Playboys' Christmas Surprises: A Christmas Baby Surprise

She struggled to remember every detail as if that might pry out more. “We went to a baby shower after finding out we couldn’t conceive... I just...” Her voice trailed off. The words faded and closed in her throat.

“Shhh. It’s okay.” He wrapped an arm around her. Drew her close as ragged breaths escaped her throat. His embrace was somehow more familiar than the kiss, more real.

He stroked her back, murmured into her hair. This moment felt like the first thing she’d really shared with Porter since waking from the coma. And she sank into that feeling.

Would she be able to hang on to that once they returned home? Or would it evaporate like that ethereal memory?

Six (#ua6f07b32-bd1d-5b7d-b03a-32b3c2e9b10a)

Porter had a knack for presentation and plans. It was a skill he’d picked up as he grew his construction empire. And it was something easily transferred to romance. He was a big-picture kind of guy.

And if any of his visions needed to pan out, it was this one.

The day after their shopping outing, he led Alaina through the house, hands covering her eyes.

“You swear you can’t see?” His body pressed against hers as they shuffled forward. The light scent of her coconut shampoo wafted in the inches between them, making him remember the countless nights they’d spent together. How he wanted that now. Wanted her now.

But he had to put recovering their family first. Taking her to bed would jeopardize his plans since she didn’t trust him yet.

“I swear. But what is all this about?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll just have to trust me.”

Damn. If that wasn’t the statement of the moment. Trust him that the surprise was worth it. And that he was, too.

He spun her around the room, turning in circles until there was no doubt in his mind that she was completely disoriented.

Two turns later, and they were in the family room. Dropping his hands, he waited while she surveyed the room and the additions he’d purchased just for her.

A ten-foot-tall live Christmas tree stood centered in the three bay windows. It was already lit, the white lights bathing the room in a warm glow.

Two boxes of decorations—special ordered and newly delivered—were stacked on the white-and-tan-striped couch, pushed up against the blue pillows of embroidered crabs and starfish. The shelving unit behind the couch had been emptied of the normal knickknacks of lighthouses, shells and boats.

A blank canvas. Perfect for making new memories. And maybe uncovering other old ones that would bring them closer together. Of course there was also the risk that she would remember the wrong ones. That she would realize how close they’d come to divorcing and wonder why he hadn’t told her.

This was how they would build a family together. She had been right earlier. It was time to start creating family traditions. Ones Thomas would grow into.

Traditions grounded a person, gave them a firm foundation to build a life upon, and clearly Alaina had a gift for that he hadn’t recognized before. Maybe because he’d been too busy trying to wedge her into his preconceived notions of a family portrait rather than letting them make it together.

He wanted to create the family he’d never had as a kid. It was always just him, his mom and whatever guy she was pursuing at the time. There had been no long-standing traditions on Christmas or any other time. He loved his mother, of course, but they were distant. And he wanted better for his son.

He’d always wanted this. It was why he’d grabbed this second chance. But he was starting to see he’d sacrificed some of Alaina’s preferences to reach his goal.

“How did you get this here so quickly?” Gesturing to the boxes and the tree. Blue eyes dancing in the muted light.

“The idea came to me while we were shopping and I had it all delivered.”

“But you already had the decorations in place for when we arrived.”

“Those were the ones here before, the ones outside and in the living room. It struck me today we didn’t have anything less formal, for us as a family here, to open gifts with Thomas.”

She hugged him hard. “Thank you, it’s perfect.” Then she froze, stepping back and turning away fast to dig around in the box closest to them. She lifted the decorations out and stacked them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Did I choose those others in the main living room? They don’t seem like me.” She shot him a look. “They’re so...matchy...modern art deco rather than the smoother Renaissance palettes I gravitate toward.”

“You’re right.” And he was seeing how he’d missed the mark and wished that he’d paid more attention. “Most of the decorations came with the house. I bought the place as a gift to you.”

“You didn’t build this?” Surprise cut into her voice as she lifted the palm tree crèche out of the box. Leaning against the space between the boxes on the couch, she placed the crèche on the center shelf.

“Oh, I did. But for another family. They had everything in place, ready to move in and then they split up. I picked up the place for a song...um...not that I wouldn’t have spent a fortune for you.” A sheepish grin pulled on his cheeks. He placed a running silver reindeer on the lowest shelf behind the couch.

“I know that. Clearly.”

Was that a dig? Was she complaining about their lifestyle? He shook off the defensiveness and thought about her, her wants and preferences, and recalled how uncomfortable she’d always been with his wealth. “We always planned to redecorate and never got around to it. I should have insisted.”

“Or I should have insisted. I’m an adult. I take responsibility for decisions I made, even if I can’t remember them.” She rolled her eyes.

“Would you like to redo the whole place? Or our primary residence?”

“Primary residence? Hmmm. That still feels so...surreal. Like everything else in my life.” She toyed with a red satin bow. “I haven’t even seen our regular house in Tallahassee yet. Is it like this?”

“No, you had carte blanche there.”

“How long have we lived in that house?” She sat on the tile floor between the couch and the coffee table with the box of new tree ornaments in front of her. Each one unique and made by a local artisan. Reaching into the box she began to remove all kinds of ornaments. It was a mismatched set. She set them down, one by one, on the coffee table, eyes sharp with obvious approval.

He thought back to those early days when they’d had so much hope for their future, planning a big family, children, grandchildren, growing old together. “We had it built when we got married.”

“So we made those decisions together.”

“We did.” Kneeling, he helped her take the remaining ornaments out of the box. He lifted the first ornament they’d ever got together as newlyweds: two penguins on a snowbank holding hands. Gently, he set it next to the ornament that sported a snowman made of sand.

“I wish we’d gone to our house first.” Her fingers roved gently over top of all the decorations. It was as if she was trying to gain memories by osmosis. She stopped over a Santa Claus ornament. He was posed in a Hawaiian shirt and board shorts, and he had a pink flamingo beneath his hands. A small laugh escaped her lips and she brought the Santa to the tree and hung it on a bough.

“We still can.” He brought a snowflake ornament with him and hung it slightly below hers.

“But we’re settled for now and have the follow-up appointments with Thomas’s doctor. After Christmas we can settle into a new routine.”

“It’s a lot to take in at once, both places.”

“That’s perceptive of you.”

They kept bringing ornaments to the tree, filling the boughs until they grew heavy with their collective past. He enjoyed the way that she laughed over the ornaments. The way each one was an act of discovery for her.

The evening was too good to be true.

Just as they were getting ready to put the angel on top of the tree, his mother’s laughter floated into the room a second before she entered, hanging on the arm of a man with salt-and-pepper hair.

She waved her son over. “Come here, darling. You too, Alaina.”