A few minutes before she didn’t want to get out of bed, and now she’s the one dragging me to the presents.
We sit on the floor by the tree and she eagerly looks at the presents, handing me one of mine and taking one with her name.
“On the count of three,” she says. “One, two, three.” She counts down each number on a finger and then we rip into our packages like lunatics.
I chuckle. “A kindle?”
She smiles bashfully. “You read a lot. I thought you might want to try this.”
“It’s perfect.” I lean over and kiss her—frankly, I’ll use anything as an excuse to kiss her anymore.
She looks down at the item in her lap, fighting laughter. “Really?”
“It was made for you.”
She shakes her head and holds up the shirt. “Make Me Coffee. Yeah, it’s appropriate.”
“I figured you wear your funny saying shirts all the time, so one can finally be from me.”
She folds it and lays it aside. “Another?” She nods at the packages.
I hold out my hands for a present and she hands me one.
We both rip into the packages, then the next, and another, until finally we’re done and surrounded by the carnage of wrapping paper.
“I’ll clean up,” Nova says, standing up and already gathering up the paper.
I help her so it doesn’t take too long and then grab a trash bag and hold it open while she stuffs the paper inside.
“I guess we should get ready and head over to Cade’s?” she asks.
“You can start getting ready,” I tell her. “I’m going to make us something to eat first.”
“Okay, thank you.” She stands on her tiptoes and kisses my jaw before hurrying into the bathroom before I can pinch her butt.
While she showers, I make the batter for homemade waffles. It’s not as complicated as people make it out to be, I just usually don’t make them because I hate the mess it makes in the waffle iron. But I figure it’s Christmas and this calls for a special occasion.
While I stir the batter, I munch on one of the cookies Nova and I made last night.
Nova insisted that making cookies on Christmas Eve was tradition and we had to do it.
I think maybe we started a whole new kind of tradition when I ended up fucking her on the counter, but since we did finish making the cookies, I count it as a double win.
I wonder if Nova didn’t come up with the idea to make cookies because she was craving normalcy. I know the last few days had to have been draining for her—admitting she has a son, and telling not only me but all of our friends. The girl deserves a round of applause for her strength. She’s amazing.
I pour the batter onto the hot waffle iron and close it, listening to the batter sizzle.
It doesn’t take long for me to make all the waffles and Nova comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered with her damp hair hanging like a dark curtain, and the white towel wrapped around her body.
She once told me she found me lickable when I came out of the shower wet with a towel around my waist. I didn’t understand what she meant, and I might’ve even laughed, but I totally understand it now.
“Mmm,” she hums. “That smells amazing.” She pads over and in
spects the plate of waffles. “Save some for me,” she jokes, before heading into her room to change.
Honestly, her room is mine now. It’s where she sleeps and primarily lives. I need to just move her stuff into my dresser and turn her room into an office or something.
I fix two plates and coffee and set everything on the table.