Dylan (Dark Legacy #4) - Jaymin Eve Page 0,103
people. At least they’d be here tomorrow.
“Gotta keep my sweater on for her,” Evan said proudly, puffing his chest out.
I laughed again, pulling the door open further to allow the others entrance. Dylan had been the one to insist that we host Christmas this year for our little Willow. On our baby bird’s first Christmas, we wanted all of our family here.
Watching Dylan with our daughter would’ve made me fall madly, deeply, and completely in love with the man, if I hadn’t already loved him with every fiber of my being. He was the sort of father I had only dreamed of existing, loving on both of us until I almost couldn’t remember the sad, pathetic life I’d lived not even two years ago.
Thank fuck.
“Brooke!” Riley exclaimed, bursting through the entrance and throwing her arms around me. “Missed you, sister-in-law. Now where the fuc—frack is my little niece.” She glared at me, like I was deliberately keeping “her Willow” away—which was almost as amusing as her attempts to clean her language up when she was around the baby.
Beck distracted her by walking into the room, his face set in resigned lines and a very fluffy red-gold-and-green sweater stretched across his biceps as he tried to balance about seven armfuls of presents. “You could have made two trips from the car,” Riley said, exasperated. “Or let me help.”
Beck glared daggers at her. “Over my dead fucking body, Riley Beckett. You will be carrying nothing for the next eight months, so help me god. I will shoot anyone who makes you lift a finger.”
She smiled at him like he wasn’t a complete psychopath, and honestly, I got it. Dylan was the same, and while it might be a touch over the top, for them, it was how they loved. And I’d never felt so much love.
Riley shook her head, muttering something about driving her insane for the next eight months as she linked her arm through mine and dragged me off into the main living area, where we had the majority of tonight's event set up. It was Christmas Eve, and we were starting a new tradition that was going to carry on into our kids’ lives—kids that Riley and Beck were adding to the group in just eight or so short months.
Another baby for them to obsessively love on, and I couldn’t wait.
Dylan was the first thing I saw when we entered the room. He stood before the massive Christmas tree, holding our baby in his arms and talking softly to her as he swayed in time to the flashing lights and carols. A fire burned bright in the fireplace to the side of him, and it was such a picture perfect scene I almost wanted to pinch myself to assure I was awake and hadn’t fallen into a happiness coma for the last year.
If I had, I sure as fuck—or frack, as Riley was adopting—wouldn’t want to wake up.
Dylan’s eyes were warm when they met mine, and there was a promise of lots of loving in my future. Willow was basically sleeping through the night now, and even though we both fought the urge to wake her up and stare into those perfect green eyes—just like her daddy’s—we were quite happy keeping ourselves busy during the nighttime.
But first, we were going to do this Christmas thing.
“Dylan!” Riley exclaimed, and the pair hugged like it had been much longer than three days since she’d barged in to steal our kid. The only one worse than Riley was Evan, who, for some reason, was baby obsessed.
When they pulled apart, somehow Willow was in Riley’s arms. “How’s my most perfect, favorite niece?” she cooed, and the little one patted her favorite aunt on the cheek.
Our daughter was the perfect mix of Dylan and me, with her blond curls and brown skin teamed with big green eyes and the perfect button nose. Dylan and Beck were already working out defense systems against any of the poor, unsuspecting males who entered her life.
That scene from the movie Bad Boys, when they interrogated that poor, lanky dude, would seem like a greeting from the fucking queen in comparison to what these morons were planning. I might have to pull out Mary’s old super suit to sneak my daughter out so she could have some semblance of a social life.
Something to worry about later.
For now, I was feeling pretty damn blessed that she had so much love and protection in her life.
The rest of us hadn't grown up that way, but we would ensure the next generation was gifted the peace we’d all deserved.
“Hey, baby,” Dylan whispered, wrapping his arm around me. “I missed you.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek and then my neck, and as he drew me right up tight into his arms, I let out a sigh.
“I like Christmas,” I murmured.
He laughed. “I like you. And our baby. Let’s make another.”
It was my turn to laugh. “How about we give my vagina a few more months to recover before you insist on me pushing out another rug rat.” As much as I loved and adored my daughter, I was perfectly content with one, for the time being.
Dylan pouted, those full lips of his drawing me in, and I all but climbed his body to kiss him like it was the only thing keeping me alive. The rest of the room was distracted by our daughter and Mary’s cookies, and pretty soon her dinner would be ready. She didn’t work for us, of course, but the lady was stubborn in her insistence that she would cook for the holidays. And none of us would argue about eating her food.
Mary’s food was better than any Michelin-star restaurant’s, and thanks to Dylan, I’d eaten at more than my fair share now.
I pressed my head against his hard, ugly-Christmas-sweater-covered chest, and he wrapped me up tight and rocked me against him. It was this stupid fucking thing parents did, the constant rocking, but I got it. It was soothing and amazing, and right now, wrapped up in this perfect house with my perfect guy and all the family, I started thanking every god in the world that my life had turned out this way.
It was nothing like I’d expected. Nothing at all.
It was a million times better.
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