Her Festive Baby Bombshell

“You got caught?”

He shook his head. “Not at first. The problem was my brother for all of his boasting had no clue how to play cards. So we ended up playing Go Fish.”

Holly couldn’t help but laugh, imagining those two little boys. “I bet you kept your parents on their toes.”

“I suppose we did—for a while anyway.” The smile slipped from his face and she wanted to put it back there. He was so handsome when he smiled.

“So what happened with the lights?”

“Well, when my parents got home, my mother called us down to the living room. It seems my father tried to fix the lights that were out on the lower part of the tree, but he soon found they were missing. My mother wanted to know if we knew anything about it. I looked at my brother and he looked at me. Then we both shrugged. We tried to assure her the tree looked good, but she wasn’t buying any of it. My mother didn’t have to look very long to find the lights. As I recall, we were grounded for a week. My father had the task of putting the lights back on the tree with all of the ornaments and ribbon still on it. He was not happy at all.”

“I wouldn’t think he would be.”

“Okay. So now it’s my turn. Let’s see. Where did you grow up?”

She gave him a funny look. “Seriously, that’s what you want to know?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

“I grew up in Queens. A long way from your Upper East Side home.”

“Not that far.”

“Maybe not by train but it is by lifestyle.” When Finn glanced away, she realized how that sounded. She just wasn’t good at thinking about her family and the way things used to be so she always searched for a diversion.

“It’s my turn.” She thought for a moment and then asked, “Okay, what’s your favorite color?”

He sent her a look of disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just that I thought these were questions to get to know each other. I don’t know how my favorite color has much to do with anything.”

“I’ll tell you once you spit it out.”

He sighed. “Green. Hunter green. Now why was that so important to you?”

“Are you sure it isn’t money green?” He rolled his eyes and smiled at her before she continued. “It’s important to me because I need a color to paint the babies’ bedroom.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Then I get to ask you what your favorite color is.”

“Purple. A deep purple.”

“Sounds like our children are going to have interesting bedrooms with purple and green walls.”

Holly paused and thought about it for a minute. “I think we can make it work.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very. Think about green foliage with purple skies. A palm tree with a monkey or two or three. And perhaps a bunch of bananas here and there for a splash of yellow.”

His eyes widened. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Come up with that mural off the top of your head?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just sounded fun and like something our children might enjoy.”

“I think you’re right. I’ll have the painters get started on it right away.”

“Whoa! Slow down. I don’t even know where we’ll be living by the time these babies are born.” When the smile slipped from his face, she knew it was time for a new question. “Why do you always leave New York at Christmastime? No, scratch that. I know that answer. I guess my real question is why do you hate Christmas?”

He frowned. “So now you’re going for the really hard questions, huh? No, what’s your middle name? Or what’s your favorite food?”

She shrugged. “I just can’t imagine hating Christmas. It’s the season of hope.”

There was a faraway look in his eyes. “My mother, she used to love it, too. She would deck out our house the day after Thanksgiving. It was a tradition. And it wasn’t just her. The whole family took part, pulling the boxes of decorations out of the attic while Christmas carols played in the background. After we hung the outside lights, my mother would whip up hot chocolate with those little marshmallows.”