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Chapter Twenty Four – December 24

It was hard to be in the Christmas spirit after attending a funeral just days before, but somehow the talk with Angel seemed to lift Nick’s spirits slightly. As I walked down the stairs on Christmas Eve morning I saw Nick standing barefoot in the living room, fixing the star at the top of our tree.

“Morning,” I said with a yawn. He turned and smiled at me.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” I corrected.

“Christmas is Christmas,” he countered.

“What are you doing?” I asked, leaning against the doorway to the living room.

“Bitsy went berserk and attacked the tree. Again.”

I laughed. The combination of blinking lights and sparkly ornaments freaked Bitsy out. Every now and then she would get it in her mind to attack and the tree would shake to and fro. The star was constantly falling off the top.

“You want breakfast?” I asked as he untangled a drooping strand of lights.

“I won’t turn it down.”

As I was dipping pieces of bread into batter for French toast, the phone rang. I picked it up and continued the process of transferring the soaked pieces to a skillet.

“Hello?”

“Merry Christmas baby girl,” my mom said. I smiled.

“Merry Christmas.”

“How’s Nick doing?”

“He’s doing okay, considering.”

“I wish I could be there,” she said wistfully. I sighed.

“I wish you could too.”

“Luckily, I should be able to move by February.”

“What?!”

I dropped the receiver. It hit the ground hard. Nick poked his head in.

“Everything okay?”

“Could you pick up the phone? I dropped it.”

I wiped my messy fingers on a towel as he scooped the phone up off the floor. The connection was lost; I was just about ready to dial her number when the phone rang again.

“Well, if you don’t want me to move…” mom teased. I laughed.

“No! I just. Really?”

“Someone put a bid in on the house a couple of days ago. The offer’s a little lower than I wanted, but I think I’m going to take it. I really want to be settled by the time the baby’s born.”

Nick took over the flipping of the French toast while I sat down in a chair.

“That’s great news,” I said. Nick raised an eyebrow. I covered the earpiece with my hand.

“Mom’s got an offer on the house. She said she should be able to move down here by February.”

Nick smiled. “That is great news.”

I could guess what Nick was thinking about. With his album coming out February 8, he was going to be on the road almost the whole month doing promotion. At eight months pregnant, there would be no way I could go with him. Having mom around made not only me, but him, feel a little better about the situation.

“Mom, let me know when you’re ready,” I said. “I’ve done a little research and there’s a company that can bring your stuff down here so you don’t have to drive. That means you and the dogs can fly.”

“When have you had time to do research?” mom chided. I smiled.

“Hey, I find time for important people.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, then I passed the phone to Nick. Nick broke into a smile as he talked to her; it was such a different reaction from when he was around his own mom.

“Of course I’m taking good care of Liv,” Nick said as he put the French toast on a plate. “Yup, we got your presents. We’re going to open them tonight.”

I stood up and got the butter, syrup and plates. Nick and I sat down and began to fork pieces onto our plates.

“I can’t wait to see you either. I feel so much better knowing someone will be close by in case she needs anything. What? Uh-huh. Okay. I love you too. Merry Christmas. Buh-bye.”

He hung up and reached for the syrup. I smeared butter across the top of mine; the cinnamon smelled delightful.

“What was all the uh-huh’s and okay’s about?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “She was teasing me. She said if I fainted during delivery that you’d have a backup coach after all.”

“Speaking of which,” I said, taking a bite of food. “Lamaze classes are the last two weeks of January.”

“Can you let me know which day we have to watch the birthing video? I might have to go on Ellen or something that day.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not getting out of it, Nick.”

“Well they better teach me how to breathe first,” he said teasingly. “Otherwise your mom will be coming up to bat.”

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That night, Nick and I sat cross legged in front of the tree with my mom’s big box of presents open before us.

“What do you want to bet that 75% of this is baby stuff?” Nick asked. I laughed and tore open the first package. It was a breast pump. Nick plucked it from my hands and studied it.

“Can I have a demonstration?” Nick asked, turning the package around. I snatched it back.

“You are so weird,” I laughed. I tossed him a package with his name on it. In the “From” field mom had written “Santa.”

“Your mom’s so cute,” Nick said with a grin. I smiled. All of the gifts I had gotten for Nick were addressed the same way. Like mother, like daughter.

Nick ripped the package open and pulled out a Buccaneer’s blanket and jersey. His face lit up.

“Awesome!” he said. He slipped the jersey on. “Take a picture – I’ve got to Twitter.”

“Nick,” I said slowly. “You’re in a jersey and boxers.”

“So?”

I took the picture.

“I think you’re going to cause a Twitter crash,” I said, handing the phone back to him. “Once fans see you in your boxers, it’s all over.”

Nick shrugged. “Oh well, I’m taken. If I didn’t love you so much, I might go after your mom. She gives great presents.”

I laughed. “Gee, I don’t know if my presents can compete.”

Nick leaned over and kissed me.

“You’re carrying my best present,” he whispered, his hand resting on my belly. I smiled.

“She’s been kicking all day and the minute you touch me she stops,” I said. He laughed.

“It’s the magic touch.”

After finishing opening my mom’s presents, we fell in a heap on the floor. Nick stuck a bow on Bitsy’s head and we enjoyed several fun minutes of seeing her buck in the air like a bull, trying to dislodge the offending object.

“You know,” Nick said lazily, stretching out and covering us both with his new fleece blanket. “Next year our little girl is going to be sitting here playing in the presents.”

I smiled. “I can’t wait.”

“Maybe we’ll have another one on the way by then,” he added. I gave him a look.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. Nick smiled, his leg rested on mine.

“What?”

“We haven’t survived one baby and you’re already mentally knocking me up again,” I teased.

“It’s a challenge that I think I’m up to,” he said. He brushed my hair away from my neck and kissed my bare skin. I sighed. I had a horrible mental image of Santa coming down the chimney while Nick and I were going at it on the floor. I made a face.

“What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I replied. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

Nick threw the blanket like a toga across his shoulder and chest and then helped me get to my feet. It was becoming harder and harder to not only stand up, but sit up. Everyone told me that the second trimester was the best. As I approached the third trimester, I understood. First trimester was plagued with morning sickness and the third trimester would be the inability to move without feeling like an overflowing bathtub.

With that sexy image in mind, I followed Nick up to the bedroom. Unless Santa came through our ceiling tiles, I was fairly certain I wouldn’t see the jolly red guy while Nick and I were doing the nasty.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.