The Twin's Christmas Gift: Reuniting Mom & Dad

Facing the Ghost of Christmas Past

Julia

“Your what?!” I echoed, watching as his grey orbs twinkled with mirth and mischief. He took a step closer to me; he was so close that I could feel the warmth emanating from his body. He towered over me that I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, my frown deepening.

“What are you doing?” I asked, swallowing when he took another step, and I quickly took one back.

“I wanna take a closer look at you,” he murmured, taking another step closer to me. “It's been too long,” he added, his tone low and gravelly.

My eyes widened when he raised his hand and gasped, ready to take a step back, but he stopped, seeming to think better of it. He brought his hand to his head, dragging the red hat off in one go, revealing thick locks of dark hair that fell in unruly curls over his forehead, eerily identical to Lucien's.

His stormy gaze met mine as he slowly pulled the fake white beard off his face, and I gasped, my eyes growing wide.

“R-ryan,” I stuttered in shock, taking a step back in shock, but he stood there, his eyes searching mine. I could barely move as I continued to stare at the man who was my world but destroyed me with just a single act. How I had not recognized him all along was a mystery.

“Julia,” he murmured, breaking the tentative silence and bringing me out of my shock-induced state.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I yelled, my anger spiking the more I stared at him because all I could see was the man I'd loved almost all my life, not the man who threw everything we'd built together away

without a second thought and betrayed me.

“No, what am I saying? How the hell are you here?” I seethed, meeting his gaze that had softened significantly.

“Baby, please hear me out,” he said softly, raising his hands as he took a step closer, and I quickly took one back. “I have nothing to say to you, and don't you dare call me that,” I seethed, my gaze mirroring my anger. “I don't care how you got into my home; I want you to leave right now.” By the time I was done, I was heaving.

“Julia—,” he tried to say in a weak tone, his gaze soft and placating. “Don't call names!” I snapped. “I don't care what you have to say; just leave!” My voice was louder than I'd intended, but I didn't care at that point.

“I'm not leaving until you hear me out,” he said, his tone firm as he stood his ground and scoffed.

“I'm calling the cops.” I turned away from him to go grab my phone, but gasped in shock when he held my arm and pulled me back, and I slammed into his chest.

“Don't,” he breathed, his hot, minty breath fanning against my cheeks as his hypnotizing gaze held mine captive.

“Mommy!” The sound of Olivia's voice had me snapping out of whatever spell his eyes had put me under, and I quickly pulled my arm out of his hold, taking a quick step away from him to look up at the top of the stairs where the twins were standing,

staring wide-eyed down at us.

“Oh God,” I muttered under my breath, before mustering a wide smile as my eyes darted back to Ryan's and then to the twins.

“Are you okay, Mommy?” Olivia asked, concern lacing her tone as she looked between Ryan, who was now standing wordlessly behind me, and me.

“I'm okay, baby,” I reassured, walking towards the foot of the stairs and taking hold of the bannister as I stared up at them. “You shouldn't be here; you guys should be in bed,” I chastised, taking the stairs slowly. “Come on, you two, back to bed,” I coaxed, resuming my steps towards them.

“Santa looks like your college friend mommy,” Lucien spoke up for the first time, tilting his head to the side, blinking down at us, and I froze.

“What?” I laughed nervously, shaking my head in denial at cursing his keen observation nonstop in my head. “No, he doesn't,” I denied quickly, and Lucien frowned.

“Yes he does,” he countered quickly, and I heard Ryan chuckle behind me, like it was funny; of course he found it funny.

“Lucien, that is not him,” I spoke through gritted teeth this time, narrowing my eyes at my son, hoping he'd somehow take the hint and go back to bed like I'd instructed, but instead, his eyes flashed just the way they always would whenever he thought of a brilliant idea.

“It is Mommy; wait here; I'll show you,” he said, turning and sprinting back down the hallway before I could stop him. “s**t,” I cursed under my breath for the umpteenth time that evening.

Left with no other option I turned from heading up the stairs, where Olivia was standing with a frown, back to Ryan, who was now standing at the foot of the stairs.

“Ryan, I need you to leave right now,” I said, my tone a gentle whisper, as I didn't want my daughter to get wind of what I was saying to him.

“I'm begging you, I—”

“Mommy!” I turned just in time to see Lucien rushing down the stairs as quickly as he could, gripping a photograph that seemed eerily familiar. Blood drained from my face at the realization of the damned photograph he was clutching in his grasp.

“Where did you get that photograph?” I admonished, and Lucien just shrugged. “I found it in the same drawer you keep your old letters to Santa,” he responded, and my heart dropped.

Oh f**k me

Ryan arched a perfectly defined brow, his stormy gaze narrowing at me, and I quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact. I didn't need him to know I still kept those letters from years ago.I hated his guts for betraying me, but I couldn't find it in me to throw those letters away, so I kept them.

We had this ritual where we'd write a letter to Santa asking for a gift. Of course we knew Santa wasn't real, but it was our thing. We'd sneak off when the other wasn't looking and check each other's letters and surprise each other with whatever we'd asked for.

“I was right, Mommy, it is him,” Lucien said, looking from the photograph in his hand and back up to Ryan, before stopping at the last step as he stared at the picture and then at Ryan, who was now staring back at Lucien. He rushed to stand in front of Ryan, tilting his head back as he looked at the tall man, before raising his tiny hand for a handshake.

“My name is Lucien Seth Wilson, and you are?” Lucien introduced himself briefly, looking up at Ryan expectantly, who snapped his eyes to meet mine and held my gaze for a second, shock written over his handsome features, before his gaze away, crouching down to Lucien's level, taking his little hand in his large one, and shaking firmly.

Of course he was surprised I'd named our son after his late father, Seth Thompson, but I at least owed him that much.

“I'm Ryan Thompson, little one,” he murmured, his deep baritone low and soothing as he seemed to hesitate for a split second but continued anyway.

“Your father,” he completed, and I watched Lucien's eyes grow wide in shock while I stood there seething in anger.