“I do not like the phrase more important; therefore, I will say what I have to do is equally important.”

  “Which is?”

  “I would rather not say.”

  “Because it’s not actually important.”

  “I-”

  “Because it’s probably something super stupid like a buy one, get one designer tie sale?”

  “Do you know of one?” he cheekily jokes. “I can make time for that as well.”

  “Kellan.”

  “It is Christmas Eve, love, which makes verifying travel arrangements a tad more difficult than other times of the year.”

  “Travel arrangements?!” Irritation rushes into outrage. “Do not tell me you are making travel arrangements for work instead of spending time with your family!”

  “Actually, I am arranging them for my family rather than spending time with them.”

  “What?!”

  “I have to verify that everything is indeed set for tomorrow.”

  “Our living room where Santa delivers the presents has not changed.”

  “Yes; however, the flight plan for Highland has – among other things – so I need to be excused in order to handle a few last-minute details.”

  Disbelief has my red sweater dress body crumpling slightly forward on a whispered, “What?”

  “We will have Christmas at home. Swing by the palace to say a quick ‘Hello, Goodbye’ to Father like we’re the bloody Beatles-”

  “They were Brits. Not Docs.”

  “And then,” he helplessly smirks at my retort, “we are on a jet that should have us arriving just in time for holiday dinner at your parent’s home where I am told Candice has conceded all cooking to the Riesgrafs who will also be joining us.”

  “Candice gave up her cooking rights?!” Additional disbelief darts through my expression. “It really is the season of miracles…”

  “I will concur when I am offered proper applesauce with the roasted pork rather than sugar grains out of a jar.”

  “You are such a prude.”

  “And I hope to raise at least one of our children with similar feasting standards.” Our eyes glance over in tandem just in time to see Aliza stopping Kalum from licking a decorative popsicle stick. “Although, from this view, the odds do not seem to be in my favor.”

  Giggles precede a headshake that brings me back to reality. “While this is a…truly sweet…and loving…and valiant effort…”

  “You are welcomed to add more compliments to the list.” His hands slip into his winter green suit pockets. “I can always make a bit more time for my wife to flatter me – or do the other thing that begins with f.”

  “I do not have time to pack for six people or coordinate the packing for six people.”

  “Four,” he smoothly corrects.

  The quirked eyebrow he’s shot leads to him continuing.

  “Cliff is staying behind to care for Goldie and spend more time with Katherine.”

  Um…can we say swoooooon that they finally got together?!

  “I stay packed due to my abrupt and – at times – extensive travel schedule.”

  “You’re just gonna skip over the fact you don’t like the way anyone packs your ish but you?”

  “And all three of our minis,” Kellan states in a snarky fashion, “have been packed for courtesy of Lena who I arranged to swing by while we were gone for dinner and this.”

  It’s impossible to catch my mouth from cracking open.

  “She appreciated the unexpected financial bonus and surprise vacation days.”

  Do you blame her? I mean I love my kids – come on, they’re my kids – but I get it. When the orphanage is closed for a holiday – for the non-nurturing staff – and I suddenly get an extra day to not work, I fucking love it. Doesn’t everyone? Who in their right mind doesn’t want an extra day or days to themselves every once in a while?

  “This leaves only you to pack for.”

  Yet again, it feels impossible to speak.

  “You gave me what I needed this holiday season, love.” Kellan reaches his fingers across the space to connect to mine. “I am going to do the same.”

  Kellan

  While there are a number of burdens to being a member of the royal family, there are quite a few perks, the most important, of course, being the capability to make literal Christmas magic happen for the woman who makes magic happen for you daily. Really? Still swooning over me? Good. I approve.

  Warm chuckles are attached to Father answering my call, “Merry Christmas Eve, Kellan!”

  “Merry Christmas Eve,” I cautiously retort as Vincent changes lanes on the highway.

  “Mygod, these cranberry brie bites are bloody fantastic,” he coos into the phone between crunches.

  My wife not only begs to differ, she completely missed the adorable point I made of having the kitchen serve so many things that included her food namesake. I know! Brilliant, yes?

  “And if you top them with just a single jalapeño,” a moan floats through the receiver, “perfection.”

  “I will just have to take your word on that one.”

  “No need. I cannot save you any tonight – as the gents and I have just about finished them off – however I can always have someone in the kitchen make them at a later date.”

  “That was more in regard to your choice of garnish.” I shift slightly in my SUV seat alongside a teasing poke, “Dare I ask the identity of ‘the gents’ you are so openly sharing not only your appetizers with but your favorite aged bottle of Wilcox?”

  “Orellana – who owns the steakhouse where Fredrick and Elizabeth are currently providing hot meals for veterans and other homeless individuals in need – and Edgerton – who owns the panini food truck Brie and Guy frequent weekly. He joined us once he finished delivering sandwiches to some of the shelters that donations did not or could not reach.” Another smack occurs. “Oh! And the um…the trolly driver. Weick. The one from down south. He hosts history tours about Doctenn but also provides free transportation around the city for lower income families or individuals that are in need of service.”

  Veterans. All of them. Years ago, Father initially started by investing in Orellana’s restaurant; however, it did not take long for additional ventures to appear. It turns out Father has now found his own calling. Kristopher remains heavily involved in cancer research and expansion and cures and treatments, I, myself, am still quite dedicated to caring for the youth that has been unfortunately discarded or disregarded, and our father, has become dedicated to aiding those that once fought or protected or gave part of themselves for our great country. Campaigning and pushing for new laws that provided them with better assistance once their time served is complete is not as easy as one would think. It does not mean he is not trying. He is. It is just that…legal changes are slow; however, financially giving them the grace to begin again does not have to be. So, Father started an organization that filters business proposals from veterans and then offers small startup loans or full investments or arranges to help them properly acquire the funding from others to give their businesses ago. On top of that, when he comes across something he feels moved by, he invests directly. The men above are all proof of that. Honestly? I believe this is my mum’s doing. She was a woman all about what we could give back. How we could connect rather than remain above everyone else simply due to titles and aristocracy decrees. It seems as though we all wish to honor her by ensuring that in some way, shape, or form, we do exactly that. I think she would be proud. And this holiday? I think she would be prouder than ever. You saw what my wife accomplished. You saw how she insisted our focus be with family and community. Showing the world, we are human. Humans who are less about greed than you might believe and more concerned with what we are putting into the world instead of taking from it. Mum strived for so many of the same things Brie just decides to do and then does. I think they would get along swimmingly. And I try to let that warm my heart as opposed to dampen my soul.

  “You did not want me to save any of this poinsettia focaccia, correct?” What sounds like a bite is taken. “Because, to be frank, I do not believe I can. Edgerton started charring them over an open flame and saints make me a sinner because these roasted cherry tomatoes just might be better than sex.”

  “Food can never be better than sex, Father. Only comparable.”

  “Perhaps you might be dining at the wrong tables.”

  “Perhaps you might be sleeping in the wrong beds.”

  Although between you and me, I do not think he is sleeping in any. While I am not entirely certain he is leading a life of celibacy, I have high suspicions. And so does Kristopher. However, suggesting to our wives that we should arrange him any sort of companionship – particularly sexual – as a Christmas gift was a terrible idea. A terrible, terrible idea. Our guestroom mattress is much stiffer than I recall. I think Chen might truthfully do better sleeping on the playroom sofa.

  “And speaking of sleeping arrangements,” Father smoothly shifts lanes in tandem with Vincent doing the same on the road, “I take it everything went well Boonark; therefore, you will be resting beside your wife rather than elsewhere tonight?”

  “Yes, thankfully.” Light chortles are accompanied by me adjusting my jacket. “All travel has been officially logged. Weather – as of now – is predicted to be in our favor. Our Highland property should be prepared by our arrival and additional funds to cover the cost of our unsuspecting appearance properly transferred despite our in-laws objections.”

  “Jolly good then.”

  “I appreciate the aid you provided in arrangements and forgoing a beach golfing trip in order for us to have the jet.”

  “It is no bother,” Father brushes off. “I can go golfing any time.” He pauses as if exchanging smiles with me. “However, I am quite interested in exploring pickleball. Chen and Cliff say we have quite the grounds for it.”

  Some combination of a frown and sneer slip into my expression, yet I say, “Please refrain from experimenting until after we bid goodbye tomorrow.”

  “Of course. You are not permitted to see me have that much fun.”

  “Kenneth,” calls out of his mates, “stogs?!”

  “Bloodyhell, you gents know nothing goes better with whiskey than a good stog,” Father shouts back.

  “I see I am only permitted to hear it?” I tease between chuckles.

  “Not even that,” he playfully pokes. “Enjoy your night. I will see you and the rest of the family bright and early.”

  “And hungover?”

  “Shots will tell,” Father mirthfully replies before ending the call.

  You know, he still pushes and advocates for our happiness above his own, but I am grateful he has these moments for himself. He deserves the same content the rest of the family regularly receives.

  Our arrival at my estate occurs only seconds prior to another round of snow flurries beginning to fall. Vincent decides to crash in the guardhouse – which is always an option for him and the other security details assigned to us – yet needlessly verifies it’s alright to have a bit of company for the night.

  We’ve never said no. Hell, I do not think I ever could. His refusal to get married, to become steadily involved with any individual who might compromise his sworn duty, is admirable, but lonely. And no one should be lonely. Especially at the holidays.

  Post giving him the green light, I stroll into our home where I am not greeted by Goldie.

  Or the children.

  Or the unis.

  Or my wife.

  Huh. I know they are home. All vehicles are collecting snow as we speak. Besides, it is far past our little ones’ bedtime. Even for a family outing.

  Maneuvering my way over to the film room – that is on the opposite side of our home from the stairs – leads me to both the expected and unexpected. Upon my arrival, I push the cracked door open a bit further revealing Die Hard playing on the screen but not a single person actually watching it.

  On the main leather couch are Cliff and Katherine snogging – like the two newly established lovebirds they are – and on the other is Chen with a young woman I am fairly certain was volunteering with us at the hospital.

  What? No. I am not angry. I am not even bothered. They are young and in love – or in heat – and it’s Christmas. Getting warm or staying warm with or without Santa as your wingman is a bit expected. I just need to set a couple of boundaries for the foreseeable future. Hm? No. I do not think I need to mention not to have an orgy in our home.

  Dramatically clearing my throat not only successfully darts everyone apart, it shoots Cliff to his feet to less than innocently claim, “We were not…umm…” A tug to the collar of his Christmas themed t-shirt is taken. “It is not exactly uh…” Another cringe crosses his startled expression. “This is not…ah…” The mirthful quirking of my eyebrow causes his cheeks to harshly redden. “Hey, Dad…”

  “Hey, Mr. K!”

  “Chen.” He’s offered a polite nod of acknowledgement. “Miss.”

  “Laila,” the butter pecan skinned young woman quietly says on an energetic wave.

  “Katherine,” I kindly greet as well, not at all surprised at the cherry shade of her cheeks.

  “Hi, Kellan…”

  “Does your father know that you are here?”

  She immediately nods.

  “Is he aware the snow means you will be staying the night?”

  “That was…kind of…the plan…anyway,” my cousin uncomfortably mumbles pushing me to meet Cliff’s gaze once more.

  “The hallway.” My head motions in that direction. “Now.”

  “Yooooo!!!! Whaaaattt!” Chen croaks in excitement. “We’re really gonna have a white Christmas?!”

  Cliff climbs over the back of the couch rather than walking around at the same time he suggests, “See if the girls want popcorn or nog while I’m gone.”

  “You want me to make out with your girl?” he asks in utter confusion.

  “Nog,” I correct on my son’s behalf. “Not snog.”

  “Those are different?”

  “Nog is short for eggnog,” Katherine clarifies.

  “Americans are so daft, it is adorable,” Laila coos prior to us shutting the door with them on the other side.

  Sliding my hands into my pants pockets is followed by me quietly inquiring, “Is Mum aware that Katherine is staying the night?”

  “She is.”

  “Is she aware that the other young woman is?”

  “No; however, we were not expecting snow so…”

  A slow, understandable nod precedes further investigating, “Are you both prepared?”

  “Of course. Katherine will sleep in my room with me – I have plenty of extra blankets and pillows – and Laila will sleep in Chen’s room with him – unless she would prefer to sleep alone in the film room.”

  “Not what I was asking.”

  It takes him a minute before the actual question settles in. “Oh!”

  Forfuckssake, I pray I was quicker witted than this at his age.

  “Well?”

  “Dad just because we will be sleeping together does not mean we will be sleeping together.”

  “Your tongue measuring her tonsils indicates otherwise.” Crimson brazenly coats his complexion once more convincing me to add, “And you did not answer my question.” There’s no stopping my head from tilting in concern. “Are you and Chen both prepared?”

  A slight shuffle of his feet precedes a low murmured, “Yes.”

  “And you’re aware that no is a full sentence?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Chen?”

  “Also aware.”

  “Very well.” An impish grin grows on my face. “Be mindful of your siblings, yes? You or Chen wake them due to receiving your Christmas jollies and you or Chen will be the ones tending to them until it is Present O’Clock. Understood?”

  Cliff lightly laughs, “Understood.”

  What? Did you expect me to shame them? Demand they keep it in their pants? First, have we met? What part of me would ever give you that impression? Need I remind you when we first met, I was playing strip poker? And second, shaming those young and in love and developing a sense of who they are or what they want never ends well. That is how you get a rebel prince who constantly flees his country, shags his way across another, and nearly misses out on the love of his life because she cannot see past the indiscretions he was simply growing through. I do not want that for our oldest. Nor do I think that is where his future will end up. I am also aware there is a high probability it will happen in this house with or without our blessing, so I would rather it be with. At least then I am aware they are safe and being safe. I…I did not need to remind him that rubbers do expire, did I?

  Upstairs, I quietly verify that all three of my children are peacefully sleeping, and to no surprise, Goldie is camped out in the hallway between rooms in order to protect them from potential dangers.

  Kendall sleeps like her mum.

  Sprawled out.

  Covers barely covering her.

  Smushing a snuggly to death.

  For Brie it is a pillow unless one of our daughter’s stuffed animals has migrated into her possession.

  Kalum, on the other hand, is very neat.

  Tidy.

  His pillow has its place.

  His favorite train is parked beside his body.

  And his little hands lie folded gently beneath his cheek.

  Yes, he sleeps like a literal angel. And…he is always first up, yet refuses to make noise until someone else does.

  Killian momentarily stirs the instant I spot him half on his mattress and half on the floor.

  This is actually quite tame for our little hellion. Often we will find him sleeping basically anywhere else that is not his bed. He will sleep on his rug. Against the dresser. Once in his toy box. Twice underneath the window. Typically, he crawls into bed with Kalum and lays across his legs as though not touching him is unacceptable. I know. I know. However, there is only so much we can do regarding their co-dependency. We do spend time with them separately, allow them to live separate adventures, but they tend to prefer to be together. I wonder if that will ever change. Between you and I? I hope it never does.