by KD Robichaux
“God love her,” I add, shaking my head. Being retired, the woman doesn’t know how to not try to take over everything anyone else is doing. If you don’t cut her off at the beginning, your project will suddenly become hers. I don’t think she realizes she does this; she’s only trying to be helpful.
With Josalyn upstairs playing with her cousins and Avary with her grandparents, I sit down at the kitchen table and take a minute to relax. When I look over at Jason, I see he’s sipping on a glass of his dark red wine.
“Wow, you didn’t wait long, did you?” I raise a brow at him, and he looks down into the liquid.
“I figured if I’m going to drink, I better do it early so it wears off before we go home. Don’t worry, baby,” he adds, seeing the expression on my face. “I’m only going to have a glass or two, and after I eat, I won’t be able to feel anything. If I do, I promise I’ll tell you and you can drive home.”
I can only have a glass or two myself, since I breastfeed the baby, so what he says appeases me. If having some wine will aid in lifting his Scrooge-like mood, then he can have the whole damn bottle for all I care.
“Would you like a glass, Kayla?” Buffy asks from behind her counter, and when I look up, she’s glaring at Jason.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, babe. You want some of your wine we brought?” Jason hops up from the table and moves to open the bottle of moscato with the corkscrew sitting next to Buffy’s baby pink KitchenAid mixer. I’ve threatened to steal it several times, but I always get laughed at. One day…
“Yes, please. It’s warm, so will you throw a couple of ice cubes in it? I don’t understand how you can drink that dry-ass wine, especially with it not cold. I don’t like to have to drink water behind my wine in order to wet my tongue again.”
“I love the dry reds too, but I like to add Sprite to it and make it a wine spritzer,” Buffy interjects, opening the oven and sliding the pan of crab legs in before shutting it again.
“I’ve never tried it like that before. Maybe that would make it bearable. You do your crab in the oven?” I ask, fascinated. I always learn cool things in the kitchen every time I come to Buffy’s.
“Yeah, it’s so much easier than trying to boil them in a big pot on the stove, especially since we’re doing so many.”
I watch as she pulls several sticks of butter out of the refrigerator, unwraps them, and puts them in bowls. She sits them next to the stove, assumingly so they’ll be close by to melt in the microwave above it once the crab is ready.
Jason closes the freezer and walks toward me, my heart jumping a little. After everything we’ve been through, I doubt I’ll ever get used to him being my man, here to do things for me as simple as pour me a glass of wine. Even after our yearlong long-distance relationship, moving to Texas to be with him, and having his baby. The two and a half years before that I had to spend without my soul mate was… terrible, to say the least. Thinking I would have to live without him… It’s still surreal I’m here, with Jason, and I’m his girl.
Well, woman now, I guess. We’ve been through and have grown up so much since I first fell for him that I can’t really be called a girl anymore. It’s been nearly five years since I first met him. I can remember that night so vividly, like it happened only hours ago instead of half a decade. I can almost smell the engine oil mixed with his cologne as he changed the starter in his old Chevy truck. I feel the same scattering butterflies erupt in my stomach, remembering the first time our eyes locked over the hood as he wiped his hands on a shop rag.
“What’s that face?” he whispers in my ear as he leans down and places the wine glass on the table next to me. “What are you thinking about, baby? Because that look is making my dick hard.”
At my gasp, he chuckles and sits back down in his seat. I know the heat in my cheeks is visible when Buffy looks over at me and shakes her head. Letting out one of her laughs, she playfully gripes, “You two! Not at the table where my kids eat!”
An hour later, after setting up all the pots and pans full of food with serving spoons and filling glasses with ice, we all line up and pile our plates with everything from the crab legs we brought, to Buffy’s homemade stuffing. We set the kids at the table in the kitchen, and the grown-ups sit down at the table in the dining room. Avary went down for a nap upstairs in Abigail’s crib a few minutes ago after I nursed her, so I can eat in peace. I turn the volume on the baby monitor up so I’ll be sure to hear it if she cries.
“You want a refill, Jason?” Buffy asks before she sits down, and they exchange a look I barely catch before it disappears.
“Yes, please,” he replies, handing her his glass. She quickly moves through the doorway into the kitchen to pour him more wine before returning and placing it in front of him.
Looking at him closely, I don’t really know what emotion I see on his face. He doesn’t look like he’s in a bad mood anymore. He almost looks anxious. Nervous, even. He flexes his hands as he rests his wrists on the edge of the table, and he takes some deep breaths as he looks down into his lap. I really hope being around so much of my big family isn’t freaking him out.
I reach over and grasp his hand, and when he looks from my grip up into my face, it warms my heart to see him visibly relax. He smiles at me then lifts my knuckles to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on them before squeezing my fingers then releasing them.
The next hour is filled with the sounds of cracking crab legs, moans of appreciation, humorous banter, and of course, Buffy’s laughter, followed by everyone else’s.
“I’m going to go wake Avary up and bring her downstairs so there might be some hope she’ll sleep tonight,” I tell Jason, standing from the table when I’m finished stuffing myself.
“I got your plate, babe,” he says, waving my hands away from my mess. There wasn’t a single leg left out of the ten pounds of crab I bought. I lean down and kiss him quickly on the lips before walking through the kitchen, out to the foyer, and up the carpeted stairs. I turn right at the top and quietly open Abigail’s door, not wanting to startle Avary awake.
After gently rubbing her back and petting her chubby cheeks, she slowly awakens, and when she looks up to see who’s loving on her, her dark chocolate eyes, the same as her daddy’s, sparkle as she sees it’s me, and her face splits with a wide, toothless grin. “Hey there, sleepy head. Did you have sweet dreams, baby girl?” I coo, picking up my little bundle and putting her to my chest. I smooth out her red satin dress and bury my nose in her neck, breathing in her baby scent.
“We’re about to open presents downstairs. You want to go see all your family?” I ask her.
Her response is another giant smile, and her answer satisfies me enough that we make our way back downstairs.
“Gimme my grandbaby,” my dad says, holding his arms out. “But give her to me backwards. They like to see what’s going on, ya know.”
I hand Avary to him with her back to his front, and he wraps one arm across her chest and places his other under her butt, so she’s basically sitting in his grasp. I’ve watched him hold all eight of my nieces and nephews this way, and it makes my heart swell to see him hold my own daughter this way, the same way it did when he used to hold Josalyn.
He bounces her a few times, and when she giggles and drools, I know she’s good. It’s like she remembers him from when we went to visit him, Mom, and Granny last month in North Carolina for Thanksgiving. Or maybe she just senses that PopPop loves her to death.
Suddenly, the room fills with bodies of all shapes and sizes. From the miniature ones of Abigail and Josalyn, to the tall ones of my boyfriend, brother, and Steve, mixed in with the medium ones of my nieces, Amanda and Aspen, my nephew Alex, and Buffy and Barbara. We all pile onto the couch, giant leather ottoman, and the floor, waiting anxiously while Buffy plugs in the Christmas tree and dims the overhead light.
Jason sits beside me on the light tan suede couch, and I feel him stretch and put his arm behind me along the pillows. I lean into him and kiss his neck before reaching
forward to tighten Josalyn’s ponytail, where she bounces on the ottoman next to Abigail.
“Okay, babies. I’m going to hand each of you a present, but don’t open it until everyone has one, got it?” Buffy says from where she’s kneeling next to the lit tree.
“Got it!” all the kids say in unison, making all the adults grin as we watch Buffy read the labels on each of the gift bags and wrapped boxes, passing them out to who they belong to.
When all five kids have one in their hands, and Barbara holds one for Avary next to my dad, he calls out, “Rip and tear!” like he has at every birthday and Christmas as far back as I can remember. Suddenly, the room is filled with the sounds of paper being demolished and the children’s excited squealing, making my cheeks hurt I’m smiling so big.
“Oh, my gosh! Aunt Kayla, this is awesome!” my seven-year-old niece, Aspen, shouts.
“Bring it over here. Let me show you,” I tell her, and she wobbles over on her knees from the other side of the ottoman. “Look, it just looks like a toy ATM machine, but it’s really a piggy bank that locks and keeps count of your money for you.” I point out the instructions on the back while she plays with the buttons.
“That’s perfect for her!” Buffy enthuses. “She’s a little money hoarder. She doesn’t spend a dime of her birthday, Christmas, or Tooth Fairy money—says she’s saving up for a car.”
“I remember you saying that. Saw this and had to get it for her.” I laugh, and Aspen tackle-hugs me against the pillows of the couch, giving me a big kiss on my cheek. I love this sweet girl so much, just as much as my blood-related nieces and nephews. She’s literally Tony’s redheaded stepchild, which made me giggle the first time I met her. She’s so amazing about playing with her much younger cousin Josalyn, who worships the ground she walks on.
She crawls off my lap and into Jason’s, giving him the same treatment. “Thank you, Uncle Jason!”
I’m so proud of him when he squeezes her back and tells her, “You’re very welcome.” Growing up an only child, he’s had to get used to all the little ones in my family. And the big ones, for that matter. He was a little shell-shocked the first time my parents and brothers gave him hugs. I have a very affectionate family. We don’t even end phone calls without saying I love you.
Just as Aspen moves away, we’re being attacked by my one and a half year old niece, Abigail, and Josalyn, who want us to help them open their Fisher Price toy and Barbie doll. When I get Josalyn’s Barbie out of the package, I lean close to her so she can hear me over the chaos. “Don’t take off her clothes, okay, baby? We don’t want to lose them before we can get her home.” The child loves changing her Barbie dolls’ clothes.
“‘Kay, Mommy,” she agrees then turns to Abigail’s toy to help her figure out what it does.
My dad comes over next, handing Jason the baby and another Fisher Price toy so he can open his own gift from us. Avary wiggles in his arms, and I lean over and get myself a slobbery kiss before I hear Dad’s, “Oooooh, chocolate-covered cherries. My favorite!” Taped to the front is a card with enough money inside for him to go see a couple of movies, his favorite pastime. “Thanks, kids.” He stands and plants a kiss on top of not only my head, but Jason’s too, and I can’t help but giggle at Jason’s befuddled face.
The adults agreed only to get gifts for all the kids instead of each other too, since we have so many little ones between us, so I’m very surprised when Aspen calls from beside the Christmas tree, “Aunt Kayla, there’s one for you under here!”
I turn to look at her, her curly auburn hair glowing all around her where she’s reaching beneath the tree. She’s only seven, so maybe she’s reading it wrong and it’s something under there for my brother’s family’s Christmas morning tomorrow.
But sure enough, when she walks over to me and hands me the big white envelope, my name in cursive is scrawled across the front. “Thank you, baby,” I tell her, and open it up.
As I start to read it, it seems odd that it sounds so romantic. I mean, I love my brother and his wife a lot, but the card says things like, For me, the best Christmas gift this year will be having you by my side, and Christmas comes once a year, but the love I have for you only comes once in a lifetime.
It’s not until I get down to the bottom and see Jason’s normal handwriting, instead of the fancy cursive on the envelope, that I realize it’s not from Tony and Buffy.
“This is from you?” I look over at my handsome boyfriend, my face and voice full of surprise. “I thought we were going to exchange gifts tomorrow. I didn’t bring yours,” I say, a little disappointment tingeing my words.
“Just read the rest,” he says quietly, lifting his chin toward the card.
I look down and read in his neat handwriting, “Go upstairs to the kids’ bathroom. I love you, Jason.”
I think for a moment with my eyebrows furrowed, and then it dawns on me. “Oh, my gosh! You actually remembered! You got me my Victoria’s Secret Snowplum shower gel, body spray, and lotion, didn’t you?” I bounce up and down on the couch and then wrap my arms around him. It makes sense he’d put it in the bathroom for me to find, seeing how they’re body care products. I’ve been begging him for it for over a month, because it’s a limited edition scent that only comes out around Christmastime.
I don’t even give him a chance to respond before I leap off the couch, round the corner of the living room into the foyer, and bound up the stairs two at a time. When I get to the bathroom at the head of the steps, the motion sensor light flips on and I take a look around. There’s nothing on the counter… nothing in the sink… nothing on the toilet lid… nothing in the bathtub except for the kids’ shampoos…. I don’t see a Victoria’s Secret bag anywhere. I look down and see the cabinet under the sink is slightly cracked open, so I reach for the knob and pull it open. What I find instead isn’t a basket full of yummy smelling products, but yet another card.
Across the front, it says, Kayla, open first then go downstairs.
Sliding it out of the envelope, I laugh at the two reindeer on the front, who are both skating toward a big hole in the ice. Pointing at it, one of the reindeer says to the other, “Look out… ice hole!” and the other one is turned to glare at him, saying, “What did you call me?”
When I open the card up, I jump and almost drop it when Jason’s voice starts talking to me, which in turn shuts off what he had obviously recorded previously. Now that I’m expecting it, I reopen the card and listen to my man’s deep, sexy twang.
“Merry Christmas, baby. I love you so much. Your Christmas hunt’s almost over. Just go back downstairs for your next clue.”
Shaking my head, with a big, goofy grin across my face, I tuck the card back in the envelope and head back down the steps. My soul is happy, hearing so much of my big family gathered in one place as they chatter and laugh, but suddenly, as my feet trot down the stairs, I hear everything suddenly go absolutely quiet. Even the Christmas music Buffy had playing is silenced.
With my eyebrows pulled down, I round into the living room from the foyer… and my heart stops.
Standing in a giant group of loving faces, everyone is staring at me with huge smiles where I just entered, all except my Jason, who is in front of me.
Down on one knee.
A black velvet ring box lifted toward me.
His gorgeous face and twinkling eyes full of mischief and adoration.
I’ve got tunnel vision. All I see is him. It all makes sense now—the grouchy mood, the undecipherable looks between people today, his nervousness at dinner. Everyone already knew but me. His attitude today was because he was so tense, anxious, his big plan all laid out and ready to go.
His sexy lips are lifted into his crooked smirk, the first I’ve seen all day. His scruff has been allowed to grow for a few days, and the darkness of his cheeks make his eyes look even brighter than normal, the chocolaty brown of his irises a shocking contrast to the stark whiteness surrounding them.
I glance down, and the elega
nt ring box in his masculine, rough hand stands out against the backdrop of his green and white striped polo shirt I insisted he wear to look festive. His dark jean-clad knee presses into the white carpet, while his elbow rests on his other one.
He starts speaking, and all other thoughts leave my mind as I listen to his voice, the voice I’ve loved since the moment I first met him as he cursed at his truck. It wraps me up like a warm winter blanket, comforting, feeling like I could be engulfed by it forever as it soothes me. Yet my heart still pounds ferociously in my chest. I bet if I looked down, I’d see my bright red shirt moving with its beat. But I can’t look away from my beautiful man.
“Kayla, we’ve been through hell and back. But that’s what matters—we made it back to each other. You are the one who got away, but then came back to me. You are my soul mate, the one I was made to be with. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll spend every minute of the rest of my life earning you if you’ll spend it with me. Will you marry me, baby?”
I come out of my stupor as soon as the question leaves his mouth, and I throw myself on top of him, wrapping my arms around his neck and laughing as he stands up. With a squeaked, “Yes!” the room erupts in applause, congratulations, and the sounds of cameras going off. As I finally pull away far enough that he can slide the ring on my finger, tears sting my nose as I look at what he picked.
He remembered. He remembered from years ago when I described my dream ring. The checklist is all there. Pear shaped center diamond. Smaller diamonds circling the band. Dainty, not gaudy, so it wouldn’t look stupid on my tiny hand. It’s perfect, just like my fiancé.
My fiancé.
Oh, my dear God, Jason Robichaux is my fiancé.
With that thought, I wrap myself back around him and laugh-cry with my face buried in his collarbone. He has to hold me up for a moment until I hear Josalyn’s tiny sweet voice next to us, asking, “Daddy, why is Mommy crying?”