Chapter 11

Christmas morning…

Moira

Curling my feet up underneath me on the couch, I blow air across the steaming cup of coffee in my hand. I let my gaze fall on the Christmas tree lights and enjoy this moment of utter silence and alone time. I love the warm glow casting ambient light over the darkened, pre-dawn living room, filling me with peace and serenity, which is not something I tend to feel a lot of these days

Things have just been… off.

Ever since our fight a month ago, we can’t seem to get ourselves on track. The fight itself blew over fairly quickly. Zach went out for a drive, and when he came back, he apologized very specifically for getting so upset with me and for leaving. I quickly forgave him because let’s face it, he had reason to be hurt and angry. Upon reflection, I know it was wrong what I did.

Oh, it wasn’t wrong that I had dreams that I realized were unfulfilled, but it was wrong of me to have them and not discuss them with Zach first and foremost. He’s my best friend, my confidant, my mentor, and my biggest champion. He’s my soulmate, the yin to my yang, and the universe created him solely for me, and I for him. It was wrong of me to ever let things get to a point where I took the easy way out. When Zach said I reached out to Randall rather than him with the job prospect, he was absolutely right. I did it because I didn’t want to have the tough conversation with Zach. I was afraid of what my husband might say, and I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. I still have tremors of guilt over that, but as I said, the fight was over and apologies were accepted.

Except… things are just a little weird.

We’re just… existing.

Our conversation is polite. We laugh easily with each other, and we go to great lengths to show our support for one another. Zach’s been trying to make it home for dinner most nights, and I certainly haven’t brought up the prospect of returning to teaching, even though Zach told me Thanksgiving night that if I wanted to do it, he’d support me no matter what.

We are saying all the right words, doing all the right things, and yet… it all just seems so very wrong.

Our “connection” is gone, and I’m terrified that we may have a deep fracture between us that can’t be repaired.

I can hear Jaime stirring in her crib, and because Zach is a light sleeper, I know at this moment he’s probably sitting up in our bed. Not even the prospect of Santa Claus coming last night would be enough to rouse Cannon from his sound sleep, so I know Zach will stop off in his room to wake him up.

I’m sure Zach will be surprised to find me already out of bed since I’m not a morning person, but Christmas is always different. There’s always a hum of excitement that seems to buzz within my veins, made even more apparent because we have the kids’ excitement playing into it. Jaime’s still not quite sure about the concept of Santa Claus, but Cannon was so excited he was beside himself last night. He must have asked me a dozen times if I thought he’d been good enough all year to warrant presents.

The tiny patter of feet coming down the hallway has me turning my gaze, and I see Cannon skid to a halt before the tree. His eyes are wide and disbelieving as he takes in all the presents. I had actually wrapped all the gifts from “Santa” in gold foil paper and dressed them with red velveteen bows for Jaime and green for Cannon.

“Are those all for me?” Cannon whispers to me, not daring to turn his face from the bounty.

“Santa left a note and said the ones with the green bows are for you and the red bows are for Jaime.”

He looks slightly disappointed to have to share with his sister, but then he drops to his knees with eagerness sparkling in his eyes.

“Let’s wait for Jaime,” I tell him, and I see a look of torture roll across his face. “I can hear Daddy getting her up now.”

Turning, I set my coffee cup on the table beside the couch and then walk over to Cannon. I sit down beside him, pulling a large, gold box with a green bow toward me. “This looks like a good present here,” I suggest as I hand it to him.

Poor Cannon looks ready to pee his pants as he takes the box, but his little bladder is saved as Zach walks into the living room holding Jaime. She squeals when she sees the presents and starts chanting, “Santa, Santa, Santa.”

“Here,” Zach says as he bends over and passes Jaime to me. I settle her on my lap and watch as Zach sits on the opposite side of Cannon.

Jaime leans forward, grabs a box with a green bow, and promptly gets yelled at by Cannon. “That’s mine!”

“Hey,” Zach chides as he puts Cannon in a light headlock and pulls him into his side. He kisses him on the head—which never fails to warm my heart—and says, “Don’t yell at your sister. Santa might come and take these back.”

I gently pull the box away from Jaime and hand her one with a red bow. “The red ones are for you,” I tell her, but she’s too young to understand colors, so I’ll have to monitor her thieving little hands.

Both kids tear into the paper, Cannon unfurling his prize first… a Transformers Lego set. He shrieks with glee and starts to open the box.

“Wait a minute, kiddo,” Zach says softly. “How about we unwrap everything first, then you can play with all the toys after. Okay?”

Cannon grins, and Zach starts handing out the presents.

For the next twenty minutes, there’s a flurry of ribbon pulling, paper shredding, and cries of joy from the kids. Zach and I just lean back and watch it all unfurl, stupid grins on our faces, and I’m pretty sure we’re getting more out of this than the kids. It’s our one opportunity every year to truly spoil them with no resulting guilt.

While the kids play with their new toys and Zach cleans up the paper, I make some cinnamon rolls for breakfast. It takes some finesse and a stern daddy voice to finally get the kids to the table to eat, and I’ve never seen food go down so fast. At one point, I think Cannon tried to swallow half a roll without chewing, and I was afraid I’d have to try the Heimlich maneuver.

I’m utterly surprised when Zach comes up behind me while I rinse out my coffee cup at the sink, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling into my neck. While Zach and I have been intimate plenty with each other since our fight, even that seems off to me as well. We certainly have no problem in the sex department, but I realize just now that we’ve been missing little spontaneous acts of affection like what he’s doing right now. In fact, I can’t remember a time in the last month where one of us has just spontaneously hugged the other.

I’m filled with such elation over his small touch that I go weak in my knees. Unbridled hope and joy bubble up within me, and for a moment, I channel the feeling of the first time Zach told me he loved me. It’s almost as if I were falling in love all over again with this man.

“Want your Christmas present?” he asks me with a low, rumbling voice.

“What?” I exclaim, pulling away to turn toward him. “No, Zach. We agreed no presents for each other today.”

With both of us being so busy, and truly wanting to make this about the kids, Zach and I just always removed that pressure each year and agreed to no gifts.

“Relax,” he says as he reaches into his pajama pocket. “It’s not something big.”

He pulls a small, black box out, no wrapping paper, and hands it to me. I look at it curiously for a moment before taking it from him. When I open it, I’m completely confused to see two flash drives sitting in the box. With a black sharpie, someone wrote “Choice #1” on one of the drives, and “Choice #2” on the other.

I look up to him, my brows furrowed. “What are they?”

“I’ll show you in a bit,” he promises as he takes the box back from me. Leaning in, he gives me a kiss, a pat on my ass, and says, “Now… Randall will be here soon with his gifts. Why don’t you go get showered, and I’ll watch the kids while you do that?”

Thoroughly confused, I can do nothing but shake my head in bemusement and head back toward our bathroom.

So much for lounging around in our pajamas all day.

The doorbell rings and I head toward the door, yelling over my shoulder, “Zach… Randall’s here.”

He’s been in our bedroom “taking a shower” for the past half hour, which is odd, because Zach is a five-minutes-to-get-ready type of guy. I’ve long since taken mine, but I’m letting my hair dry naturally rather than blow dry it as I was eager to get back out and watch the kids play with their new toys.

I swing the door open, pinning Randall with a huge grin. “Merry Christmas.”

He’s wearing a Santa hat tilted jauntily to the left and is holding two huge bags full of gifts. I know all of those are for the kids because we also exchanged promises with Randall of no gift exchanges amongst the three of us. “Merry Christmas, Moira dear.”

“Come on in,” I tell him as I reach out to grab a bag. He gratefully releases it and follows me back toward the living room.

“Uncle Randall,” Cannon yells from his position on the floor where he plays with some Hot Wheels. “Come see what Santa brought me.”

Jaime pushes up from the ground and toddles toward him, holding a new doll. Randall sets the other bag of gifts down, scoops her up, and then rounds the couch to head toward Cannon. “I can’t wait to see what Santa brought. And I have presents too.”

I start to laugh, but then noise from the hallway catches my attention. Zach is walking toward me, pulling our huge suitcase on wheels behind him. My jaw drops open as he gives me a wink, and then he says to Randall, “You need anything before we leave?”

“Leave?” I gasp, and my head snaps to Randall.

He doesn’t even look at me, just sits down on the ground with Jaime. “I’m all good. You two have fun.”

“Fun?” I ask stupidly.

“Yeah, fun,” Zach says as he pushes at my lower back to urge me toward the front door. “Now grab your purse. We have a flight to catch.”

“Wait,” I say as I dig my heels in. “What the hell is going on?”

“We’re starting our anniversary celebration right now,” Zach says with mock frustration in his voice, but his twinkling eyes give away his amusement. “Now get your ass in gear, Mrs. Easton. Kiss the kids goodbye if you must, but I’m ready to get out of here with my wife and get all kinds of sexy-crazy with her.”

“I’m staying with the kids,” Randall provides, but I kind of had that one figured out on my own.

“But my clothes—”

“I’ve packed for you,” Zach says, pushing me again toward the door.

“But did you get my—?”

“I got what I think you’ll need,” he asserts, giving me another push. “And what I missed, we can buy, but I doubt we’ll be wearing much in the way of clothing.”

“But—”

He silences me with a kiss.

A hard, brutal kiss followed by a low growl only I can hear. “Get your ass in the fucking car, Moira. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can fuck my wife, okay?”

A bolt of lust sizzles through me, and I stupidly nod at him. He pushes past me and heads toward the door. I start to follow him blindly… like the Pied Piper, but then I shake my head.

“Wait,” I yell at him. “I’ve got to hug the kids goodbye.”