Christmasly Obedient: Small Town Holiday Romantic Comedy Romance

by Julia Kent

  Order. Mike needed order. The pieces of him in disarray had to fall in line somehow before he could function.

  And then he knew exactly what to do.

  No one was going to like it right now, because the squirming, impatient kids in line deserved to have their turn.

  Too bad.

  “I need to make a call,” Mike said to Sandy, terse and hard in a way he hadn't been for years.

  “But the line – ”

  “Sandy.” His firmness jolted her, and he didn't care. “What hospital is Khalil's mother at?”

  “The only one within a hundred miles, of course.”

  “And who is in charge of billing there? And the pediatric division for whatever an autistic kid needs in terms of therapy and support?”

  Dawning recognition lit up her face as she grabbed his forearm, eyes starting to glisten. “Oh, Mike.” Shooing him toward the camp office, which happened to be right there in the lodge, she waved him off. “I'll keep everyone happy.” She turned to the line. “Who wants a special treat if you can wait ten more minutes. I have chocolate-covered Santa marshmallows!”

  The crowd roared. Crisis averted. Sugar bought him time.

  “You go make that call,” she insisted, as she reached into a green basket and grabbed foil packets, shooing him off.

  After leaving Bournham Industries under a cloud of scandal, he'd simplified his financial affairs, his accounting and tax team helping him to create a foundation. Between his and Jeremy's non-profits, they distributed significant sums to charity, Jeremy focusing more on developing countries and entrepreneurship, Mike giving to larger institutions in the U.S.

  One call was all he needed to make. His executive director would handle the rest.

  He wasn't gone for more than seven minutes, a chain of actions put in place.

  For once, his old life, all his old sacrifices, came in handy.

  “Ho ho ho!” he chuckled as he came back to a line of twenty faces, some smeared with chocolate, all eagerly tipped up to watch the magic man the kids adored. Lydia was in the room, too, eyes amused and so sweet he wanted to kiss her. Hold her. Be with her.

  Breathe with her.

  Eyes drifting to her midsection, he then looked at every child in the room.

  Would he have one of these in line to see Santa one day?

  And just like that, the question dissolved as clarity struck.

  Yes.

  Yes, he would.

  They would.

  10

  Lydia

  Christmas Morning

  The boxes from the drugstore were so unassuming. Simple cardboard, they had logos and words on them, silver-wrapped plastic sticks inside with computer chips and displays.

  Magic, really.

  Pee on the stick, and the magic would tell you your future.

  Who knew a simple pregnancy test could be like visiting a psychic with a crystal ball?

  She had waited on purpose, not wanting to tempt fate. Her period was now two days late, though she'd always had a range. Two days was nothing, but it was everything, too.

  Everything.

  Did she want to be pregnant? Yes and no. Yes, because over time, she'd become attached to the idea of her body creating new life. Of feeding it. Of nurturing and sustaining, then sharing that life with Mike and Jeremy. If she was, indeed, pregnant, this child would grow up surrounded by so much love.

  And more than enough parents.

  Her mom and dad would be beside themselves with joy, she knew, though the social awkwardness of a grandchild with two dads and a mom would be, well...

  It would be reality.

  The no regarding pregnancy was trickier. Slipperier. Hard to explain why the no was even there, given the excitement she felt at the prospect of being with child. The no wasn't just a relic, though. It was full-throated and very much a formed idea whose shape had substance.

  This was not planned.

  This was not discussed.

  This was not prepared for.

  And yet, here she stood, in the bathroom, one hand on the long zipper of her footed pajama suit, the other holding a pregnancy test stick.

  All that stopped her from the truth was pee.

  And not raccoon pee.

  Holding her bladder in the mornings was a time-honored tradition when Maine turned from fall to winter, the morning chill enough to make anyone want to stay under the covers to milk the warmth for just a few more precious minutes, but on a morning like this, it was different.

  This was fate.

  “Urine for a surprise,” she joked aloud, undressing enough to sit and do the deed.

  And then she set the stick on the counter, wiped, washed her hands, set the timer on her phone, and closed her eyes.

  Patience was never her strong suit.

  If that test result was positive, she'd have to learn. Children were nothing but patience extractors, her mother used to say, mining for more of it from whatever human they could prospect.

  Bing!

  This was it. Opening her eyes slowly, she looked.

  “Not Pregnant.”

  The words came out of her mouth as if spoken by someone else.

  Someone who wasn't born yet.

  Tension she didn't know she'd been holding in her body released like she was melting, her breath coming into her like a long ribbon of freedom, slow and steady, almost sonorous. The air had a taste, a scent, a brightness she couldn't quite name.

  And then it didn't.

  Everything was gray.

  As quickly as she'd perked up and relaxed from the negative result, she'd deflated, eyes wide but not wet, heart full but not hurting.

  Negative.

  Mike had suggested she test twice, just to be sure, so she did as recommended, the thin tendril of hope barely cracking the surface of emotion. Yet again, she tore the foil packet open.

  And the she paused.

  Because she'd emptied her bladder the first try.

  Filling a water glass, she laughed at her own reflection, then watched as tears filled her lower lids.

  “Silly,” she admonished herself, as if the person in the mirror weren't her. Gulping the contents of the small glass, her hand was on the faucet before she was done, running more water, wondering if she was watering everything down.

  The test didn't require first morning urine, but she'd given it to the stick.

  And the stick said NO.

  If she had to wait until her bladder put out, she might as well do something constructive with her time.

  “Floss and polish, or pluck those eyebrows?” she asked herself, half expecting her reflection to give an answer.

  Nothing.

  “Fine. Teeth it is.”

  Jeremy swore by brushing his teeth once a week with baking soda (toothpaste the other days), declaring it better than any dental cleaning, though he was careful with those, too. All three of them were so... adult about their self care.

  Even lackadaisical Jeremy never fought the idea that twice-a-year dental visits, once-a-year bloodwork and physicals, and a daily multivitamin Mike had pressed on hm were part of the flow of a life of self-worth.

  Baking soda it was.

  As she flossed, she swayed in place, body moving just enough to keep her mind from racing. Most mornings, flossing was something she did quickly, her teeth an assembly line that needed to be cleared out in even spacings, then the toothbrush there like a mint-flavored street sweeper.

  Now? She took her time.

  Baking soda tasted awful, and it was so abrasive. Her teeth felt like she'd polished them with metal gel. A twinge in her bladder made her look at the new pregnancy test.

  “Should I wait?” she muttered to herself, wishing she'd peed in a cup and simply used that to retest. How was she supposed to know there was a protocol for this?

  Next time, she'd remember.

  Next time.

  Yet again, she performed the deed, setting her clock, wondering if she'd made an error.

 
; An accident started this whole process. It wasn't out of the range of possibility that she had erred, too.

  Two pregnancy tests had made sense for her original plan as well, when there had been a hope of positive results. She had two foil-wrapped boxes, perfect for sliding the thin tests into.

  Positive for Jeremy.

  Positive for Mike.

  The negative – that she hadn't planned for.

  Time ticked by like she'd done something wrong, each second a punishment, some shaming she didn't deserve. Who gets pregnant randomly from a condom failure like this? Sure, women did.

  But not all.

  And as the timer dinged and Lydia stared at Not Pregnant again, she let out a long huff of breath.

  Apparently, not her, either.

  With more composure than she knew she had, Lydia left the bathroom, both sticks in hand, and found the boxes for the morning gifts. Sliding each test into a box, she closed them, fluffed the red ribbons on top, and walked into the living room.

  Jeremy greeted her with a smile and a piping hot mocha in a mug for her. She set the boxes on the coffee table in front of them, Mike coming to her right.

  Gold for Jeremy, silver for Mike.

  “Does the box match my hair?” Mike joked, running a hand through his, grinning at her with more emotion and – was he nervous? – than he normally showed in his face.

  “If it does, I need a dye job,” Jeremy said drolly.

  “What's the verdict?” Mike asked softly, touching her knee as she sipped, grateful for the warm drink.

  “See for yourself.”

  Her words made them both lean forward in unison, pick up the boxes, then look at each other. Twin nods made her smile, and then they opened the boxes.

  Their faces fell.

  Fell.

  “Oh,” Mike said, throat moving as he swallowed hard. “Oh.”

  “Right,” Jeremy said, blinking rapidly, face twisting with contemplation. “Not Pregnant.”

  “Not,” she confirmed, touching her belly. “Let the PMS begin.”

  Jeremy groaned. “I never even thought of that, Mike! If we get her pregnant, no dealing with the monthly ice cream run.”

  “Are you kidding?” Mike countered. “It'll be a daily ice cream run. Pregnant women are worse.”

  She knew the banter covered for their true feelings. Watching their disappointment planted a seed in her.

  Not their literal seed.

  But an emotional one.

  Bzzzz.

  “Who left their phone on?” Mike demanded, glaring at Jeremy.

  “Don't blame me! I let the battery die on mine and haven't seen it for two days.”

  “It was me,” Lydia confessed. “Sorry.”

  Bzzzz.

  “I have to get it!” she moaned. “Krysta said she'd text me this morning. She's staying in Boston but coming here for New Year's.” Pushing up from the couch, she crossed the room in her footie pajamas, loving the feel of her covered feet as they slid along the wide pine floors.

  The text was simple.

  But oh, so sweet.

  Am I an auntie? Krysta asked, with little praying hands emojis following.

  Not Pregnant, Lydia typed back, then added a frownie face.

  I'm sorry, Krysta replied. You okay?

  Yes. Wistful, mostly. How about you?

  Krysta's next text made Lydia whoop with joy.

  “Caleb finally made his move,” Lydia read aloud, leading to raucous cheers from Jeremy and Mike.

  “GO CALEB!”

  “ABOUT TIME!”

  That's awesome! Lydia texted back, adding every smiling emoji she could possibly fit in.

  What do I do about Zach? Krysta asked with a frown.

  Why not have both? Lydia replied, earning an immediate tongue-poking-out emoji from Krysta.

  Did you say yes to Caleb? Lydia texted quickly.

  It was hard to say anything, Krysta replied.

  Huh?

  He just walked up to me and kissed me out of the blue, Krysta typed. The response made Lydia's heart race.

  Who knew her little brother could be so romantic?

  “He didn't ask her out,” Lydia said, breathless.

  Jeremy and Mike paused. “What?”

  “He just walked up to her and kissed her!” Hand fluttering to her heart, she pressed her palm against it and sighed sentimentally. “That is so sweet!”

  “Smart guy,” Mike said, moving to the kitchen to pour a fresh mug of coffee. “Bold move.”

  Lydia looked at him, her heart torn in so many directions. Happy she wasn't pregnant.

  Sad she wasn't, too.

  Memories of how Mike made his move, and Jeremy, too, flooded her, the rush of emotion almost too much.

  Almost.

  Congratulations. I want to hear all the juicy details! Let's talk tonight, she texted Krysta.

  Sounds good. I'll call you from Jeddy's.

  Jeddy's?

  I'm working with Caleb tonight. The free Christmas Dinner program.

  Lydia didn't know her face could stretch this much from smiling.

  I love you, she texted her bestie. And I'm so, so happy for you and Caleb.

  A heart was all she got in response.

  Turning to Jeremy and Mike, she found them in front of the tree, the fire blazing in the old wood stove. Domestic bliss filled her with a warmth no burning wood could ever generate. Add in Christmas and the coziness of the season, and she was in heaven.

  There was really only one more thing that could make her life more perfect.

  Bzzz.

  “NOT MINE!” Lydia said, holding up her silent phone.

  Mike looked across the room, his face going to a guilty grimace. “It's me.” Crossing the room, he looked at his phone, the most extraordinary expression of joy coming over him.

  Was he – was he about to cry?

  “What's up?” Jeremy asked him as he came back to the couch, eyes pinned to the phone.

  “Sandy.”

  “Mom? We're going over there soon. Does she need something? Why wouldn't she text me?” Lydia wondered aloud, instantly curious and slightly worried.

  “Because this isn't about Christmas dinner. It's about Ruth, Khalil, and Harriet.”

  “Oh! Is everything okay?” Mike had told her all about the adorable little boy’s sad story.

  “Harriet was discharged late last night. She's home for Christmas.”

  “Oh, Mike!” Lydia threw her arms around his neck. She knew the tale from Mike but also from her mother's recounting. Word had gotten out about how that Pete's not-quite-son-in-law had been a damn fine Santa this year. Harriet and Ruth were locals, and when outsiders helped, the locals took stock.

  “And Ruth wants to know how to reach me. Santa was 'too generous' this year.”

  “What did 'Santa’ give Khalil? Other than his mama?” Lydia asked through happy tears.

  “I didn't give him his mama. I just made sure that she got the best care and the bills covered. But we sent him a series of electronic scales and a new microscope.”

  “That's a lot! Mom said your foundation is helping with his speech and occupational therapy?”

  “Yeah,” he said, clearly not wanting to go into it. “And we're giving a big grant to the local autism center.”

  “That's amazing!”

  “Don't know why I didn't think about it before.”

  “Well, you did now. That's what matters.”

  He double-thumbed a text, sent it, then powered the phone off.

  “Ahem,” Mike said, holding up the negative pregnancy test, changing the subject. “We need to talk about this.”

  “Talk?” Jeremy asked as Lydia moved across the room and snuggled in her place between them on the couch. Curling toward Jeremy, she put her feet in his lap, moving her toes suggestively in a way that made him groan.

  Mike rolled his eyes. “Yes. Talk.”

  “I don't think we need to talk,” she replied, looking up from him as
she sipped from her mug, enjoying the sweet mocha goodness.

  “Why are you two so dead set against talking?” Mike countered.

  “Because,” she said, stretching out, her head in his lap, face a foot from his as Jeremy took the mug out of her hands. “I think we know what we all want.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes,” she said as Jeremy ran his hands up the sides of her body, the delicious tingle of his touch making her smile, Mike's blue eyes mesmerizing her. “And what we want doesn't involve talking. But it most certainly does involve mouths.”

  “And no condoms,” Mike said soberly as he bent down for a long, lush kiss.

  Christmas morning in Verily, Maine, just got a whole lot warmer.

  :)

  Recipe note: I'm often asked, whenever I write about Jeddy's Diner, if I have recipes for the foods I describe. I do not, but you can use Google to find similar recipes. I tend to make the dishes up as I go along, and yes — I’ve cooked some of them here at home.

  If I were more talented, I'd create a recipe book with all of Madge and Caleb's fine cuisine, but alas, I am not so blessed. I can follow someone else's recipe, which is essentially a formula, but I cannot come up with my own. My creativity appears to be limited to the page. <3

  Thank you so much for reading Christmasly Obedient, the newest book in Julia Kent's USA Today bestselling Obedient series. If you want more of Mike, Jeremy and Lydia, and you haven't read their series, go to Maliciously Obedient to get started. Here's an excerpt – keep flipping to read.

  Excerpt: Maliciously Obedient

  Getting caught reading Fifty Shades of Grey in the parking lot at work wasn’t the best way to meet her boss. A boss she didn’t know she had. A boss who now had the job she had been waiting to apply for (and win) for the past year.

  So Lydia Charles was having a very bad day. And it was only 7:32 a.m.

  Tap tap tap.

  She looked up, startled, to find a pair of bright green eyes, shaded by a hand, peering in the window of her little red car. He caught the book cover and smirked.

  Oh, screw off, she thought, shoving her car key in the ignition and turning it on so she could roll down the window. As if it weren’t bad enough being caught reading Mommy Porn (and she wasn’t even a mom), her last few minutes of freedom before enslavement as a corporate drone were being bothered by some anonymous guy.