Offside Bride (Toronto Titans #2)

29. Sawyer

Three years later

Our house is a festive wonderland, with twinkling lights and the scent of pine from our massive Christmas tree, which twinkles in the corner. Ornaments glint like a festive disco ball, and there’s enough garland to sustain wildlife. I grin at the sight—it’s so over-the-top, just like Maggie.

We bickered over decorations (“No, we can’t have a life-sized Santa, Sawyer. It’s creepy!”), but Maggie won in the end. She always wins, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

She’s gone all out with the snacks tonight—there’s a whole spread of festive treats laid out on the coffee table. I spot assorted cookies, peppermint bark, and what looks like reindeer-shaped cheese balls.

Maggie spent all day making a gingerbread village that looks too good to eat, complete with little candy cane streetlamps and frosting snow. I’m half tempted to sneak a roof tile when no one’s looking. And don’t even get me started on the hot cocoa situation. There are enough steaming cups to drown Santa and all his elves, with marshmallows piled so high they’re practically skyscrapers. Leave it to Mags to turn our house into the North Pole’s coziest hangout.

The living room is packed with our friends, all eagerly awaiting the premiere of Maggie’s Christmas movie on the Yuletide Channel. This is her first book to movie adaptation. I guess Touchdown for Love was too scandalous for the networks.

“Everyone ready?” Maggie calls out, practically vibrating with excitement. “ The Snowflake Serenade is about to start!”

A chorus of excited “Yes!” echoes back.

“Joy to the squirrels!” Otto proclaims indignantly.

Emily groans from her perch on the armchair. “I still can’t believe they changed the title from ‘ Jingle Bell Rock Bottom .’”

“That’s just a film industry thing,” Maggie says. “They do that all the time.”

Jessica waddles in, her pregnant belly leading the way. I swear, that woman is perpetually preggo. “Did I miss anything? This baby is using my bladder as a trampoline.”

“Just in time,” Patricia chirps, patting the spot next to her. “Robert, be a dear and pass Jessica some of those divine peppermint brownies.”

“Right away, love,” Robert says, happy to have an excuse to get another for himself.

“Where's Mike?” Owen asks, mouth full of cookie.

“Home with the rugrats,” Jessica sighs. “The babysitter came down with something. Mike drew the short straw.”

“I hope he’s watching at home,” I say even though I find it highly unlikely. With four kids under five years old, he’s in for a rough night.

Maggie and I just have the one, who’s upstairs with the au pair, probably being a complete menace. She’s a handful, just like her mother, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting more. In fact, I plan on rectifying that very soon. I wonder how fast I can get these people out of my house when the movie’s over.

I settle on the sofa with Maggie when my phone buzzes. Siobhan’s face pops up on the screen.

“Hold up, everyone! It’s the world traveler calling in,” I announce, answering the phone.

“Hey, sis! Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s the middle of the night there.”

“Who needs sleep when your sister-in-law’s movie is premiering?” Siobhan’s voice crackles from the international call. “Put me on speakerphone!”

I oblige, and Maggie leans in close. “Siobhan! You didn’t have to stay up for this!”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Well, I mean, I am missing it because Greece doesn’t get the Yuletide Channel, but you know what I mean.”

Siobhan’s a regular globetrotter these days, ever since she went on her own wild adventures, cracking codes while single-handedly ending mafia wars. The string of numbers Otto wouldn’t shut up about was just the beginning. But that’s another story for another day.

“Ho ho ho, Merry Sandwich!” Otto squawks from his perch, startling Jessica so badly she nearly upends her cocoa.

Siobhan laughs. “Is that Otto? I miss that bird.”

“Trust me, you don’t,” I mutter, earning a playful swat from Maggie.

“Don’t mind Otto,” Maggie laughs. “He’s feeling festive.”

As if on cue, Otto belts out, “Crack the balls, fa la la la la!”

“Maggie’s been teaching him Christmas carols,” I say. “It’s…a work in progress.”

Maggie beams, leaning close to the phone. “So…spill the tea, Siobhan! How’s Greece?”

“Absolutely magical,” Siobhan says airily. “Sun, sand, and way too many shots of ouzo. I’ll tell you all about it when we come to visit for New Year’s. But enough about me. Maggie, I’m so proud of you! Your first movie premier. That’s huge!”

Maggie blushes, and I plant a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Siobhan. I still can’t believe it’s happening.”

“Give me some eggnog!” Otto demands.

Maggie giggles. “No eggnog for you, mister. Remember what happened last year?”

I groan at the memory. “I’m still finding tinsel in weird places.”

Siobhan’s laughter echoes through the phone. “Well, it sounds like quite the party. Maggie, I’m so proud of you. Knock ’em dead with your movie…Well, maybe that was a poor choice of words. Anyway, I’ll be watching as soon as I can get my hands on it.”

“Thanks, Siobhan,” Maggie says warmly. “Enjoy your Mediterranean Christmas!”

As I hang up, Otto chimes in again. “Give me some eggnog!”

“Not a chance, buddy,” I say, wagging a reproachful finger at him.

“He’s going to get chatty the whole movie,” Maggie says. “We should take him to his downstairs playpen.”

“I’ll take him,” Owen offers, holding out his arm. Otto flutters to Owen and squawks all the way down the stairs.

Otto’s taken a shine to Owen and Emily ever since they bird-sat for us when I treated Maggie to a real honeymoon a couple years ago. She came back pregnant, so I’d say it was a success.

Note to self: Take Maggie on a honeymoon once a year.

“Maggie, your bearded dragon is trying to get on the coffee table,” Patricia says, slightly horrified he might get into the snacks.

Maggie scoops him up and pets his little head. “Trevor likes to watch TV from the coffee table,” she says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“You named your bearded dragon Trevor?” Robert questions. Patricia pats him on the knee.

Maggie makes kissy lips at Trevor. “You’re just looking for your tiny couch, aren’t you, Trevor?” she says like she’s talking to a toddler, then gently places him in his aquarium.

Yes, Trevor has his own reptile-sized sofa. It looks just like our regular-sized sofas, but much, much smaller. Maggie likes to keep it on the coffee table so Trevor can watch his favorite shows while lounging like he’s had a hard day at work and just wants to relax and drink beer. Today, I made sure to put Trevor’s couch away, then disinfected the coffee table three times before draping a cloth over it. I love our crazy little zoo, but we can’t have our animals making messes while company is over.

Finally, the top of the hour has come, and we all get comfortable as the Yuletide Channel’s holiday lineup teasers start. Then we’re assaulted by a barrage of commercials. I feel Maggie tense up beside me, her excitement palpable. I give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Relax, Magpie,” I whisper in her ear. “Your movie’s gonna knock their socks off.”

She turns to me with a grin. “You’re just saying that because you have to.”

“Nah, I’m saying it because it’s true. And because I love you.”

“Aww, you’re such a cinnamon roll,” she teases.

Suddenly, the room erupts in cheers and whistles when they see me on the TV screen, decked out in Velocity Gear, skating across a pristine ice rink.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Emily exclaims. “It’s Sawyer!”

“Surprise,” I say, beaming at her reaction. “I made sure Bruce worked a clause into my contract with Velocity Gear. Ad placement on the Yuletide Channel whenever they air your movie.”

“You sneaky devil!” she gasps. “But when did you film this?”

“Remember that ‘team bonding retreat’ last month?”

She narrows her eyes. “The one where you came back with a mysterious bruise on your?—”

“Shh!” I quickly interject, glancing at our guests. “Let’s just say the director had some…interesting ideas.”

The room erupts in laughter as on-screen me attempts to gracefully slide across an ice rink while extolling the virtues of Velocity Gear’s new ‘friction-free’ fabric.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t go well.

“Is that why you were walking funny for a week?” Owen snickers.

I shoot him a hard glare.

The commercial continues, showing me getting up with a sheepish grin then zooming in on the Velocity Gear logo. “For when you need to bounce back fast,” my on-screen self says with a wink.

“Well,” Patricia says, dabbing at her eyes, “that was certainly…memorable.”

“That’s one word for it,” Maggie says, guffawing with laughter. “Sawyer, this is the best thing ever.”

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, giving her a soft kiss.”

As the commercial ends, the announcer’s voice booms through our living room: “Yuletide Channel presents, The Snowflake Serenade .”

Jaunty Christmas music fills the air as the title text ‘ The Snowflake Serenade ’ appears over a sweeping shot of a picturesque, small town. It’s like someone took every Christmas cliché and cranked it up to eleven.

The camera pans over a quaint main street lined with twinkling lights and evergreen garlands. Charming storefronts with hand-painted signs advertise hot cocoa and homemade pies, their windows frosted and adorned with festive displays. A massive Christmas tree dominates the town square, surrounded by ice skaters twirling on a makeshift rink. Horse-drawn carriages clip-clop down streets lined with lamp posts wrapped in red bows. It’s so idyllic, I half expect little elves to appear.

I snort. “Did they raid Santa’s workshop for this set?”

Maggie elbows me playfully. “Hush, you.”

Owen suddenly sits up straight, pointing at the TV. “Hey, doesn’t that look just Hendrix’s hometown?”

Maggie nods, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Good eye, Owen. We actually filmed there.”

“No way!” Emily exclaims. “Did Hendrix know?”

“Oh, he knew,” I chuckle, remembering our teammate’s reaction. “Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled about his ‘quaint little hometown’ being invaded by film crews.”

“I still can’t believe they turned Hendrix’s favorite bar into a gingerbread bakery for the shoot.” Maggie giggles. “He nearly had an aneurysm when he saw it.”

“Well, I think it’s just lovely,” Patricia says, clapping her hands together. “We simply must go there.”

Robert just grunts.

“Best to visit in the summer,” Jessica suggests. “The boat ride through the little islands is so peaceful. You can get the best ice cream on the docks. And there’s golf.”

The word ‘golf’ piques Robert’s interest. “Well, then. We’ll make a weekend of it.”

Patricia seems pleased with the prospect.

The movie is exactly what you’d expect from a made-for-TV Christmas flick—there’s a gazebo, fake snow dusting the streets, and impossibly attractive people bundled up in cozy sweaters.

“Ten bucks says there's a misunderstanding that could be cleared up with one conversation,” Owen whispers to Robert.

Robert takes out a wad of cash. “Make it fifty.”

Emily shushes them both playfully. “Shh, you. No spoilers.”

“Seventy-five,” I add, just as a perky blonde lead in a red scarf is about to bump into the ruggedly handsome stranger in a green scarf, who’s undoubtedly her soulmate.

Maggie gives me the side-eye. “You read the book. Not fair. Plus, you’re all wrong.”

“I can’t believe they cast Brad Michael Michaels as the love interest,” Emily chirps to Maggie. “He’s like in every Yuletide Channel movie.”

Maggie sighs. “He’s so dreamy.”

I huff. “Dreamy? Please. The guy’s got all the charisma of a hockey puck.”

Maggie elbows me playfully. “Jealous much?”

“Of that cardboard cutout? Never.” I pull her closer, nuzzling her neck.

My lips brush her ear as I whisper, “Your body is my ice rink, and I’m about to score a hat trick.”

Maggie snorts so hard she nearly chokes on her hot chocolate. “Sawyer O’Malley, did you just quote Slapshot Boyfriend at me?”

“Maybe.” I grin, waggling my eyebrows. “Is it working?”

“Oh my gaawwd,” she groans. “You are officially banned from reading my works in progress.”

"What can I say? Your words inspire me,” I tease, pulling her so close, she’s practically on my lap. “Though I still think Pucked in the Penalty Box had better one-liners.”

Maggie swats at me but I catch the flush creeping up her neck. “Shhh. Quiet.”

“Only if you promise to show me some of those…penalty box moves later,” I whisper huskily.

Maggie blushes furiously. “Sawyer!”

“I’m just trying to get into the holiday spirit,” I say. “After all, isn’t that what your books are all about? Spreading joy and…other things?”

She grins, despite the elbow jabs she’s inflicting on me. “Something like that. Now unless you’re a prince who is actually Santa Claus, will you please shut up and watch the movie?”

“Whatever you wish, Mrs. O’Malley,” I say, admiring how the Christmas lights cast a soft halo on her hair. “I’ll do anything…anything you desire until I breathe my very last breath.