If It Makes You Happy(120)

By the time I make it past our rosebushes, Michelle is out the door with two bags in her hand and Rocket trotting by her side. She laughs when she sees me and laughs even harder when I tuck my arms under her knees, lift her over my shoulder, and carry her back to my house with Rocket barking the whole way.

When we’re back inside, I plop her down on the linoleum. She reaches out for my glasses with her free hand and adjusts them.

I wiggle them up and down with a smile. “You still like them?”

“Maybe.”

I want to bury my lips into her neck, but I have to pull away when I hear tiny footsteps pounding over the carpet toward the kitchen.

“Michelle!”

Brittany barrels into Michelle’s legs, nearly knocking her backward. She holds tight, hugging on to her as Michelle attempts to walk. Rocket bounces alongside them, his tail whooshing through the air, hitting against the breakfast nook’s legs.

“Did Santa come to your house?” Michelle asks.

“Yes! We haven’t opened presents but—”

“You haven’t opened presents yet?” Michelle gawks, looking at me with a broad grin. “Cliff, how dare you!”

“I’m revoking your coffee privileges,” I say.

“No, you’re not,” she counters.

I smirk and dutifully grab her a mug from the cabinet.

Brittany gasps. “Are those for us?”

I finally look closer at the two bags in Michelle’s hands. They’re illustrated with snowy cottages and horse-drawn carriages. Red tissue paper sprouts from the top.

“They are,” Michelle says.

The smile that bursts over my face is almost embarrassing.

She got my girls a gift.

“You didn’t have to—” I start, but Emily runs in, yelling, “She did!”

Michelle tells them which bag is theirs, and the girls snatch the presents, running back into the living room together. Following them with a coffee mug each, Michelle and I walk into the living room. It’s oddly domestic, but I love every second of it.

I sit on the opposite side of the couch from Michelle and Rocket—not too close in case the girls notice, even though Emily’s eyes swing from Michelle back to me with a broad grin. Tracy’s gaze follows, staring pointedly at Michelle.

Brittany and Emily rip into their gifts like animals.

New CDs quickly stack up for Emily. “Whoa, you got me the Smashing Pumpkins, Michelle?”

For Brittany, there’s a new Barbie, a Tickle Me Elmo, and finally, a rectangular box she shakes in her hand. She looks at me curiously, and I nod.

“Open it up, Britt.”

She slides open one side. Slick, glossy photos slide onto the carpet.

Her eyes shine as bright as stars. “Santa got my photos, Dad!”

“See? Told you he’d listen,” Emily says with a smile, performing her older-sister duty of keeping up the Santa myth.

I think she enjoys it more than I do.

Brittany holds up the top photo. “Look! It’s Rocket!”

Rocket perks up at the sound of his name.

I laugh. Sure, the photo has Rocket, but it also has half of Brittany’s thumb in the shot.

“You’re a natural,” I say.

Brittany continues pushing through the photos. I skimmed the stack before wrapping it. There are crooked shots of the inn and Rocket’s snout. There’s one of me at the bakery, arm deep in the oven. Some are from Halloween, but most of those ended up blurry from the flash.

Carol scoots behind her and looks through them over Brittany’s shoulder. Laughing, she grabs one and holds it up. It’s Michelle and Carol sitting on the front porch.

“Paparazzo,” she teases.

“Oh, look, there’s Josh,” Tracy says, joining in.

I can tell she feels left out. She points to a photo tossed closer to the fireplace. In the picture, Emily and Josh are curled on Bird & Breakfast’s couch under a big blanket.

Tracy tilts her nose up. “I can see how you two get into trouble.”

Emily goes stiff as a board. “What?”

Tracy shrugs. “Just remember to be safe.”

Her wide eyes instantly dart to me and Michelle.

“You told her?” Emily snaps.

Michelle’s eyebrows rise. So do mine.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Tracy cuts in. Her face is turning red at the same rate Emily’s cheeks are suddenly draining of color.

“Tell her what?” I ask too.

Then it hits me. I can feel my own heart sinking as I uncomfortably adjust on the cushions. I glance at Michelle, whose eyebrows stitch inward. She probably realized it seconds before me. The pregnancy test.

“Em …” Michelle says, but the word fades off.

“We didn’t,” I finish for her.

Emily’s posture falters as the realization suddenly settles in.

“You didn’t tell her?” Emily whispers.

Michelle quickly shakes her head, pulling in her lips.

Emily’s shoulders drop, and she breathes out a small, “Shit.”

“Emily Theresa Burke,” Tracy snaps. “Language. You tell me what’s going on right now.”

I immediately pinch my eyes closed. That type of demand will get her nowhere with Emily, and predictably, Emily scrambles to stand with a glare pointed at her.