Chapter 29

Penelope

“Merry Christmas, Penny,” he whispers against the skin of my neck, gently nudging me awake. I can’t help the smile that slips onto my face. Memories of last night and meeting his family tickle my consciousness, flooding me with warmth. Despite the turmoil and tension, I’ve never felt so much love in my life.

After Damien’s apology, things grew lighter and more at ease. The wine started flowing, although the men stuck to their beer, and a mountain of gifts were wrapped and placed strategically around the large Christmas tree. And then it was off to bed for an hour or two of sleep.

It was like a dream come true, one I never want to wake up from. Damien’s family accepted me as one of them without question. It’s a feeling I don’t think I will ever forget.

I finally feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be in life. With Damien. With his family. On this day.

Our first Christmas together.

“Good morning, handsome,” I turn in his arms and snuggle into his embrace, sneaking a kiss on his lips before I settle. “Merry Christmas.”

“I think the kids are up and moving about,” he murmurs against my lips. He’s right. I hear their muffled voices filled with excitement on the floor above us “Knowing my sisters, they’ll make them wait for everyone to drag their butts out of bed before letting them open a single gift.”

“That sounds like fun.” I smile up at him. A thrill runs through my body, and it takes everything inside of me to hide the excitement I feel. I bought him a gift at the airport. Even though we agreed to not buy for one another, I couldn’t help it. The small snowglobe reminded me of the first snow-filled walk we took during our time in Alaska. I wanted him to always remember our time there.

“Fun? Getting up before the ass-crack of dawn to watch a bunch of kids get excited over presents…” he trails off and looks down at me. “It does sound like fun.”

The sound of someone pounding on the door at the top of the stairs reverberates through the room. “Uncle Damien, Aunt Penny, Santa came. Mommy said we can’t open our gifts until everyone is awake.” Little Bonnie’s voice, filled with excitement and insistence, bellows through the door. “Please, come upstairs so we can open our presents.”

“See, I told you. If they have to spend the entire day tired and miserable, everyone else should, too.” Damien chuckles as he tosses the blankets off us both and lets me go all together.

“We’re coming,” he shouts up the stairs at Bonnie. She emits a squeal of delight before shouting all the way back to the living room, informting everyone that we are on our way up.

I sit up slowly, feeling lightheaded and a little queasy. Shaking my head, I reach for the thick robe Damien bought me the day he found me nearly stripped naked on top of a bar and chalk the feeling up to the change in altitude or something.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, and I look over at him with a weak smile.

“Must be the jet lag.” I shrug nonchalantly. “Or the late night.”

He smiles at me. His olive-colored eyes turn liquid as the reminder of what transpired between us last night plays out in both our heads. Not that I’m complaining, but I hate being sick.

“There were a lot of gifts to wrap,” he surmises. “Who knew my sisters would have so many kids?”

Speaking of children, the thought bubbles into my mind. I wonder if he wants children of his own. I know this thing between is still fairly new, but it’s a subject we’ve danced around without really talking about it. Seeing him with his nieces and nephews, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he would make an excellent father.

My stomach lurches, and I pitch forward to my feet, needing to make my way to the bathroom before the contents of my stomach land on the floor. I slam and lock the door behind me before barely making it over the toilet.

I slink down to the cold tile floor at the end of it and take a deep cleansing breath. Damien taps gently on the door, calling to me with worry laced in his voice.

“I’m okay,” I croak, feeling the burn in my throat. I pull myself to my feet, flush the toilet, and turn the faucet on. I grab my toothbrush and notice the sickness has passed.

Maybe it was the airport food?

“You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll be up as soon as I’m done here.” I gaze at myself in the mirror, noting the flush that has taken over my body.

“Are you sure? Do you want me to get you anything before I go?”

“Please, Damien,” I sigh and close my eyes. It’s already embarrassing enough that he heard me. His worry is sweet, but I don’t want him to see me like this. “I’m okay.”

I listen to him take a deep breath before reluctantly stepping away from the door. Feeling like I need to reassure him, I search for the right words. “I promise I’m okay. I just… need a minute… please.”

“I’ll go,” he says, his voice much farther from the door now. I hate the unsurity in his voice, but he goes.

After brushing my teeth twice, I crack open the bathroom door and peek out. Seeing an empty room, I slip out of the bathroom, cross toward the bed, and exchange my robe for Damien’s oversized one. I wrap myself in it, inhaling his spicy scent, letting it calm me.

I’ve been feeling poorly the last few days and am ready for whatever has come over me to be gone. Whether it’s a case of the flu or my nerves, I’m not sure. I just wish it would stop.

The sound of family filters down the stairs, making me think of my own brothers and sisters. With all that my life has ensued, I haven’t allowed myself to think about them. Besides the moments I talked in detail to Damien about them, I’ve refused to let myself feel their loss.

This is my first Christmas without them, and it’s impossible not to feel their absence. Especially now, when Damien’s family is patiently waiting for me to join them upstairs. I let the tears I’ve been holding back fall and send a small prayer out into the world for them.

“Penny?” a soft voice calls from the top of the stairs. It’s Astrid, Damien’s oldest sister.

“I’ll be right up,” I call, feeling frozen in my spot. I lift a hand and brush away the wet, trying to pull in the heartache I’ve released.

“Is everything all right?” she asks, her voice closer. I hear her soft steps on the stairs. “Damien said you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m all right,” I whisper, then take a breath and turn to face her. “It’s all the jet lag. I swear I’ve never been on so many planes in my life.”

She smiles at me, but I see the worry in her eyes. My tear-streaked face hasn’t gone unnoticed, but she doesn’t know me well enough to ask about it. She wants to, but we aren’t there yet.

“Do you like coffee? Savannah owns a coffee shop and has this amazing Christmas blend brewing you have to try.” She resumes her role of hostess. I give her a quick nod, but my stomach heaves at the thought. “But I also have an amazing chamomile tea that will help settle your stomach, if you’d prefer that.”

“That would be nice,” I murmur, tying Damien’s robe at my waist. I know I should probably remove it, but there is something about his scent that somehow calms me inside.

“We better get upstairs. I don’t know how much longer they’ll be able to hold off the kids. They were ready to tear apart the house when I came down here.” She laughs before putting an arm around my shoulders. “You can thank my mama and daddy for this famly tradition. No one gets to sleep in on Christmas Day.”

As we make our way back to the stairs, I remember the small package I tucked away in my bag before catching our flight out of Alaska.

“One second.” I spin back around, walk over to our luggage, and pull out the small box. Before tuning back to Astrid, I close my eyes and place the box against my chest, sending out another prayer, hoping my siblings know I thought about them today.

*****

After the last of the brightly-colored paper is stuffed into a large black trash bag, I finally find the courage to pull out the little white box from my pocket and catch his eye.

The chatter and commotion around us stop, and Damien lifts an eyebrow at me. I reach for his hand and place the box in the palm of his hand.

“This is for you,” I whisper, feeling a rush of blood hit my face. The urge to take the box back and hide it from him hits me hard, and I worry I’ve done something wrong.

What if he doesn’t like it? I can’t help the thought but push it aside as quickly as it came.

“I know we agreed not to get each other anything, but I couldn’t help myself. When I saw it, I wanted you to have it,” I explain, watching him look down at the gift, a smile playing at his lips.

“Now I don’t feel so bad,” he chuckles before handing me an envelope with my name. Where it came from, I have no idea, but I take the envelope from him.

“You got me a gift?” I smile, focusing on my name written in his bold handwriting. My heart swells at the gesture, and warmth fills my body. My nervousness disappears, and I feel giddy. “Nobody’s ever done that.”

“What?” he asks. His smile falters for a moment, and I realize what I admitted to. “You’ve never gotten a Christmas gift?”

Biting my lower lip, I contemplate making up some grand story but decide to be honest with him. He knows the deepest, darkest things about me and my life before him, so I nod.

“He wouldn’t let me have one,” I say without thinking it through. A roar fills the room, and I blink, suddenly remembering the number of adults sitting around us. They don’t know about me or where I came from. They don’t even know the truth about how Damien and I met; not that we’re hiding it from them, but the time hasn’t been right.

From the arguments and shouting voices, we aren’t going to be able to keep it from them any longer.

“What do you mean, he wouldn’t let you have one?” Astrid demands, glaring at her brother.

Shit, do they think I meant Damien wouldn’t let me have a gift?

“No, no, it’s not what you think,” I gasp, floundering to find the words, but it’s useless. All four sisters have stood from their places besides their husbands and are bearing down on us. Astrid’s husband begins urging the children out of the room, sending daggered looks toward Damien.

The screeching sound of a whistle peals through the air, silencing everyone in an instant.

“Astrid, Farrah, Savannah, and Skye, sit down.” Tom uses the dad voice again and their mouths drop, prepared to argue with him, but a narrowing of his eyes on them has them taking their previous seats. His whiskey-colored eyes rest on me, and while I don’t think he knows everything, he knows the circumstances between Damien and me are different. “I know Penelope didn’t mean what she said the way any of you took it.”

“No, I didn’t,” I squeak, feeling Damien’s hand slip into mine, entwining our fingers tightly. My throat feels tight, but I swallow hard, ready to give them this piece of me. “I wasn’t exactly truthful about how we met last night. I’m sorry.” I focus on Astrid, watching as her face softens. It gives me the courage to continue. “Damien saved my life, and the circumstances of our meeting… There’s nothing traditional about it.”

“I swear if he’s done something—” she flares, confusion laced into her brow.

“Would you just shut up and listen, Astrid?” Damien cuts her off, his eyes never leaving me. “This isn’t an easy story to tell. Show some fucking respect.”

She blanches, clearly taken aback by her brother’s response. But she listens—they all do—intently as I tell them my story and how we met. At the end of it all, after they’ve raged about Miguel, shed tears over the life I’ve lived, and declared our story one of the best they’ve ever heard, they each wrap us in their arms and give me the greatest Christmas gift I ever received. A family.

“What’s in the envelope?” Farrah asks, and I look down at the white parchment in my hand. In all that transpired, I’d forgotten it was there.

“The part of Penny I know she’s secretly missing,” Damien answers. I gasp and look at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart.

“I think we should give you two some privacy. Besides, we need to get breakfast started before the herd of children begins wandering in.” Astrid stands, and the rest follow. Savannah helps Tom, and they each leave the room with a soft smile and a nod of their heads.

“Open it,” Damien urges, pulling my attention back to the letter, but I don’t know if I can. If what I believe is in that envelope is there, the tears I’ve shed in the last hour will be nothing compared to what will come. When I don’t move right away, he reaches for it and opens the flap, revealing a handwritten letter.

My heart freezes in my chest, and I forget to take my next breath because the letter he’s now holding out to me is written in my mother’s hand.

On instinct, I snatch the letter from Damien’s hand and begin pouring over ever single word she wrote. I seek word of my siblings and cry out with joy when I see their names further down the page.

Dearest Penelope,

I write to you knowing I have no right to do so, or to say the things I am going to say, but I need to say them. My heart is filled with relief to learn you are alive and well. I prayed daily that you would find peace and safety.

It has been many months since the day you were taken from us, and I want you to know I have regretted not fighting for you. I have no excuse for the way I treated you, except to say it was either you or one of your younger sisters.

The devil was set on selling one of my girls, and I knew if you had a choice in the matter, it wouldn’t be one of them. I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart for being so callus and cold about it. I’m sorry for not being strong enough to stop him. I’ve always been powerless when it came to him, and it has shaped me into a terrible mother and woman.

I know I am beyond forgiveness, and I want you to know that I do not write you seeking it or your understanding. I write you with news of the devil’s death.

Miguel has left this earth. His soul is now burning in the deepest, darkest pits of hell. And for the first time in years, we can all breathe easier. We are free.

Your brothers and sisters are overjoyed to hear of your survival. Paolo lit a candle for you every day on his way home from school. Now, he lights it for your bright future and the man who saved your life.

Isa has taken your absence the hardest and has just finally stopped crying herself to sleep nightly. I think she has also taken a liking to the man your husband sent to check on us. His name is Bear, and even though I was taken aback by his burly looks, he lives up to the name given to him. He treats your baby sister like a princess and has promised to bring you home to her one day.

I hope you do return one day, for Isa’s sake. But in the meantime, I pray you are happy and this letter gives you some of the answers you seek.

I’m glad you have found a man to love you and to love back. A good man worthy of you and the light you carry inside. Please be happy, my daughter, always be happy.

Love,

Your Mother

I fold the letter, careful to keep it away from the tears falling once again down my face. I don’t want to smudge the words because I know I will want to reread her letter when I have a private moment to mull it over.

“Is she telling me the truth? Is he dead?” I ask Damien, afraid to trust the words my eyes barely grazed. I want them to be true, and not just for me.

“He had a heart attack,” he says, but I barely hear the words because the world around me has gone silent. My thoughts take over, and for the first time in months, I feel peace settle inside myself.

Miguel is gone.

He’s dead.

It was either me or one of the girls.

My mother made the right choice. They wouldn’t have been as lucky as I have been. I’ve seen firsthand what they did to the younger girls, the ones Isa’s age. She wouldn’t have survived a single night.

Yes, my mother made the right choice.

And now he’s gone. They’re safe.

I’m safe.

I can go home.

Shit.

My body tenses, and I feel Damien lean into me, wrapping his arms tightly around me. It’s like he knows the thoughts passing through my head because he murmurs the words into my hair.

“No, angel, I didn’t give this to you because I want you to leave me.” He kisses my head. “You’re not going home, at least not without me and the intention to return here with me.”

“You sent someone to check on them?”

“Yes.”

“You were going to have him killed, weren’t you?”

“Karma did the job for me.” He doesn’t bother denying it. His voice is firm, but I can hear a twinge of disappointment. He wanted Miguel to suffer for what he did to me, and if I’m honest, I did, too. But knowing he’s no longer on this earth and a threat to my family is good enough.

“Thank you,” I whisper, turning in his arms and placing my lips against his. It’s a gentle kiss, chaste compared to most, nothing like I wish it could be. “Now, open my gift to you.”

He pulls back and produces the small white box. Lifting the lid, he let’s loose a hearty chuckle before pulling out the small snowglobe.

“I wanted something to remind you of our time,” I explain. It’s cheesy when you compare it to my gift, but the snowglobe represents the moment our relationship went from friendship to something greater. It represents us as a couple.

“It’s perfect,” he says and leans in to place another kiss on my lips. I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the moment and the feeling of his warm kiss.