Five years later, on Christmas Eve, I walked through the door still carrying the chill of the night air with me.My father and Aunt Julia were rushing around the kitchen, and the second they saw me, they called me over to eat. My little brother, five years old now and utterly without a shred of self-consciousness, threw himself into my arms and demanded kisses. I gave in and peppered his face until he was satisfied, drool and all, and finally let me go.Nicolas's eyes went straight to my stomach, watching me like I might trip and fall at any second. Back when my mother had made her move, he'd been running late, and I'd nearly lost my life because of it. Ever since, he'd barely left my side. Even when work kept him away, he'd call two or three times just to check I was safe. Now that I was carrying our baby, he watched over me like I was the most precious thing in the world."Ugh, they're STILL this clingy after all this time? Married for years, and you'd think they'd get over it."
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