“Where are we going?”

“To get your present,” I tell her.

She looks down at her sister. “What did you ask for?”

I walk with them into our apartment building and go up a set of stairs. At the top, I stop and take out a key. I open the door and let them walk inside, turning on the lights. “You asked for a home, right?” I ask the little girl.

She nods and grins.

I hold my hands out. “Santa said this was for you.”

It’s just a one-bedroom apartment, and it’s furnished sparsely, but it’s more than they’re used to.

“This is for us?” she asks.

I nod. “Santa said so.” I look at the older girl and I see a spark of hope in her eyes. “It’s yours for three months. Take some time and figure out where you want to go and what you want to be. It’s safe here, and it’s yours. You’ll have to share a room.”

She chokes out her next words. “I’m okay with that!” Then she hugs me. I try not to think about what she would have been doing tonight if Logan and I hadn’t bumped into her on that street corner, because I know there are so many more just like her that we can’t help. But we helped this one, and I love that we are in a position where we can help anyone. “Thank you,” she says softly by my ear.

I give her a key, and we lock up behind us. There’s already food in the fridge, and we have gift cards to give them for clothes and necessities that were donated by local businesses.

We go back to the shelter and she and her little sister eat again, and they stop and talk with some other people. She looks younger than she did before. There’s a spark in her eye and a spring to her step, and I can’t help but feel good about that.

I can’t feel anything but grateful today. Grateful and wholeheartedly in love with my life, with my husband, and with my daughter.

Logan winks at me from across the room. I have a special present for him later. I lay my hand on my belly and close my eyes. I just hope he loves it.

Reagan

I spent the entire evening in a room full of people, both men and women, and I didn’t have a panic attack or feel overwhelmed even once. It helped that Pete kept his eyes on me, and I knew his brothers would rally around me at the first sign of trouble, but I also like knowing that I can do this on my own. I can conquer my fears. I can take care of myself and the people I love.

I look down into Kennedy’s crib and watch her lips smack softly like she’s still sucking on a bottle. She’s on her back and she’s all nice and warm in footed pajamas, since we can’t keep covers on her.

Pete stops in the doorway. He’s wearing a pair of red and green pajama bottoms and nothing else. He lifts his hands up to tag the doorframe and hangs there for a minute, his eyes sliding up and down my body. But then our cat, Ginger, starts to wrap herself up in his feet, weaving small circles while her kitty purrs rumble through the air. Pete picks her up so he can scratch beneath her chin. The purrs get louder.

I sit down in the rocker in Kennedy’s room and draw my legs under my T-shirt, because there’s a Christmas chill in the air. “Tonight was pretty wonderful, wasn’t it?” I say.

“Yes, it was.”

He sets Ginger down and comes to stand in front of me. He sinks to his knees on the soft carpet, pulls my legs down, and then spreads my knees wide so he can get between them. I lock my feet behind his back, and he stands up with me clutching him like a Velcro monkey. His hands knead my bottom, and I suddenly wish I didn’t have on panties, so he could just sink inside me.

Pete used to be so careful with me, but now it’s just me and him and everyday life, and he’s gotten over his fears of hurting me. Part of that is because I got over the fear of him hurting me, too. There was a little part of me that still flinched at times when he moved too quickly or startled me. I hated that it happened, even more than he did. But after Kennedy was born, all that fell by the wayside.

Pete is the man I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with. I know that. He knows that.

He lays me on the bed and stares down at me. Then he pulls my panties off and proceeds to rock my world, just like he always does.

When we’re both sated, he pulls me to lie on his shoulder, and I wrap my arms around him.

I fall asleep to the rhythm of the beat of his heart.

***

The next morning, we get up really early and go to Paul and Friday’s apartment, because all the little kids slept over there. They camped out in Hayley’s room in sleeping bags. We didn’t stay over because Kennedy is too young for Santa, but I look forward to the day when she can spend the night with her cousins and be excited, listening for the noises of Christmas.

No matter what, we want to be there before the kids wake up so we can see their faces. We don’t even get dressed. We go in our pajamas, and I know everyone else will be doing the same thing.

The lights are twinkling on the Christmas tree, and Paul and Friday have a pot of coffee on the counter. Pete pours a cup for me, and we stand around and talk quietly while all the adults find their way into the room. The kids aren’t far behind.

They’re like scurrying mice as they step past the doorway. Then they skid into the room on socked or slippered feet.

PJ is still too small to know what’s going on, just like Kennedy, but Matt’s kids, Kit, and Hayley are all over the gifts under the tree. Seth helps to sort them out and makes sure each kid gets the right gift, and we make them take turns opening them so we can be sure who gets what.