A Secret Baby for Christmas-Bonus Scene

Five years later…

The sweet Italian wine must have gone to my head, because I can’t believe what I’m seeing. A space has been cleared on the long dining table, and Hans and his brother-in-law Lorenzo have their hands locked together in an arm wrestle.

“Come on, Dad,” shouts Luca, Lorenzo and Greta’s eldest. He jumps around excitedly as only a six-year-old can.

Greta jiggles the baby on her hip as she calls encouragement to her husband, while Allie has her hand on the back of Hans’s chair cheering like she’s at a football match.

An arm slides around my waist, and the familiar scent of my husband lets me know he’s behind me.

“Isn’t he some kind of mafia guy?” I whisper. Because Greta’s husband has always been a mystery to me. He’s taciturn and hardly ever smiles, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen him look even remotely ruffled. His pristine Armani suit jacket is strewn over the back of a chair and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing a nasty set of scars up his arm.

“He’s all right once you get to know him.”

Mr. Porter plants a soft kiss on my neck in the spot just below my ear that makes my entire body shiver. I press my body backwards, letting my hips grind gently against him, and feel the satisfaction of him harden.

“Think we can sneak away while they’re doing this?” He nibbles my ear, and the warm sensation spreads through my body.

I glance around the room and spy Janette, our four-year-old in the corner playing with her Duplo set with Alessia, who is Greta and Lorenzo’s middle child.

Hugo’s jumping around the table cheering for his uncle, as excited as Luca is.

“You’re up next, Dad,” he calls to my husband.

David chuckles in my ear. It’s hard to sneak away for a quickie when you’ve got a cabin full of guests.

“It’ll have to wait,” I say.

“David catches me around the waist and grinds himself into me, not caring if anyone sees. “I don’t like to wait, Mrs. Porter,” he growls.

There’s a cheer from the table and Hans stands up with his arms in the air, victorious. Allie jumps up and down and high fives Hugo.

“Isn’t it dangerous to beat a Berone brother in anything?” I ask, only half joking. I’m still not entirely comfortable that I have connections with Wild Heart Mountain’s only mafia family. “Might Hans be disappeared?”

But Lorenzo’s laughing, a rare sight, and based on the way Greta’s looking at him with love, I wonder if he let her brother win on purpose.

“Your turn, Dad!” Hugo pulls on his arm, and we’re separated by our energetic six-year-old.

“I’ll go check on the babies,” I say as Mr. Porter rolls his sleeves up, exposing firm muscular arms as strong as any younger man.

I sneak into the back room, which has been turned into a nursery. Our youngest, Celine, is fast asleep alongside her niece, Freja.

Allie and Hans spent four years away. They only came back to the States when Allie got pregnant. They had Freja only a week before we had from Celine.

We’ve decided to stop at three. My husband will be almost fifty soon, and while he’s as energetic as ever, three is enough for me.

Celine and Freja are sleeping with their hands clasped together. At just under a year old they’re already close, like sisters rather than aunt and niece, although we call them cousins.

Allie and I are as close as we were growing up. As we get older, the age difference between me and her father matter less and less.

I smile as I watch the girls sleep, and a warm contentment wraps around my heart. This is the family I dared to dream of.

We spend a few months in France every year with my mother’s family. David and Papa have an uneasy relationship, but they’ve learned to get along. When we visit, it’s on our terms.

A cheer erupts from the living room, and I head back to find my husband sitting across from Hans, eyeing the younger man warily.

“Show me what you’ve got, old man,” Hans teases.

They’ve got an easy relationship, which makes it easy for me and Allie. Since they’ve been back we’ve spent a lot of time together, and it’s clear Hans is devoted to Allie.

The lights from the Christmas tree blink, and the faint sound of carols come from the resort square. We come back to the Emerald Lake Resort every Christmas, but this is the first year that Allie and Hans have joined us.

We spoke to Allie’s mom earlier on a video call. She’s spending Christmas with her wife’s family in Philadelphia. Yeah, her wife. She started seeing Becky two years ago, and I’ve never seen Allie’s mom so happy. Becky is good for her. She keeps her chilled out, and with two grown up children of her own and several grandkids, they’re kept busy.

Mr. Porter and Hans lock hands, and Allie gets her phone out to film it. They’re both strong men, and Hans thinks he has an advantage being the younger man, but he doesn’t know my husband.

Hans pushes with all his strength, and for a moment their hands lean to his side.

“Come on!” I shout.

Mr. Porter’s face sets in a determined line, and he digs in. Slowly their arms come back up to the middle. They’re both straining, and there’s sweat on Hans’s forehead.

Hugo jumps around his dad, cheering him on, while Luca gets behind his Uncle Hans. Allie doesn’t know who to cheer for and hops from foot to foot, finally deciding to back her husband.

“Show him what you’ve got!” I yell.

With a final push, Mr. Porter slams Hans’ hand to the table.

Cheers erupt, and I jump up in the air. Mr. Porter’s still got it.

I look around at the happy faces and think again how lucky I am.

Our Christmas Eve is loud and chaotic with kids jumping about making a mess everywhere, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. There’s a stack of dirty dishes in the kitchen from our Christmas Eve meal earlier. The kids are up far later than they should be, and there’ll be tantrums tomorrow, but for now, it’s the perfect evening.

Our extended family, a cabin full of kids, and all the people I love.

I couldn’t be happier.