Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Harper

Christmas morning arrived with Lily bouncing on our bed at six-fifteen, entirely too early for anyone still recovering from wrapping presents until midnight.

“IT’S CHRISTMAS.”

“We’re aware,” Damian mumbled into his pillow.

“Santa came. I heard the reindeer.”

“You heard the wind.”

“It was definitely reindeer.”

I laughed, pulling myself upright despite my body’s strong protest. “Give us ten minutes, baby.”

“Five.”

“Seven.”

“Deal.”

She disappeared in a blur of pajamas and excitement, leaving Damian and me alone for a few precious extra minutes.

“Remind me why we agreed to have a child who wakes up at dawn,” he said, still facedown against the pillow.

“You didn’t have a choice. She arrived fully formed and opinionated.”

“Fair point.”

We made our way downstairs eventually, finding Lily already perched beside the tree, practically vibrating with anticipation. The morning unfolded exactly the way Christmas mornings were supposed to — wrapping paper scattered everywhere, Lily’s delighted shrieks over every gift, Damian’s quiet contentment as he watched his daughter’s joy without the guarded distance that used to define him.

By early afternoon, the house had filled with family for the first time in what felt like actual years rather than months. Victoria arrived with an elaborately wrapped gift for Lily and a considerably more modest one for us, joking that our relationship still required “appropriate incremental gestures.”

Richard came next, hesitant in the doorway until Lily practically dragged him inside by the hand, insisting he needed to see her new dollhouse immediately.

“You’re good with her,” I observed, watching Richard kneel awkwardly beside Lily’s dollhouse, listening intently as she narrated an elaborate story involving the dolls’ complicated family drama.

“I’m trying,” Richard said, not looking up. “I wasn’t, with Damian. Not the way I should have been.”

“It’s not too late to be different with her.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “I suppose it isn’t.”

Ethan arrived last, carrying an oversized gift that turned out to be an elaborate unicorn-themed art set, earning him instant favorite status with Lily for at least the remainder of the afternoon.

“You didn’t have to go that big,” Damian said, watching Lily tear through the wrapping paper with enthusiastic abandon.

“I wanted to,” Ethan said. “Therapy homework, actually. Showing love through action instead of resentment.”

“How’s that going?”

“Better than expected,” Ethan admitted. “Still hard, some days. But better.”

Damian clapped a hand against his shoulder, something warm and genuine passing between them that hadn’t existed there in years. Watching the exchange, I felt something settle deeply in my chest, gratitude threading through every quiet moment of healing happening around us.

Dinner that evening stretched long and comfortable, conversation flowing easily around the table despite the complicated history connecting everyone seated there. Evelyn, seated beside Victoria of all people, laughed genuinely at something Victoria said, the two women finding unexpected common ground over shared exasperation with stubborn Blackwood men.

“Your mother’s delightful,” Victoria told me later, once dinner had concluded and everyone had scattered into smaller conversations throughout the house.

“She’d probably say the same about you, surprisingly.”

“I used to intimidate her terribly, I think.”

“You used to intimidate everyone.”

Victoria laughed, something unguarded and genuine in the sound. “Old habits. I’m working on softening them.”

“It’s working.”

“Slowly.”

“That’s usually how the good things happen,” I said, echoing sentiments that had guided my entire relationship with Damian from the very beginning.

Damian

Later that night, once the house had finally quieted and everyone had departed, Harper and I sat together beside the dying embers of the fireplace, exhaustion settling comfortably over both of us.

“Good Christmas?” I asked.

“The best one I can remember,” Harper said. “Actually the best one, not just the one I’m pretending was good because everyone expects gratitude on holidays.”

“I know that feeling well.”

“I imagine you do.” She curled closer against my side. “Your family’s healing, Damian. Genuinely healing. I didn’t think I’d ever see Richard kneeling on the floor playing dollhouse, or Victoria laughing with my mother like old friends.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted. “I think watching you handle everything with such patience taught all of us something we desperately needed learning. How to actually try, instead of just performing obligation.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I give you exactly the credit you deserve,” I said, pressing a kiss against her temple. “None of this exists without you, Harper. Not the healing, not Ethan’s therapy, not Richard’s slow redemption. You walked into this family determined to destroy it, and instead you saved every fractured piece of it.”

Harper’s eyes glistened slightly, emotion she rarely allowed herself to fully display. “I didn’t expect any of this, you know. When I first started this plan.”

“I know.”

“I expected anger. Revenge. Some hollow satisfaction once I finally exposed everything your family had done to my mother.” She paused, considering her words carefully. “Instead I found forgiveness. Healing. An entire family finally learning how to actually love each other properly.”

“Sometimes the best outcomes arrive disguised as complete failures,” I said. “Your revenge plan failed spectacularly. I don’t think either of us could have asked for a better outcome.”

Harper laughed softly, resting her head against my shoulder as the fire crackled quietly beside us. “I love you, Damian. More than I ever thought I’d allow myself to love anyone.”

“I love you too,” I said, meaning it more completely than I’d ever meant anything in my life. “Every complicated, unexpected, beautifully chaotic part of loving you.”

Because we weren’t navigating any of it separately.