She wades through an ocean of cheek kisses and fawning glances. Half a dozen cousins and creepy uncles immediately rush to help unload her car. They came in carrying towering boxes of my baked goods, and every one of them gushes to Vivian about how delicious they look.
Connor is a few minutes behind her. He finds me by the sideboard, where I’m moving a tray of stuffed mushrooms two inches to the left for reasons known only to my mother.
“Hiya.” He kisses the top of my head. “Merry Christmas, babe.”
“Merry Christmas,” I say back, brushing sweaty bangs out of my face.
His hand rests on my back for exactly as long as his dad is watching, then leaves.
“Look at that,” my father-in-law says. “Ten years and he still can’t keep his hands off you.”
“He’s a real romantic,” I agree.
“Gets it f
