Santa’s Pucking Hat Trick (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

27. Sawyer

27

SAWYER

“ C ome on, ref! Get your head out of your ass!” my dad, Roger Finnegan, yelled at the football game on the TV.

“Watch your mouth!” my mom snapped from the doorway, holding a turkey baster like a weapon. “You know we’re not swearing in front of the grandkids!”

“I’ve heard ‘ass’ before,” my niece Jaz said, rolling her dark brown eyes. “We go to public school, Memaw.”

“Jasmine Joy Finnegan, you know better,” my very pregnant sister-in-law, Laney, scolded in a much lower, deadlier tone than Matriarch Fiona Finnegan had used. Since my oldest brother, Cameron, was out on a holiday-themed charity run, and because he was much more the fun kind of dad anyway, Laney had to be the disciplinarian. It worked for them. Jaz looked appropriately cowed by just the one sentence, and she turned back to the game of Scrabble she was playing with her older brother, Rudy.

“I wish these fuc— frickin’ refs would realize it’s Thanksgiving,” Dad grumbled as a commercial break aired. “They should know we all want a better game. It’s the holidays, for Christ’s sake.”

Mom must have been too occupied with basting the turkey to hear him take the Lord’s name in vain, or else she would have been shrieking at him again.

“Not sure that’s how it works, Pop,” my slightly younger Irish twin, Shane, piped up with a smirk that was similar to my own. He was the only one of my siblings who also had our mom’s red hair, though his was more the fiery shade versus my brown-tinged deeper one, and he had a heavy smattering of freckles to go along with it. His fiancé, Julio, snickered quietly next to him on the sectional.

“When’s dinner, Mom?” Patrick called from the far end of the living room. The impatience was typical, since he was the baby—home for his college Thanksgiving break. “I think Deepti is hungry.”

“I’m happy to wait as long as it takes, Mrs. Finnegan,” Deepti hurried to say. She seemed like a sweet girl, and despite Mom’s reservations about Patrick bringing her home so soon, she was fitting in well. My niece and nephew already liked her and had roped her into their board game.

Soon enough, dinner was finally ready, and we all gathered around the long dining table, a spread of Thanksgiving dishes laid out before us. Mom had insisted on saying grace, which meant the kids had to sit still for about thirty seconds—something Jaz wasn’t very good at. I couldn’t help but chuckle watching her attempt the sign of the cross, and then my smile turned to one of tenderness as her brother showed her how to do it properly.

The clatter of plates and forks filled the air as we dug into the meal, the familiar hum of family conversation floating around the table. Mom asked Deepti a hundred questions about her studies, Dad complained loudly about how his favorite sports teams were doing this season regardless of each team’s actual record, and Shane and Julio bickered good-naturedly over which Christmas tree farm they were going to visit next weekend. For the most part, I kept quiet, though I made sure to do my requisite spiel about the upcoming Christmas classic game the Skatin’ Santas would be playing. It was the kind of holiday dinner we’d had a hundred times before, and yet, as I looked around at my brothers with their partners—Laney glowing beside Cameron, Patrick squeezing Deepti’s hand under the table—it hit me.

For the first time in years, I felt like something was missing. And that something wasn’t just about having a partner. It was about Rachel.

I shook off the thought, focusing on the conversation around me, when Laney piped up, “Cameron and I are thinking about taking a baby moon before the little one arrives. Somewhere warm. Maybe Fiji.”

Without thinking, I found myself saying, “Alicia went to Fiji for her honeymoon with her new husband. It looked nice in the photos.”

The room went quiet. The clatter of silverware, the chatter, even Jaz’s constant questions—everything stopped.

I didn’t look up right away, just kept my eyes on my plate like mentioning my ex-wife’s name was no big deal. But in context, it was a big deal. Massive. I hadn’t talked about Alicia in front of my family since the divorce, had barely been able to stand someone else mentioning her name in passing. And now, here I was, casually bringing her up like she was just some distant memory.

Which, I realized, she was. Fucking finally.

I shrugged, finally glancing up to see my family staring at me. Even Dad, who normally couldn’t be bothered with anything that wasn’t sports or food, looked surprised.

“I’m just saying I think you’d have a nice time,” I explained, shoveling another forkful of stuffing into my mouth as if to punctuate the sentence.

The moment hung in the air for a beat longer than it should have, but no one said anything. Not about Alicia, at least. Mom cleared her throat, and just like that, the conversation picked up again, everyone shifting back to safe, familiar topics.

But I wasn’t really listening. Not to them, anyway. I was too busy processing what I’d just said—and more importantly, how I felt about it.

The truth was, it didn’t hurt to talk about Alicia anymore. There was no sting, no lingering bitterness. Just a passing, almost indifferent thought about her new life, her new husband, and their perfect tropical honeymoon. The same trip we’d once talked about taking together, back when we were married.

Nothing. Even that thought, once a painful punch in the gut, was just a neutral statement to me now.

I glanced down the table at my family—at Laney and Cameron whispering to each other about baby names, at Shane and Julio laughing about some inside joke, at Patrick grinning as Deepti shyly offered to help clear the dishes—and then, unbidden, I pictured Rachel sitting next to me. Not just as some casual fling, not as someone I’d be walking away from at the end of the season, but as part of this.

Part of my family.

It was more than just wanting her there. I could see it—the future I hadn’t allowed myself to think about since my marriage ended. I could picture her at this table, fitting in with the chaos, tossing back snarky comments at my brothers, laughing with Julio about how ridiculous it all was. Hell, I could even imagine her pregnant, her sharp edges softened just a little, glowing like Laney was now.

And for the first time in years, that image didn’t scare me. I didn’t meet it with the internal rebuke, You’ll never have that.

I looked down at my plate, feeling the weight of that realization settle over me. The truth was, Rachel had changed something in me, something I hadn’t even realized was broken. I’d spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, afraid to let anyone in after Alicia, afraid of getting hurt again. But with Rachel, it was different. She wasn’t a rebound or a distraction. She was…something more.

I didn’t know when it had happened. Maybe it was that first kiss at the rink, or maybe it was the way she challenged me, made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t in years. Whatever it was, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I wasn’t just over Alicia. I was ready for something new. Something real.

With none other than Rachel Henning. And hell, the other two goobers I called friends too.

The conversation around me drifted on, but I barely heard it. I was too busy thinking about her. Living, at least in my head, in the future I was finally ready to build.