A Celebration Christmas

“Here—never mind.” Cullen held out his hand for the phone. After Lily gave it to him, he shoved it into his pants pocket as if the action could undo Lily having read the message, which was bound to be graphic, knowing Giselle.

He felt like a letch for having subjected her to it. Of course, if he’d known Giselle would pick that precise moment to offer a preview of coming attractions, he wouldn’t have asked Lily to pick up the text. In fact, he’d been so busy since the kids arrived that he’d completely forgotten he was supposed to see her.

Was that tonight?

He couldn’t bring a woman like her around while Lily and the kids were here. Before he’d taken the kids into his home, he hadn’t realized all the ways they might change his life. When had he ever recoiled from a spicy Giselle text or passed up a chance to see her? But given the circumstances, he didn’t have a choice but to decline.

“Does your finger feel better, Hannah?” he asked after he’d slathered it with antibiotic ointment and applied a bandage.

She nodded through a one-shoulder shrug. “Sort of. It would feel much better if I had a princess bandage.”

Lily took the little girl down from the vanity, held her good hand and led her out of the bathroom without looking at Cullen. “The next time I go to the store, I’ll make sure to get some princess bandages. A princess should always have a special bandage. You’re very brave to wear the ordinary one for now.”

Cullen stood alone for a moment, listening as their conversation grew faint. He certainly hadn’t thought taking in the kids would throw him into a crisis of conscience. After all, he was single. He and the women he dated were consenting adults and very clear about the no-strings-attached nature of their relationships. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

So why did it feel as though he was?

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that it wouldn’t be this way forever. The kids would be living with him only until the end of December. Then he could resume life as he knew it.

* * *

Nothing said let’s be friends like a big stack of homemade pancakes. After Cullen made his awkward exit, Lily did her best to put the racy contents of the text she wished she’d never read out of her mind.

It wasn’t easy to erase the image of Cullen doing the things Giselle had so graphically described in her message. The only problem was her brain kept imagining Cullen doing those things to her.

Lily wasn’t a prude—she’d been engaged and had enjoyed a healthy relationship with her fiancé before everything turned south—but those thoughts were so inappropriate when she was supposed to have her mind on the kids. For God’s sake, the thoughts were inappropriate even if she wasn’t watching the kids. Cullen Dunlevy was her boss. And even as progressive and open-minded as she fancied herself, she certainly was no Giselle.

She forced the thoughts out of her mind—or at least relegated them to the very back, dark corners of her overactive imagination—and fired up the griddle she’d brought with her. She made cheerful small talk with the kids as she mixed up a batch of pancake batter for them.

She let them flip their own, which the girls loved. George, however, was less than impressed. He slumped on a bar stool at the kitchen island, kept his head down and his attention on his handheld video game while the three girls enjoyed their breakfast and chatted among themselves.

“Come on, George. Will you please put down the game for five minutes so you can make your pancakes?” Lily cajoled. “It’ll be fun.”

George didn’t answer.

“Just five minutes, George, please? That’s all it will take.”

Nothing.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Lily said. “If you’ll make your pancakes, I’ll let you lick the bowl when we make sugar cookies after breakfast.”

George looked up, his eyes glossy with irritation. “Doesn’t Uncle Cullen pay you to make my breakfast?”

Lily’s eyes widened at the boy’s cheeky response. She walked around to the same side of the island where George was sitting, pulled out the bar stool next to him and sat down.

“Your uncle Cullen pays me to look after you.” She took care to keep her voice even and soft. She was used to dealing with the occasional conflict like this in the classroom, but George’s attitude grew from a place of hurt. The boy probably felt angry and displaced after losing his parents and the adoptive parents who had agreed to take in his sisters and him. He was in limbo and unsure where they would end up, much less if he and his sisters would be able to stay together. Of course, Cullen said keeping the kids together was his goal, but Lily couldn’t help wondering how realistic it was, especially given that he was intent on finding them a place by the end of the year.

The boy had returned his attention to his video game, his thumbs stabbing angrily at the buttons on the device. What George needed more than a battle of wills over pancakes was some compassion and understanding.

Lily stood. “Okay, if you don’t want pancakes for breakfast, you can have milk and cereal. Help yourself.”

George didn’t respond. He simply poured himself a bowl of oat cereal, skipping the milk. He took his breakfast and his game and headed into the other room.

“George, don’t you want to help bake cookies?” Lily asked, giving it one more try.

George turned around and glared at her. “No.” He started to walk away.

“Then what would you like to do?” Lily asked. “I don’t think your uncle Cullen wants you spending your entire Christmas break playing video games.”

He leveled her with a blank stare.

“I could get you some books if you’d like to read.”

He grabbed a handful of cereal and shoved it into his mouth.

“Or if you don’t want to read, tell me some of the things that you enjoy doing—besides video games.”

“Not baking,” he said. “Baking is for girls.”

She thought about telling him that some men were pastry chefs and they were actually quite famous for it, but she knew there was no sense in trying to win him over.

“On the radio this morning, I heard about a boys’ basketball camp that’s going on during the holidays over at the community center,” Lily said. “Would that interest you?”

His expression changed. It wasn’t quite what you’d call agreeable, but it was a far cry from the defiant make-me face he’d worn just a minute ago.

“If you’d like, I can talk to your uncle Cullen about getting you signed up for it.”

He nodded, then turned and disappeared into the next room with his cereal and game.

When the girls were finished with their breakfast, Lily put Hannah and Bridget to work measuring flour into large bowls. She had Megan creaming butter and sugar together. Her plan for the day was to have the kids make and decorate Christmas sugar cookies. She also wanted to teach them how to make a Christmas bread called stollen, a confection filled with dried fruits and marzipan.

“A long time ago, in Germany,” she said, “they used to make a huge loaf of special Christmas bread called stollen. It had all kinds of fruits and spices and a special filling. It weighed tons and it was big enough to share with everyone in the city. They’d bring it out and feed everyone.”

Megan was squinting at her. “They ate stolen bread? Who did they steal it from?”

“No, it wasn’t stolen, as in illegally taken from someone,” Lily said. “It’s called stollen. It sounds the same, but it’s completely legal. Believe me, I wouldn’t teach you about anything illegal.”

“How big was it?” Megan asked, still looking as if she wasn’t buying the story.

“What?” Lily asked.

“You said the stollen bread loaf was big enough to feed the entire city,” she said incredulously. “How big is that?”

“This big?” Hannah hopped off the bar stool and held out her arms wide.

“Oh, much bigger than that,” Lily said, winking and playfully waving her off.

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