Unwrapped

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"A lactose-free milk chocolate for the lady, with just a hint of cinnamon."

I reached up to take the bright red mug from Mr. Van Der Yates' silver tray of sweets. He might have been off duty for the twenty-fifth, but that didn't mean he was letting himself sit back and relax. Rather, on Christmas morning, I very quickly learned exactly who Dex inherited his hot cocoa-making skills from; it was a family trade that his dad took very seriously.

His golden eyes glimmered as he looked to the sofa opposite mine, throwing his protégé a wink. "Let's see if she can catch the secret ingredient."

"Not a chance," Dex said, grinning right back.

I was cozied up on the sofa in his parents' chalet, watching the guys and their families open their presents around the tree. Blair and Noah looked up at me skeptically from their spot on the floor below, while Dex cocked his head and leaned forward in his seat. Even James looked unconvinced as he re-joined me, passing his red hat to one of Noah's brothers after a long morning of playing Santa.

I mulled over the warm liquid like a true cocoa connoisseur. My eyes widened the slightest bit, my heart lifting in my chest. No, it couldn't be...

"Peanut butter," I declared.

Mr. V's eyebrows rose to the exposed rafters. He shook his head, a hearty laugh rippling through the carols playing over Noah's speaker. "Wow. That has to be a new record." He nudged James with his elbow before picking up his tray. "She's a keeper, kid."

"Oh, he knows," Blair purred under his breath, though not quite softly enough to escape a look from his older cousin.

James' gaze quickly fell back on me, a smile lighting up his voice as he moved a loose curl from over my face. "I didn't know you had such a finely-tuned palate."

"I don't. It's just ..." I watched the marshmallows bob up and down in my drink, swallowing the peanut butter cloaking my throat. "It's how my dad made it."

Wrapping paper tore around us, a few of Noah's siblings shrieking with joy. But James and I grew silent as those marshmallows began to swell.

I looked up to smile at him, to reassure him that I was okay. And I was okay. I would always miss my dad, and Christmas would always be a reminder of every tradition we once had. But it wasn't ruined. It was a time to remember him, to remember the love for the holidays he'd passed onto me.

James' features softened, every shade of blue in his eyes glimmering in the bright light of Christmas morning. He looked tanned and golden in his white woolen sweater, warming me from the inside out when he leaned over to brush his lips against my cheek.

Maybe I should have felt bad about breaking my no-PDA pact with Noah, especially in front of James' whole family. But since Mrs. Bennet was quite literally sitting on her husband's lap, I reasoned that James' quick peck was comparatively tame.

Besides, it was Christmas.

"Jeez, guys," Dex's voice sliced through our bubble. It was low and monotone, devoid of the usual melody that decorated it. "You shouldn't have. Really," he tried to smile, looking positively pained, "you shouldn't have."

I relaxed into James' side, raising my mug to hide the laugh I couldn't hold back. On Dex's lap sat a heap of torn wrapping, out from which he pulled a bright green sweater embroidered with an equally as green person.

Well, not a person, exactly.

Mrs. V didn't seem to catch his sarcasm. She shrouded him in a hug only a mother could give, motioning to her husband as he sandwiched Dex between them. "Of course, darling. Daddy and I know how much you love the Avengers gang."

"Yeah. When I was six."

"Your sock collection says otherwise," James quipped.

To which he received the closest thing to a glare as Dex could muster.

James' chuckle vibrated against my side, his hand leaving my waist to direct Noah's sister back to the tree. "Hey, Clara-bear, can you pass Dex the candy cane parcel?"

The red tulle on Cleo's skirt fanned around her as she spun. "I'll get it!"

"He asked me," Clara huffed, hoisting up her green tulle for efficiency as she raced her twin to the tree.

"You're hanging up the Santa hat?" I asked James, feigning disappointment.

He nodded, sighing comically. "I think it's time to pass it on."

"Huh. Shame."

"Shame?"

I lifted my chin to capture his gaze, shrugging. "You make a good Santa."

While I was supposed to look innocent, I absolutely could not hide the smile that suggested my insinuation was anything but. I pursed my lips to hide it, but I think that only made it worse.

He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, looking quite proud of himself. "Wow. Santa, huh?"

I couldn't speak without giving myself away, so I simply shrugged again. Because, apparently, that dream on the bus was absolutely onto something.

James looked good in red and white.

Especially when, on the holiest day of the year, he had the audacity to smirk. "Noted."

I muffled a laugh against his chest as Dex pulled our focus once again.

"Shut your mouth." This time, his voice was as lyrical as a sonnet, alight with the same glee radiating off of Noah's siblings. "Shut. Up."

James' grin broadened. "I won't."

"You're joking. You're joking," Dex cried. His hands curled around James' gift oh-so-carefully, pulling it out from the wrapping as I craned my neck to see. I could just make a brown leather hardcover that looked older than my grandparents, embossed with brass letters that spelled out 'Shakespeare'. "An Imperial?"

"I don't know why you're asking James," Noah questioned matter-of-factly, "when it's from your Secret Santa. As in secret. As in, you know, anonymous."

James closed his mouth, but with Noah's back turned, he threw Dex a nod.

Dex's mouth fell even wider, his hands flailing between a desire to open the book and inhale every word, and the fear of even touching it lest it disintegrated on his lap. I knew nothing about Shakespeare—bar the fact that he almost killed me in high school—but I could tell that whatever that book was, it was worth a little more than the presents I'd bought for James.

"You didn't get that from the mall," I accused playfully.

He ducked his head. "Guilty."

I rolled my eyes, but my heart was beating so fast I worried he'd feel it against his chest. He was just so good, so sweet and thoughtful and kind. Not just with me, with everyone he loved. Even with people he didn't.

To think—I almost wrote him off in the dorm halls all those months ago. I almost missed the sun because I was caught up playing in the rain.

Cleo appeared in front of us, rather bashful as she twisted a strand of coiled hair. She extended a gift box to James, wrapped in familiar white paper dotted with silver snowflakes.

"For me?" he asked, plucking it from her small hands. He removed the lid carefully, watching me from the corner of his eye. "I wonder who it's from."

I chewed on my smile as he rummaged around in the tissue paper, emerging victorious with the first of five items.

A big red bow tie.

He blinked down at it dumbly before looking up again, shooting me question marks beneath a furrowed brow. "Am I missing something?"

"Why are you asking her?" Noah swung around, backing up against the coffee table to peer directly at us. "It could be from any of us. Since, you know, it's a secret."

With the Kris Kringle police staring right at me, I could only throw James a non-committal shrug. "Keep going."

He shook his head before diving back into the box, pulling out a crimson leash with one hand and a matching collar with the other.

He frowned again, cogs turning in his head. "Is this your way of asking me to come home with you on weekends to visit Bandit?"

"It's not for Bandit."

He peered between the collar and the leash. "They're for ... me?"

"You probably should have told Miss Fifty Shades that we do the gift exchange in front of everyone," Blair cooed breathily, his insinuation surely turning my cheeks as bright as that bow.

I threw Mrs. Bennet a silent plea, and she stifled a giggle with a dainty hand before slipping off her husband's lap.

"Okay," she announced, patting down her periwinkle pencil skirt even though there were no creases in sight. "I may have had a little talk to your friends about what I could do to get you to visit home more often. Naturally," she motioned to Dex and Noah, "these two were useless."

"Oh, yeah," Dex agreed while Noah said, "Can confirm."

"But this one," she continued, sweeping her diamond gaze from my head to my toes. "She might be on to something." She pivoted on her cream heels, lifted a hand to her mouth, and called, "Lucinda?"

My heart was hammering as I craned my neck once again, unable to mask the smile on my lips. I could feel James burning holes in the side of my head, so I nudged him with my elbow and pointed to the door.

Blair's mother stepped through the garlands laced over the archway, cradling a handful of golden fur as the kids around us started to squeal.

I couldn't resist anymore—I was practically bouncing in my seat with excitement. I looked back at James, pushing back the hair that'd fallen over his eyes to see the look on his face.

But he was still frowning, his expression still blank.

"Merry Christmas, honey," Mrs. Bennet said as James' aunt finally reached us, the bundle of fur still squirming in her arms.

James' mouth flailed between words as he took the sight in. The huge brown eyes, the big black nose. The fur as perfect and golden as the hair on his own head, the little face cocked in an expression that mirrored his.

"Wait. It's ... mine?" He peered up at his parents skeptically, as though he was expecting to be the butt of an April Fools' joke in December. "You got me a dog?"

"Yesterday," his mother confirmed. "Madison helped pick him out."

"What about dad's allergies?"

"The lady at the shelter said he's hypoallergenic. And if he's not," Mrs. Bennet shrugged, "we can always get rid of him."

"The dog?"

"Your father."

Mr. B thought that was utterly hilarious, and his wife looked more than a little proud of her quick wit as he pulled her back onto his lap. But James was still dazed, still a few seconds behind.

He peered at me, frowning, his gaze uncharacteristically guarded. "You did this?"

"It was a team effort," I said modestly, though it was most definitely me. My heart was still racing, but hope was starting to slip away. I searched his eyes for something that alluded to ... I don't know. Happiness, maybe, or something like the affection that had consumed them when he'd been playing with Skip's dog in the back of his truck.

Had I really missed the mark that much?

"Do you like him?" I asked weakly.

A scoff caught in his throat, his frown finally dissipating. His mouth widened into a smile that rivaled Noah's trademark grin, blue eyes crinkling as he reached up to pluck the pup from his aunt's grasp.

"Like him?" he repeated. "I have a dog, Madi. Do you know how many times I've asked for a dog?"

"I'm pretty sure you cried over it when you were five," Dex joked—payback for the sock quip.

But James was in another word, rifling through the gift box I'd given him to find the bright red bow tie. He stretched the elastic over the beaming puppy's head, straightening it out before scrunching his little face between his hands.

"My very own Sherlock," he murmured.

I laughed, toying with his pup's fluffy ears. "Sherlock?"

He draped an arm over my shoulders, inviting me into the huddle. "Well, we all know I didn't exactly live up to the title."

Blair smirked. "That is a terrible name for a dog."

James was floating too high to care.

I jolted in my seat as Cleo poked me in the ribs, handing me a small golden parcel fastened with a white bow.

"Thank you, sweetheart," I said, fiddling with the ribbon securing the box. It was the size of my palm, the contents heavier than jewelry. But I didn't even get a chance to pull on the string before Dex sprung forward.

"Woah, woah, woah." He laughed, sounding nervous and urgent all at once. "Let's all hang on, okay? Let's remind ourselves how hard it is to buy presents for girls, and remember that Madi's Secret Santa—whoever he was—tried his best. But that he also has the receipt in case she hates it."

Noah cleared his throat.

"I mean probably," Dex clarified. "He probably has the receipt. Okay?"

Noah huffed, content.

I threw Dex a soft smile, mouthing back, "Okay."

I tried to recall my poker face as I popped the lid off the box, though I never did perfect the whole masking-my-emotions thing. But it was anyone's guess what Dex got me for Christmas, and I planned on loving whatever it was he picked out.

Or pretending to love it, at least.

A small silver bauble sat amidst a pile of tissue paper, its decorative details glittering under the white light filtering through the skylight. I pulled it out by its blush ribbon, cradling it carefully in my palm.

"Dex, it's—"

"Open it."

He was still hunched over, biting on his nails while his eyes seared the bauble intently. Frowning, I looked back down and found a clasp in the center.

As soon as I lifted the top, my breath caught in my throat.

An ornate ballerina began to twirl in the center of a tiny wintery forest, while three woodland creatures—a fawn, a rabbit, and a raccoon—spun on a snowy platform in the opposite direction. A soft rendition of Silent Night drifted out from a cylinder in the base, pricking Sherlock's floppy ears and causing his eyelids to become droopy.

I was just as captivated. Just as mesmerized. And when I failed to speak, Dex started to babble.

"I thought—"

Noah coughed.

"I mean, your Secret Santa thought ... I don't know... it's like us," he gestured to the baby animals before motioning to the Sugar Plum Fairy, "and you. And, maybe it can help you, like, remember your first Christmas with us. Or something—"

The rest of his sentence was lost as I threw myself on top of him. I'd catapulted myself off the sofa and into his unsuspecting arms, nuzzling my face into his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Thank you," I managed to utter. "I love it."

His embrace softened, his voice bashful when he asked, "You do?"

I worried he'd hear the tears in my voice, so I just nodded.

"Merry Christmas, Mads."

"Merry Christmas, Dex."

He hugged me a little tighter, and I was grateful for the opportunity to hide my face as the happiest of tears trailed down my cheek. But, like every time Dex and I got a little too mushy, his smile turned positively wicked while mischief dripped off his voice.

"Watch out, Bennet. I'm coming for your girl."

In the silence that followed, I could practically hear James glowering.

Dex nodded against my shoulder, confirming my supposition and retracting his arms. "Yep, he's going to kill me. Get off. Off!"

I laughed as he swatted me away, hopping off the sofa and walking back toward James. He handed his puppy to Clara before I could re-join him, reaching for my hand and meeting me on my feet instead.

"Come with me for a second."

I tilted my head. "Where?"

He nodded to the door, pulling me with him. "Just come."

I barely got a chance to protest before we were slipping through the archway. Luckily, everyone was pretty distracted—the kids were playing with Sherlock, the parents were starting to clean up the wrapping. Noah and Blair were whispering between themselves, like always, and Dex's nose was buried in his new book. So when I was sure we wouldn't be missed, I let James lead me out into the foyer.

He dug a lilac box out of his back pocket, toying with it nervously before extending it toward me. "Merry Christmas."

I blinked down at the gift. "I thought you got Dex for Secret Santa?"

"I did. I organized this a while ago."

"How long ago?"

His grin widened, and he shook his head, but his eyes gave him away.

"Open it," he prodded, passing me the box.

My heart was thumping, my fingers taking the reins while my mind spun with predictions. But when I opened the lid and peered inside, my brain went blank for the second time that day.

"When I first went to Blair with the idea, it was a miss-match of trashy Pandora charms." He rolled his eyes. "His words, obviously."

"Obviously," I mumbled mindlessly.

"He doesn't usually do gold. He made an exception." He inched closer, lifting the present from the satin base. "I couldn't imagine you in anything else."

I raised a hand, grazing a finger along each handcrafted charm hanging from a delicate gold chain. A test tube and Pi symbol balanced each other out on the outermost sides, followed in turn by an ornate house key—221b, it read—and a tiny, detailed lion head.

"You are a Gryffindor, right?"

My mind was still frozen, my mouth on auto-pilot. "I like to think so."

My fingers toyed with the birthstone next to the Hogwarts sigil.

"A necessity for any personalized charm collection, apparently," James explained. "Blair insisted."

The gem reflected the light from the tiny bulbs laced through the rafters, and I was sure a jewel had never shone so magnificently. But I was still warring with the ability to speak, so James directed my attention to a miniature sun balancing out the sparkling birthstone.

"This was a last-minute addition, and Blair nearly killed me for the short notice. But, after seeing you in Capri ..." He ducked his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I don't know. I want you to have your own bit of sunshine wherever you go."

I could only shake my head as I peered up at him softly. "I already do."

He failed to catch my insinuation, focused on the last trinket that sat in the middle of all the rest. Something about it stole his voice, just like my emotions were stifling mine.

I followed his eye line to a small, golden heart.

"And this?" I prodded, toying with the cool metal carefully.

He looked up sheepishly, not quite finding the courage to say the words yet. That was okay. He didn't have to. I knew.

I knew that heart symbolized his.

Tears were brimming in my eyes again, and I stood silently as James draped the chain over my neck and fastened it. I ran a finger along each gem—a collection of charms that reflected his version of me for my eyes to see.

I had to be careful, I realized, more careful than I'd ever been before. Because I didn't just have my own heart anymore; that glittering gold pendant was a very timely reminder. I had his now, too. We had twice the risk, but twice the reward. Twice the happiness, and twice the love.

Only months

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