“Um…Michael,” she answered, and glanced at Jack. He stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed. I looked at Holly, then back at Jack.

“Michael? Why is he in town?” I asked as Jack handed Holly her martini. He rubbed my shoulders reassuringly. I looked at him and he nodded. He was okay with this.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say,” she answered, sipping her cocktail. “Jesus, Jack, this is great. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Nope,” I answered, winking devilishly at him.

He waggled his eyebrows back, and Nick sighed happily.

By the time I finished my gravy, Rebecca, followed quickly by Lane, had arrived. Rebecca greeted me coolly, but seemed to soften as she walked around the house, complimenting me on the festive decorations. Lane swept me into a fierce hug and kissed me on the cheek.

“Glad you’re back. I missed this sweet rack,” he said, openly staring down my dress. I saw Lane wink at Holly, then saw the blush creep into Holly’s face. She busied herself with the sweet potatoes, but Jack caught it too. I laughed when Lane pulled out his cigarettes and Jack immediately dragged him out back. Jack knew the rules: no smoking inside. He was already asserting himself as the man of the house—charming.

I began to carry the dishes out to the table, and Rebecca joined me.

“So, you back for good now?” she asked, setting down the Brussels sprouts, which had turned out great. She eyed me carefully as I smoothed my skirt and looked back at her.

“Yep, back for good…I know you’re still upset with me, Rebecca, but I’m glad you’re here tonight,” I said, turning back toward the kitchen.

“Grace?” she called, and I looked over my shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“He loves you so much. I’m glad you realized that. But if you ever hurt him again—” she started.

“Then you have my permission to kick my ass,” I finished.

She looked at me hard, then broke. “Shit, girl, like I need your permission.” She laughed, then went to grab the last few dishes.

I saw Jack smiling through the doorway to the patio, and I jiggled my boobies at him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. I giggled and was still laughing when I heard the doorbell. I answered it, and there was my friend. Michael. With flowers.

“Hey!” I yelled, and hugged him.

“Hey, Grace,” he answered, hugging me back. He let me go quickly and handed me the bouquet.

“Thanks for the invitation. I didn’t know I was going to be here until the last minute, and I’m headed back tomorrow. Wow, great house!” he exclaimed as we walked inside.

“Thanks. Why are you in L.A. anyway?” I asked as I set the flowers down and led him to the dining room.

“Actually, it’s an interesting story. Tell you about it tomorrow?” he said, shrugging out of his coat.

“Well, you’re Mr. Mysterious, aren’t you? Yes, tell me tomorrow. Right now we’re eating,” I said, going to the back door.

“Hey, Sweet Nuts, time to eat,” I called, and Jack and Lane filed in.

“I might have to share that nickname with the rest of the cast, don’t you think, Bec?” Lane asked, elbowing Jack in the ribs as everyone found a place at the table.

“No way. No one calls him Sweet Nuts but me.” I glared at Lane, who took a seat across from Holly. I sat at one end of the table, and Jack sat at the other.

Introductions were quickly made for Michael, and soon everyone had a glass of wine.

“Before we start, I would like to say a little something,” I said, standing.

Everyone looked at me expectantly. I cleared my throat, which was suddenly thick.

“This has been an amazing year for me, personally and professionally. Every one of you has played a part in this,” I said, and as I spoke I looked from face to face, concentrating on each of them. “I’ve made new friends and renewed old friendships I thought I’d never have again. I fulfilled a dream I’ve had since I was very young. And, I was lucky enough to fall crazy in love. This has been a fantastic year. I hope I’m fortunate enough to spend next year with such incredible people.” I felt my eyes sting as my gaze settled on Jack’s sweet face. “You’re my family. Merry Christmas,” I whispered, and I sat down quickly before I made an ass of myself.

We were all quiet, looking at each other.

“And Happy Fucking Hanukkah!” Nick yelled through his own tears, producing a dreidel from his pocket and spinning it in his hand. We laughed, and Holly leaned over to kiss Nick on the mouth. The mood was festive as we passed the plates and dishes and loaded up. Everyone told tales of the holidays growing up, and as we laughed and talked, I looked around again at all their faces. They really were my family. Each represented something different that I cherished: Lane for pure comedy and his good heart, Rebecca for her power and loyalty, Nick for his passion and energy, Michael for his support and comfort, Holly for her strength and love, and Jack for everything. He was everything I’d ever wanted, and everything I hadn’t even known I needed.

What was I worried about? I had my family.

***

After dinner was over and the dishes were done, we went into the living room, gathered around the tree, and passed out presents. Holly and I gave each other the same thing: two days at a spa in Palm Springs, and Nick received an iPod from Holly and from me. He loved them both equally.

We drank more, ate dessert, and played games. The music got steadily louder, and as we consumed endless bottles of wine, we got crazier. Michael and Jack somehow ended up on the same team for Pictionary, and they did surprisingly well. I was so happy they were getting along.

Finally, Rebecca was the first to get up to leave. With hugs from Jack and me and a Merry Christmas, she took off. Nick was soon to follow, taking the time to hug me tightly at the door.

“So glad you’re back, my dear,” he said. “It was getting dreadfully boring without you.” He kissed me on the cheek.

“Oh, please. You just wanted me back so you could stare at the pretty close up,” I teased.

He looked over my shoulder at Jack, who was talking to Lane and Holly by the fireplace. “Yes, yes, it’s true. He really is quite pretty.” He sighed and hugged me again. Then he pulled back to look at me, his eyes suddenly serious. “Grace, let him take care of you, okay?” he asked, smiling sweetly.

“I will, Nick. Thanks.” I nodded and kissed him again.

He squeezed my ass, shouted to Lane and Jack that he was ready for the three-way whenever they were, and was gone.

Michael was next to leave.

“So you’re gonna tell me tomorrow why you’re out here, right?” I asked as I walked him outside.

“Yep, I’ll call you in the morning,” he said.

We stood quietly, taking in the darkness around us, and the peacefulness. There was a howl nearby, and he jumped.

“What the hell was that?” he asked nervously.

I laughed. “Coyote,” I answered, listening to hear another one.

“You have coyotes around here?” he whispered.

“Sometimes you can hear them. I even see them every so often when I’m driving the canyons at night.”

“Coyotes in the middle of Los Angeles. What a great place to live,” he said in wonder.

“I know. You see why I love it here now?”

He looked again at the night sky and lemon trees. A soft breeze blew through his hair, and he nodded. “I definitely see the appeal.”

We were quiet another moment, and then I said, “Thanks for coming tonight. It was nice to have us all together.”

“Thanks for having me. Call you tomorrow?”

“Yep. ’Night, Michael.” I hugged him. This time the wool and sage and lemons—from him and the nearby trees—was perfect and sweet.

“’Night, Grace,” he said, and he was gone.

Holly and Lane left together after taking a little ribbing from me and Jack. Now that the secret was out, or at least acknowledged by the four of us, they were the ones to be teased.

Lane swept me into a bear hug, once again lifting me off the ground. “Killer party, Sheridan. I told you we’d break this house in right.”

“Hell, yes! Glad you could make it. We’ll see you soon?”

“You got it.” He winked, taking one last peek down my dress.

“Knock it off,” Jack admonished as he and Holly walked over.

“Can’t. They’re fantastic,” Lane replied, with another wink and that huge smile.

I swear, I could live in those dimples.

“I’ll show you something fantastic,” Holly said, pulling her dress down a little in front and flashing Lane and Jack the top of her lacy black bra.

I laughed as their eyes bugged out. You wave a boob in front of a guy, and he’s perpetually thirteen.

Tucking her girls away, Holly turned to me. “Great party, asshead. Lunch tomorrow?”

“Yep, call me in the morning…Not too early, though.”

Jack slipped his arm around my waist and tucked me into his side.

“Deal,” she said, and gave me a hug.

She and Lane walked to their cars, and he opened her door for her.

“Olive juice, Holly!” I called as she started her car.

She leaned out the window. “Olive juice too, ya little fruitcake!”

The two cars left the driveway, and I noticed they both went the same direction, even though I knew for a fact Lane lived the other way…

Jack and I walked back into the house and surveyed the damage: board games all over the room, wine glasses and half-eaten pie covering the coffee table. I yawned against him as he started turning out lights.

“You want to do this now or tomorrow morning, Crazy?” he asked, returning to my side and slipping his arms around my waist.

“We should do it now, but I don’t want to,” I admitted, leaning into him and relaxing my head against his chest. We looked at the tree. The twinkle of the lights and the patterns they made bouncing off the ornaments made the room very cozy. Lane and Jack (with a lot of surreptitious help from Michael) had managed to worry a fire together, and it crackled merrily in the background.

I’d switched the music a little while ago, and my favorite Christmas carols now played.

“Hey, we still need to do our presents!” I exclaimed, sliding out of his embrace and starting for the coat closet in the hallway where I’d hidden his.

“You want to do those now? Christmas isn’t for a few days, Gracie.”

“Yes, but the spirit is moving me now. Come on, George. Didn’t you get me anything?” I teased.

“Oh, I did, and when you see it you’re going to let me do that thing to you you said I could never, ever do.” He disappeared into the bedroom.

“Get over it, George. Never means never. I don’t care what you get me. Not going to happen.” I laughed.

He came back to the living room. If he’d retrieved anything, I couldn’t see it.

My present for him was big, so I made him sit on the couch and close his eyes. I removed it from the closet and set it in front of him.

“Okay, open,” I said. He complied, and then his eyes widened in surprise. It took him a few minutes to realize what it was.

“Grace, you really shouldn’t have done this,” he breathed, staring at my present.

Sitting in front of him was a brand new Breedlove Revival OM-M acoustic guitar. He picked it up like a father with a new baby: gently and with reverence. His hands explored the smooth lines, the curved planes, and with exquisite dexterity, he strummed. A beautiful tone came forth from the wood, and a wondrous smile broke across his face.

“Oh, love. This is too much.” He smiled and made no move to set it down.

I sat quietly next to him on the couch and listened to him play for a few minutes, losing himself in the music.

“This is extraordinary. Thank you so much,” he whispered, setting the guitar carefully beside him and turning to me. He placed his hands on either side of my face, with the same care he’d used to hold my present, and stared into my eyes for what seemed like hours. He leaned in and kissed me softly, barely pressing his lips to mine.

We kissed gently and sweetly, my hands coming up to cover his own as he held my face.

He leaned his forehead in to rest on mine. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

I smiled at him. “I love you too.”

He pulled away and put both hands behind his back. “Okay, your presents. Pick a hand,” he instructed.

“Presents? You got me two things? Not fair,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

“Gracie, shut the f**k up and enjoy this. Now pick a hand, please,” he said, his eyes dancing.

I sat back and looked at him, the beautiful man in front of me. I pointed to his left hand, then looked at him expectantly.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow, but did as I was told.

“Put out your hand, love.”

I stuck my hand out, and into it was placed what felt like a small velvet box.

What?

My eyes fluttered open and stared at the box from Harry Winston.

What? And I say again, what?

“George, what did you do?” I asked, my heart beating against my chest.

“Just open it, Nuts Girl,” he said, nudging me with his knee.

Carefully, I opened the box and stared. It took me about thirty seconds to fully comprehend what was inside, and then I threw myself into his lap. The tears began immediately. “Jesus, George, I love you so much!” I choked through my tears and maniacal laughing. I was having a full-on breakdown.