Cabin Fever With My First Flame (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

18. Finn

Chapter eighteen

Finn

The smell of bacon frying coaxes me from my slumber, as do the sounds of children laughing and Christmas music blaring from the stereo in the living room. I groan when I see it’s only a quarter past seven and much too early to be awake, but I get up anyway.

I didn’t fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning; Bailey’s look of disappointment consuming most of my thoughts. Was she disappointed that I was willing to break a promise or that I was being auctioned off in the first place? I pray it was the latter because if it was, then I have a shred of hope that she might want more than to be friends and that we might have a future together. I can work with that.

I brush my teeth and then slip on my robe, ready to greet the day ahead. As I walk down the hall, I start humming along with Jenny’s favorite Christmas CD by Home Free playing on the stereo. They’re an acapella group with perfect harmony, which is why I don’t sing along with them. I’d only ruin the vibe with my howling.

“Good morning!” I shout, startling everyone. Ava has her hand in the cookie jar—literally—and quickly snatches it back when she knows she’s been caught. I reach inside, grabbing one of the shortbread cookies to split it with her. I bend down and half-whisper, “Cookies make the best breakfast appetizers.”

Ella is directing Jonah, who is standing on a stool and cracking eggs into a bowl. She points at Ava, “Don’t let that sweet face fool you. She’s had three ‘appetizers’ already. I doubt Mom is going to be very happy about that.”

I scan the room and don’t see Bailey anywhere. “Speaking of your mom, where is she?”

Mia answers as she puts premade biscuits onto a baking sheet. “Sleeping. Ella said the smell of bacon would wake her up if the coffee didn’t.”

I reach for one of the pieces of bacon that Micah has sitting on a paper towel to absorb some of the excess grease. “It woke me up, and I think it smells delicious. Did you all plan on getting up early just to make breakfast?”

Isaac grins while he stirs a pitcher of orange juice concentrate. “We wanted to cook for you and Bailey. You always take care of us, and this morning, we wanted to take care of you! Do you like it?”

I wrap an arm around Isaac’s shoulders and squeeze. “I love it! I might have you guys cook every morning from here on out.”

Micah laughs. “Don’t push it! If Ella and Mia hadn’t shown us what to do, we’d be eating cereal for breakfast this morning.”

Bailey shuffles in, still half asleep, and makes a beeline for the coffee pot. She yawns as she reaches for a mug and begins pouring. It’s not until she takes her first sip that she notices it’s the kids who are cooking and not me. Bailey’s mouth drops open, and her eyes widen in shock. “Wow! What’s all this?”

Jonah stops what he’s doing, jumps off his stool and runs to give Bailey a hug. Mia, Isaac, and Ava join him. “It’s our Christmas present to you! Our mom used to say that ‘acts of service are the best presents in the world because they never break or get shoved in the back of a closet!’”

Bailey’s eyes become misty, and she smiles at each and every one of them. “This is the best present I could have gotten. Thank you!” She walks over to Micah and Ella, who are both continuing to cook. She hugs them both. “This is so wonderful!”

Ella winks, “This isn’t even the best part.”

It’s not until Ella and Micah plate our food and then take it into the dining room that I understand what she means. The table is set for two, with a large candle burning inside a glass jar and wine glasses from my cupboard. The plates are filled with fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, and hot biscuits with a whipped honey butter glaze.

Isaac follows us in with the pitcher of orange juice made from concentrate and pours a glass for us both, spilling a few droplets on the table as he does. He uses the hem of his shirt to wipe it up. “See, Finn! I even cleaned up for you!”

Bailey and I are both giggling when Mia, Jonah, and Ava come in carrying the small portable CD player from the living room. Mia plugs it in while Jonah puts in a CD, most likely from Jenny’s Christmas collection. They let Ava contribute by pressing the play button, who gives us two thumbs up and then runs out of the room.

Micah bows and sets a small bell on the table. Using what I presume to be a British accent, he says, “If you need anything, just ring the bell, and one of us will take care of you. Enjoy. Please ring the bell twice when you are finished.”

The song “What Child Is This?” plays softly in the background, and Bailey closes her eyes. “This is one of my favorite Christmas songs. Is the ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ still your favorite?”

“It is. Why don’t we pray before the food gets cold? I’d hate for all their hard work to go to waste.” I reach for Bailey’s hand and can’t help but appreciate how her delicate fingers fit into mine as if God made her just for me. When I’d embrace her, her head would fit perfectly underneath my chin, and my arms would fully encompass her small frame.

I clear my throat and my thoughts. “Dear Heavenly Father, we thank You for six amazing children who understand what the Christmas spirit is all about. It’s about recognizing the greatest gift of all—Your Son, whom You sent as a sacrifice on our behalf. We thank You for this food, but more importantly, for the hands that prepared it. In your name, Amen.”

Bailey echoes the Amen and then picks up her fork to take a bite of eggs. She puts a hand to her mouth and gasps.

“What? Is it that bad?” I ask.

“No! It’s that good! Finn, you have to try these! It’s the perfect balance of cream, pepper, and salt. They even added some Italian seasoning.”

I take a bite and relish the flavor. Putting on airs, I use a hoity-toity accent, which doesn’t sound any better than the not-so-British accent Micah had used, “Dare, I say it? These are the best eggs I’ve ever tasted! I think there’s a secret ingredient hidden inside!”

There are a few giggles on the other side of the French doors that separate the dining room from the rest of the house. Ava shouts, “It’s because they were made with love!”

“Yes! That’s it!” Bailey exclaims. “I thought I tasted a hint of love mixed in.”

Eventually, the children leave us alone, and I expect the conversation to be stilted. It isn’t. Bailey and I talk for nearly an hour about nothing and everything all at once.

Bailey rubs her tummy as if a mother is caressing her unborn child. “That meal was so good that now I have a food baby.”

I set down my fork and then wipe my mouth to hide my snort. “I’m sorry; what? What is a food baby?”

Bailey rubs her belly one more time. “It’s when you are so full your stomach sticks out, and it looks like you’re five months pregnant.”

I rub my belly just as she had. “Then I must be having twins.”

She giggles, and then her smile fades and becomes sweeter. “Our kids did an amazing job, and I get the feeling that they want us to be more than friends.”

“You do realize they aren’t actually my kids, right? They mean well and think that you’ll make me happy.”

Bailey reaches over and takes my hand. “Micah, Isaac, and Jonah may not be yours by birth, but make no mistake about it, Finn, they are your kids. You are now the father figure in their life, and until you get married, you have the honorary title of ‘mother figure’ as well. Although you’re their uncle, one day you’ll start referring to them as yours. Just wait and see.”

“And what’s your take on the ‘making me happy’ part?” I ask.

She sighs. “I spent years wondering what I would say to you when I came face-to-face with you again, Finn. Never, in a million years, did I think that we could get along after all the hurt feelings and pent-up resentment. I thought I would hate you and that you would hate me, even though I had no idea what I had done.”

She raises a hand to stop me from apologizing. “Please don’t say ‘I’m sorry.’ I know you are. But, Finn, you have treated me with nothing but respect and kindness even though you may have thought you had every right to do differently. It shows that you are still the sweet, kind-hearted man that I had fallen in love with so many years ago. Until a few days ago, you believed the worst of me and still took us in without a thought or care as to how it may impact you and your family. You were generous and thoughtful, as were Micah, Isaac, and Jonah.”

I squeeze her hand and go out on a limb, asking, “Is there a chance for us in the future?”

“Maybe,” she says, brutally honest. “‘Future’ being the operative word. The fact of the matter is that you did believe the worst of me. I want God, love, and trust to be the pinnacle of a relationship. It’s going to take time to rebuild the trust, Finn. A part of me will always love you because you were my first true love. That doesn’t ever go away. It only changes over time.”

“Maybe” is better than a flat-out “No,” so I simply dip my chin to acknowledge her words and ring the bell twice.

All six kids rush in and start clearing the table. Ella and Micah stay behind, standing with their hands behind their backs. Bailey looks at them with a raised eyebrow. “Are you waiting for a tip?” she asks jokingly.

Ella points up toward the ceiling, where a plant is haphazardly taped to it. “You are under the mistletoe. You can’t leave until you kiss. That’s the tradition.”

I stare at the dead plant. “That’s not mistletoe.”

Micah clears his throat. “Actually, it is. Ella and I found it in my mom’s scrapbook. That is the same mistletoe Grandpa and Grammy Hollister kissed under at an office Christmas party back in 1972. It was in that moment that they knew they were meant for one another.”

“But it’s dead!” Bailey says.

Ella grins. “The plant may be dead…”

“But my grandparents’ love is still alive,” Micah finishes.

Bailey clutches her heart in mock horror. “Oh, no! Finn, they’re already finishing each other’s sentences. Should we be worried?”

Micah glances at Ella and then shakes his head as if he’s dismissing an unwanted thought. “We rehearsed it, so don’t go getting any ideas!”

Ella sighs. “Just kiss and get it over with already!”

Bailey leans in and kisses the corner of my lip far too quickly for my liking and because we have an audience. “Done!”

I growl. “Not even close! You totally missed!”

I wrap my hand around Bailey’s waist and bring her close to my body. She gasps at the unexpected move, and I use the opportunity to mold my mouth to hers. My other hand slides around the back of her head and grasps the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head slightly. My tongue darts out to gently probe, even though my lips are firmly pressed against hers. When I feel the tip of her tongue tease mine, I deepen this kiss, pulling her body flush against mine so that no one would be able to tell where I end and she begins.

Bailey’s arms wrap around my neck, and the contented feeling of coming home permeates my body. But we do have an audience, so I dial it back and slow the kiss down, nipping at her lower lip the way she’s always loved. The woman I’ve been madly in love with since I was 15 has a look of pure bliss on her face, and her eyes are closed as if she’s been dreaming and doesn’t want to wake up. I never want to see that expression on her face for anyone other than me. I nip her lower lip one more time and then step back. I say the only thing I can think of in my Bailey-induced-stupor.

“And that’s how ‘friends’ kiss under the mistletoe.”