Dad Bods and Blizzards (Dad Bod Christmas #1)

14. Fourteen

Fourteen

Naomi

Standing beside the window where we’ve piled up our modest Christmas presents for each other, I ask the guys to sit on the living room floor while I play Santa.

The vibrant wrapping paper adds color to the otherwise still-sparse cabin.

We’ve been waiting on a decision from the government to find out if the guys can buy the cabin or if we’ll have to move, but the two weeks leading into Christmas, is not the time to ask the bureaucrats to make decisions quickly.

And since I couldn’t be without a Christmas tree, we decided to decorate one of the blue spruces outside of the window where I had sex with Tubs.

I moved in after a sketchy couple of days where the guys hid me, worked tirelessly to clear my name, and risked their own jail time to ensure I never saw the inside of a prison.

The colorful glow of the Christmas lights comes through the window, amplified by the snow. The fire crackles while I distribute the presents. It’s perfect.

Almost.

I’m still coming to grips with how my father made money, and how oblivious I was. The bits of evidence I’ve been allowed to see are shocking. I can’t thank these three cuddly guys enough for going out of their way to prove that I’m innocent. My role of passing the envelopes with meeting locations and cash was done with the trust of a child obeying a parent.

I shudder at the thought of him involving me and putting me in danger, yet it’s still hard to wrap my mind around him getting arrested. But it’s the history he chose to write.

I prefer the history I wrote for myself, and pull my thoughts back to the joyous day.

“You have to open them at the same time,” I say while handing a box to each of them, then joining them on the rug.

Paper tears and three identical boxes reveal hand-painted mugs. Griz traces his finger over the cursive Griz on one side before turning it to find Otto . I included a silhouette of a lamb and a wolf.

“Little Lamb.” His voice is rough. “No one’s ever made a present for me.”

“Princess…” Ulysses, still Tubs to me, clutches his custom mug that includes paintings of two crowns. He’s unofficially my prince or king or whatever.

Woody studies his mug. “I love it.”

I included both of his names, Woody and Ryan, plus a nightingale perched on a sturdy branch.

The men swap mugs, and comments are exchanged about the nickname representations.

Griz and Tubs don’t seem to understand the image I painted on Woody’s. Does he get it?

“You don’t see it?” he questions them.

“I’m a wolf. Tubs is a crown. You’re… not there.”

“I am.” Woody taps the branch. “That’s me, Woody… wood… a branch… always a safe place for my nightingale to land.”

The other two glance at me for confirmation. I’m so happy he understood. “He’s absolutely right.”

Now it’s my turn. They share their presents with me. I’m sure it’s going to be a bunch of pregnancy or baby stuff since they’re over the moon that I’m knocked up.

Inside the first box, I find a simple kit to make my own photo keychains.

The next box has resin molds and metal jewelry findings for more complex keychains.

The third box has acrylic blanks and a rainbow of beads to make even more keychains.

I hadn’t even given it a second thought, but while they had me under surveillance, they’d seen me searching how to make keychains. When they asked me about it, I mentioned that I wanted to start a business making keychains. They listened, and they’re helping make my dream come true.

I tell them how grateful I am, and after sliding all of the Christmas presents out of the way, we end up in a tangle of bodies, the fire on one side, the decorated tree outside the window, and another blizzard setting in.

“This is gonna be the best Christmas ever,” Tubs says.

“How do you know that?” I ask jokingly.

“Because we’re going to be trapped in here with you.”