bed watching the opening credits of the one movie Daphne was once uncharacteristically obsessed with.

She smiles a genuine smile for the first time all day, quietly singing along to the opening number, never having forgotten the words. And then Delilah sings along. Then me. And pretty soon, we’re singing at the top of our lungs, dancing on my bed like a bunch of little girls. When the song ends, we collapse, laughing until our stomachs hurt, and settle in to watch the rest of the movie.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds, and I don’t particularly want to know. The only thing I’m one-hundred percent sure about, is that no matter what, everything’s always going to be okay.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m tentatively planning a book for Daphne Rosewood! It may not be ready until early 2017. If you’d like to know when the book is released, please sign up for my mailing list and like my Facebook page. (I recommend both!) XOXO

W
all Street Journal
bestselling author Winter Renshaw recently celebrated her third 29th birthday. By day, she wrangles kids and dogs, and by night, she wrangles words. She loves peonies, lipstick, and balmy summer days. Chips and salsa are her jam, and so is cruising down the highway with the windows down and the air blasting while 80s rock blares from the speakers of her Mom-UV.

She would describe her writing style as sexy, conflicted, and laced with heart. Her heroes are always alpha and her heroines are always smart and independent. HEA guaranteed.

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