When I woke up the next morning, it took a few minutes to realize that I wasn’t dreaming the slumbering omega next to me.

I opened my eyes to a dark room.  My internal clock suggested that it was close to dawn, but my phone was on the nightstand on the other side of the bed and I didn’t feel like getting up and potentially disturbing Chris to check.  Instead, I stayed where I was and listened to his slow, steady breathing.  When the sun rose and enough light peeked through the curtains that I could see him, I carefully turned over so I could look at him.

We’d started the night curled up in the bed together, Chris’s back against my chest and my arms wrapped around him.  Even though his scent had the same effect on me as ever, I didn’t do anything except hold him tightly against me as he drifted off to sleep; he was obviously exhausted, and I could tell that there was a lot on his mind.  As much as I wanted to kiss him and use my body to chase away all his pain and show him how incredible he truly was, now was not the time or place. 

He didn’t complain when I pressed one hand to his belly, and I stayed awake long after he had fallen asleep, savoring every little movement I could feel beneath my fingers.  The babe settled down after a while, too, yet it still took a long time for sleep to come for me.

I couldn’t help but smile when I rolled over and saw the reason I was cold: Chris was a complete bed and blanket hog.  We’d started out right in the middle of the king-sized hotel bed, yet somehow through the night, the omega had pushed me over to one side so he could spread out like a starfish.  Half the comforter had vanished over his side of the bed, and I had the feeling that he would have stolen the entire thing if I hadn’t been lying on my corner of it—I highly suspected that I’d rolled over onto it like that on purpose, even though it left my feet exposed and cold.

Well, it was a good excuse to get closer to him, anyway.  I wiggled my way to him and tugged a bit of the comforter over so I was covered, trying to be careful not to wake him up.  Unable to stop myself from reaching out to touch his belly again, I settled down and just… looked at him.  Marveled at how lovely he was and how warm the skin of his belly was where his robe had fallen open in the night.  Wondered what it would be like to wake up like this all the time, bed hog and all.

I had no idea what was going to happen with my brother and parents, or how I’d managed to fall for Chris so fast… but I did know that I couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving.  Chris deserved all the love and happiness the universe had to offer.  He was stronger than he realized; I was certain that he could raise his daughter alone if he had to, and still give her an amazing life.

But I wanted that life to include me, too, so badly it literally took my breath away.

“Riley?” Chris murmured eventually, eyes cracking open so he could peer blearily at me.

My face flushed as I realized that I’d been rubbing his belly as I stared at him, so lost in thought that I hadn’t even noticed him starting to stir.  I pulled my hand away, pretending not to notice the sleepily discontented sound he made in the back of his throat at the loss of contact.  “Good morning,” I answered, doing my very best to sound completely casual and in control like I hadn’t just been imagining standing with Chris as we sent our daughter off to her first day of school while simultaneously wondering if he had already chosen a name for her. I bet he had; no doubt he’d spent hours poring through name books, saying name after name aloud as he tried to decide which sounded right. It made me sad to think of him doing that alone.

He smiled sleepily at me.  “G’morning.  Time’s it?”

Just barely resisting the urge to sweep Chris’s bangs away from his face as the specter of the future I’d been imagining—our future—danced through my mind, I swallowed hard.  “Dunno.  Not too late, though.”

Chris yawned, blinked a few times, then snuggled down into the comforter as he pulled it up to his chin.  “I hafta pee but I don’t want to get up,” he told me.

I couldn’t help but smile at him.  “Can’t help you with that, I’m afraid.  I could call and ask the front desk if it’s possible for them to move the toilet into the bed, but I’m going to guess the answer is ‘no’.”

He pouted at me.  “Well why not?” he demanded teasingly. A moment later, his face softened.  “Thank you,” he said quietly, more awake now as he gazed into my eyes.

“You don’t—”

“I do,” he interrupted.  “Charging off into the snow like that was colossally stupid.  I just couldn’t bear standing there for another second with your parents looking at me like that.”  Chris looked away, brow crumpled and comforter still clutched under his chin.  

“I understand that more than you know,” I told him gently, propping myself up on one elbow.  “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Eyes brimming with tears, Chris glanced back at me and shook his head.

“That’s all right,” I said quickly.  “One thing at a time, okay?  Pee first.  Then we can go have breakfast, because I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.  We skipped dinner last night, after all.  Then after we eat we can think of the next step, okay?”

“Together?” Chris asked softly.

“Together,” I confirmed, and felt my heart swell when he smiled.  

“I… I should go back.”

Trying to pretend like I hadn’t been dreading this answer, I set my coffee down and nodded at Chris.  “Okay,” I said simply, because I didn’t trust myself to say anything else.  It was Chris’s choice to make, of course, and it was impractical to think we could just hide out in the hotel forever… but my heart still twisted in my chest to hear him say that he wanted to go back there.

Back to my brother, who didn’t deserve even a single hair off Chris’s head.

True to my word, we had taken the day piece by piece so far.  After lingering over a delicious breakfast, we’d returned to the same shopping center where we’d had our not-date a few days before and walked around for a while.  The snow had stopped falling not too long after we’d gotten to the hotel the previous evening, and while the roads were still completely covered, no power on heaven or earth was going to keep a mall from clearing its sidewalks on Christmas Eve, so we joined all the other last-minute shoppers in wandering in and out of the stores. 

Chris was mostly quiet, not even humming along to the Christmas music under his breath; I didn’t pressure him to speak, giving him time to work through his thoughts.  Then we’d had lunch, wandered around a bit more, and finally sat down in a coffee shop when the sky decided to start spitting tiny pellets of something that wasn’t quite rain and wasn’t quite snow.

I stared at the omega as he fiddled with the fake sprig of holly on the table.  He winced slightly as I watched, as though something pained him.  The visible strain on his face faded after a minute, and Chris sighed heavily.  His decision certainly wasn’t making him happy, though why would it?  Going back meant returning to the father of his child who didn’t want to be the father of his child, as well as to my parents, who would be thrilled to never see or hear from him again.

Yes, this was his choice to make… but I realized that I didn’t want him to make it without knowing how I felt. 

“Chris, I… I…”  Don’t go back.  Stay with me.  We can go anywhere; just don’t go back to him, I wanted to say, only words failed me.  

“I’m taking the money,” Chris said quietly.  He took a sip of his peppermint white hot chocolate and fiddled with the holly-patterned sleeve on the cup, not meeting my eyes.  “I-I have to think about what’s best for Charlotte,” he continued.  “If Ethan’s not going to be in the picture, then…  I have to do what’s best for her.”

“Charlotte?” I asked gently.  “Is that—”

“Her name,” Chris whispered, staring at the table.  

My heart soared upon hearing that Chris wasn’t actually going to try and stay with my brother… but I felt terrible when I realized the reason Chris wouldn’t meet my eyes was that he was ashamed.

“You should,” I told him.

Chris looked up quickly, pale blue eyes wide with surprise.  “Um…”

I reached out and took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.  “What my father did is totally fucked up—but don’t feel bad about taking the money and don’t let them make you feel bad about taking it.  The way they’ve treated you… get every penny out of my father you can.”

Looking like he was about to burst into tears, Chris nodded.  He took a moment to compose himself, drawing in a deep breath.  “But it—it means never seeing you again…”

“It means never seeing them again,” I corrected.  It wouldn’t be easy; I had no doubt that my parents would insist on Chris never contacting anyone in the family as part of the stipulations that came with the money.  But I wasn’t ready to let him go.

I wouldn’t ever be ready to let him go.

“Yeah?” Chris asked softly, understanding what I meant.  He searched my eyes, his own lighting up with cautious hope.  

“Yeah,” I echoed, squeezing his hand again. 

As though strengthened by my words and touch, Chris nodded and stood, finally pulling his hand away—but not without one quick squeeze in return.  “One step at a time,” he said, echoing my words from earlier that morning.

I stood as well, nodding.  “Everything’s going to be all right, Chris, one way or another.  It’s Christmas, remember?”  I gestured around at the decorations covering every inch of the coffee shop just as a little girl three tables over started singing an incredibly boisterous and off-key rendition of “Jingle Bells” that attracted the attention of almost everyone in the café. 

“Some Christmas,” Chris muttered, but even he couldn’t stop a tiny smile from appearing on his face as the girl’s mother tried unsuccessfully to get her to at least lower the volume of her song.

I couldn’t say that I’d ever been one to believe in a higher power or even the so-called magic of the holidays… but as I looked at Chris, I said a quiet prayer to anyone or anything that might be listening: that when Chris looked back on all this, his memories wouldn’t be all bad.

Mine wouldn’t be.

“There’s still time to turn around and leave,” I reminded Chris when he hesitated before getting out of the car, only half teasing.

Although the expression on his face said that he would very much have preferred to tell me to hit the gas and leave the mansion behind in the dust, Chris shook his head.  “It’s fine,” he said with a sigh.  

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” I asked carefully.  Chris had already told me he wanted to do this himself and didn’t even want my help getting his things together, but I didn’t like the idea of him facing my parents alone, even if my presence would only complicate things further. 

I hadn’t told him yet, but my mother had left a series of voicemails on my cell phone, ranging from polite questions about where I was to blatant accusations of purposefully trying to tear our family apart—as though my brother and parents weren’t doing a fantastic job of that on their own.  I didn’t know what had happened after Chris and I had left, but given the way my mother’s words had started to take on a slightly hysterical edge by the end, it couldn’t be anything good.  

“I’m sure,” he answered, doing nothing to lessen my suspicions that no matter how hard I tried to reassure him that I didn’t think any less of him for it, he was still ashamed about accepting the money my father offered him.  None of this was easy; even though Chris wasn’t in love with my brother, there were still a lot of emotions wrapped up in all this.  But when he glanced at me after taking off his seatbelt and preparing to open the door, there was a small smile on his face.  “Keep the car running.  We may need to make a quick getaway,” he teased.

I grinned at him.  “I have played hours of Grand Theft Auto in preparation for this moment.  They’ll never catch us alive!”  I winked at him and Chris laughed as he got out of my SUV. 

I watched through the windshield as he took a deep breath, looking up at the house.  A moment later he hunched in on himself, pressing his hands to his belly.  Just instant before I threw open my door to go see if he was all right, he straightened up again.  Then, burying his hands in the pockets of my jacket—which I’d insisted he wear all day even though he protested until I bought another one while we wandered around the outdoor mall—Chris marched up the steps to the door like he was headed to his funeral.

Staying put and waiting was easier said than done.

Trying very hard not to be impatient, I scrolled through the radio stations, not sure what I was in the mood for but positive that it wasn’t anything playing at that moment.  Of course, it was Christmas Eve, which meant that even rock stations were interspersing Christmas music into their playlists… and there was only one person that Christmas music made me think of.  Then I tried to entertain myself on my phone for a moment, even pulling up the work emails I’d been avoiding.  But it was hard to focus on messages I didn’t care about when Chris was in there, no doubt being treated like shit by my parents again.  It made me sick to imagine how he felt, having to stand there and listen to them say that they expected to never see him again while also shitting on him for taking the money they were the ones offering in the first place.

“Nope,” I muttered, yanking my keys out of the ignition.

For a long, long time, I’d blamed my failed relationship with Nick on my parents and their blatant disapproval of him—but really, it was on me.  I understood that now, even if it had taken falling in love with Chris to see it.  I hadn’t fought hard enough for Nick, and that had been our downfall.  I had let my parents drive a wedge between us.

I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

I knew Chris didn’t want my help doing this, but I absolutely could not just sit there and let anyone hurt him, family or not.  My brother had failed in his duty to support Chris, but I wouldn’t.  I couldn’t change the fact that my family mistakenly thought that Chris wasn’t good enough for them, or that my brother had his head so far up his ass he was purposefully pushing the best man he’d ever have out of his life.  But I could help Chris understand that he was worth so much more than he thought.  I knew him; even if he pretended like their words didn’t hurt him, I knew they did.

It only took a couple of seconds to dash up the steps.  I threw the door open and tumbled inside, nearly tripping over the rug and startling Mary with my abrupt entrance, who was heading for the door with a pair of bags in her hands and a suitcase trailing behind her.

Although she jumped when I flew inside, she didn’t hesitate.  “Dining room,” she said, shrewdly guessing what—or who—I sought.

“Thank you,” I told her, the words heartfelt, then took off through the house.  I skidded to a stop in the dining room’s doorway, tense.

The scene looked innocuous enough, if you didn’t know what was going on.  My father, sitting calmly at the head of the table; my mother hovering behind him, clutching her wine like it was a lifeline.  Chris, standing some feet away, hands clutching his belly.

“What do you mean, he’s gone?” Chris demanded right as I arrived.