We spent our entire day in the kitchen, baking way too many cookies for just us, Christmas music playing on the radio as we all worked around the small kitchen. By the time evening rolled around, our house smelt like a bakeshop, and we were all way too tired to cook any dinner. So dad went and grabbed Chinese take-out instead. We used to do this all the time with the Olivers. Chinese food on Christmas eve was one of the many traditions we'd had with them.

    "Alright, everyone," Nikki stands from the dining room table once dinner is finished, "I have a little surprise for everyone in the living room..."

    "A surprise?" Mom asks, shocked that she didn't know about it. We all follow behind Nikki into the living room. It'd been cleaned up since this morning, the couch cushions back on the couch. Under the tree, there were presents, all wrapped in different coloured wrapping papers. Instead of buying one colour of paper and putting everyone's names on gifts, we've always gotten a different coloured wrapping paper for each person. A rainbow of colours shown under the tree, making it appear bright and fun-looking, something I absolutely adored when I was Skye's age.

    We all disperse around the living room as Nikki begins handing out the packages. She gotone for each of us. Even the twins have tiny boxes wrapped in pastel blue and pink. I don't need to open it to know what was inside. This was always Nikki and Toms thing. They'd get us PJs for Christmas Eve, and we'd take a family picture in the morning when the parents were all half-asleep, and us kids at the time were wide-eyed and full of energy. She used to scrapbook all the pictures. She had an entire book dedicated to just our PJ photos.

    I wonder if she's updated it during the last five years?

    "Okay," Nikki claps her hands, once she's handed all the packages out, "you can open them."

     We all tore the paper open in unison.  Beneath the wrapping was a pair of plaid PJ pants with red, green, and black stripes. The top was a white fuzzy hoodie that was cropped.

     "These are adorable," Lizzie squealed, holding up the twin's PJs. They're onesies and the same pattered plaid as the rest of ours. On the front, in cursive, it said my first Christmas, "thank you so much, Nikki."

    "I missed this," Harper tells the woman, holding her PJs, which were identical to mine, tightly in her arms "mom and dad have been doing PJ shopping the last few years, and they always go the day of. So, we get stuck with the reject PJs."

    Nikki laughed. Wyatt and her both have such similar smiles. The kind of smile that takes over your entire face, her eyes squinting together happily. The sort of smile that makes you smile in return, "I'm glad you like them," She nods, "now go change. Santa is coming soon."

    At the mention of Santa, Skye jumps to her feet, clutching her PJs tightly in her arms, "Santa won't come if we're still awake. Come on, people." She orders us all, rushing out of the living room and up the stairs.

    When I was a kid, I'd try staying up to catch a peek of Santa. Skye was the opposite, though. She went to bed early and without a complaint. She didn't want Santa to skip over our house because she was awake. Mom and dad were grateful for it. When Harper and I were kids, they'd have to wait hours for us to fall asleep to put out our gifts from Santa. With Skye, they were able to put them out so much earlier.

    We all follow Skye up the stairs, splitting up to change into our PJs. They're the perfect fit. I always have a hard time buying pants; my legs are long, so most of the time, my pajama pants look like a pair of capris. These fit perfectly though like Nikki had got them hemmed just for me.

    I begin putting the outfit I'd been wearing previously away when someone knocks on my bedroom door, so gentle I barely heard it. Wyatt's waiting at my door when I open it. His hands shoved in the pockets of his plaid PJ pants. Unlike mine, his aren't tapered at the ankles, and instead of the fluffy sweatshirt, he wears a white t-shirt.

     "Is that a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat?" I ask him, nodding towards his t-shirt. A t-rex stood in the center of his shirt, wrapped in Christmas lights and adoring a Santa hat on its head.

      Wyatt laughs, glancing down at his shirt, "It's a tree rex," he jokes, reading the word that was written in the corner above the dinosaur, "I picked it out myself. All the guys have them."

    It was a terrible pun, but I laugh anyway, shaking my head amused. Of course, he picked it out, "I'm a little offended us girls didn't get Dinosaurs." I inform him, crossing my arms across my chest.

     Wyatt opens his mouth to reply, cutting himself off as his eyes lingered over to something behind my shoulder, "how is your room the exact same," He asks me, chuckling. I don't know why, but I let him step past me, allowing him to enter my room.

    He was right. Nothing's changed. My queen-sized bed still sits in the centre of the room, pushed up against the wall, so there's floor space in front of it. Against the far wall sat the desk I sat at nearly every night during high school. Unlike those days, it wasn't covered in papers but was still cluttered in the same fake plants and photo frames from back then.

    Beside my desk was a bookshelf, filled to the brim with books I'd loved in high school. Even the way the books were organized hadn't changed. All though, I'd run out of bookshelf space at some point, and now, beside the bookshelf, sat a tower of books.

    "Seriously, it's like nothing's changed," He continues, examining the string of fairy lights that still hung behind my bed, with photos pinned to it. That was the only thing I'd updated out of everything in the room. Well, more like Lizzie updated it. She printed me out a bunch of new photos a couple of months after our first Christmas without Wyatt, helping me replace any picture that he was in, "except..."

    He pauses, glancing back at me. He wore a slight frown now, his eyes sunk with guilt. "Everything has." I finish his sentence for him, shrugging my shoulders.

    "Marley," Wyatt stepped over to me, shaking his head. His gaze held mine, making it hard for me to look away, "I know it's way overdue, but I'm really-"

    "Marles, Wyatt," Skye cut off what Wyatt was going to say, rushing past my bedroom. She wore PJs identical to mine, "come on. We're going to read the night before Christmas."

    "We're coming," I nod, looking back at Wyatt, "what were you saying?"

      Wyatt takes in a breath, hesitating, "it's nothing," He finally says, shaking his head, "We shouldn't keep Skye waiting."

❄️

    "Yes!" Harper cheered, holding her hands out for Wyatt to high-five. We all shushed her, Skye and the twins went to bed hours ago, and the rest of us decided to bring back the Christmas Eve game tonight tradition. We spent the last few hours competing in various games like Pictionary, guess who, and now Charades. We kept track of our points on a whiteboard that mom usually uses to write down the weekly schedule.

    "If you wake the twins, you're helping them fall back asleep," Lizzie threatens, waving the baby monitor in her hand. The twins were still peacefully asleep in their individual pack and plays in Lizzie's room.

   "You're just jealous 'cause you lost," Harper sticks her tongue out at Lizzie childishly. Lizzie and dad were on the same team and had come in third. Beating Mom and Nikki, who came in fourth, and beaten by James and I, who came in second. Only a single point away from winning.

    "I think it was rigged," I announce, "I mean Wyatt's an actor, isn't playing charades like his job?"

    "True," James snaps his fingers, pointing at me. He and dad also wore dinosaur T-shirts like Wyatt's. "I think it's only fair that we deduct a few points."

    "Ha, ha," Harper fake laughs, shaking her head, "Nope. We won, fair and square."

    "Hell yeah we did," Wyatt cheers, he and Harper sharing a high-five. It was humorous how seriously we all took this, considering there was no physical prize. We all just enjoy the bragging rights and satisfaction that came along with winning.

    "No, they didn't," James mouths, shaking his head. Lizzie and I both laugh, nodding our heads in agreement. I was going to miss this when I went back to the city. There would be no more game nights or competitions, no more sisterly heart-to-hearts, or snuggles with Iris and Elliot when they've just woken up from their naps and were still sleepy.

    I'd be alone again, friendless in the biggest city in the world.

    "Alright, it's nearly midnight," Mom stands up from her spot, empty hot chocolate cup in hand, "we should all head to bed now... Skye is going to be up bright and early to see what Santa brings her." Mom winks. "Marley, can you grab Wyatt a pillow?"

    With Lizzie, James and the twins sleeping in her old room. Wyatt was sleeping on the couch in the living room tonight, again. He didn't seem fazed by it at all, though, "Sure," I nod, following everyone else up the stairs. Lizzie and James both shoot me tired smiles as they quietly enter her old room.

    I grab a pillow and an old quilt from the wardrobe at the end of the hall before walking back down the stairs to Wyatt, "are you sure you're gonna be comfortable down there?" I ask him, eying the couch.

    "Oh, yeah," he nods, nonchalant, "I honestly slept super great last night. I'm used to travelling, so I'm not too picky on where I sleep."

    There it was again. He slept super great last night. I know it probably has nothing to do with me, but I can't help but feel like it does. And if it did, does he remember it? Or had he slept so deeply he can't?

    "Right," I nod, placing his pillow and blanket down. "Well, should probably go to bed now. Night Wyatt."

    "Merry Christmas, Marles,"

    My nickname slipped out of his mouth so easily, so effortlessly. When he'd said that the other night, anger bubbled through me, it felt wrong hearing him call me that. Now, it made something flutter in my stomach, but it wasn't anger. Instead, I was surprised and shocked at how okay I felt about it.

    Wyatt must've mistaken my shocked expression with a confused one because he explains, "It's past midnight."

    "Oh, right" I nod, thankful that the only light in the living room is the Christmas tree. It's dark enough that Wyatt can't see the pink that's beginning to coat my cheeks, warmth flooding through my face, "Merry Christmas, Wyatt."