Most families spend Christmas in their PJs all day long, but not us Chambers and Olivers. We treated Christmas dinner like it was a big event, dressing up to the nines in our fanciest clothes. I hated this tradition when I was a teenager and a kid. I'd never felt as confident as Lizzie. This tradition always made me feel insecure in a way. So, when we stopped doing it after the Olivers left. I never really missed it.

We'd spent the majority of our morning and afternoon taking our time opening our presents and playing around with all the toys that Skye and the twins received. Now, I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom, behind my sink. Much like the rest of our rooms, Lizzie and I's bathroom was the exact same. Behind our double sinks were faded gold mirrors, and the cupboards were painted a faint lavender colour.

I took Skye's hair out of the braids we'd put in this morning, allowing her red hair to cascade down her shoulder, slightly waved. I picked out her dress for her. It's a deep red shade with thick tank top straps. Underneath it, we paired a black turtleneck. I pin back some of her hair with a black bow, "All right, you're done."

"Yay," Skye claps, smiling brightly, "thank you, Marley."

"Of course," I brush my fingers through her waves, smiling at her through the reflection in the mirror. For the last half an hour, as I helped Skye get ready for our Christmas dinner, it'd been just me and Skye. I know how important moments like these were. I've missed so much being away. She's growing up so quickly. "Go downstairs. I'll be down in a minute."

Skye nods, rushing out towards my room and then out the door. I'm partially ready. My hair was in a high ponytail with the front strands pulled out, framing my face. My makeup is done my simple everyday routine. All I have to do now is put on my dress.

My dress was burgundy, with puffed sleeves. The dress's skirt flowed slightly above my knee, tight around the top. I bought it a while ago and had never had an excuse to wear it until now. For the first time ever, I'm excited about our fancy Christmas dinner. Something I never thought possible.

Mom and Nikki were both finished bringing all of the food to the table as I walk down the stairs. Both wore black dresses, their hair tied up. Dad, who's helping them carry everything in, wore a pair of grey dress pants with a matching jacket, pairing them with a white t-shirt underneath.

"Yes!" Harper cheers as I entered the dining room. Everyone else was sitting at the table, all except Wyatt, who I assume is still upstairs. Harper's wearing a cream-coloured off-the-shoulder sweater paired over a brown corduroy skirt. She's sitting in-between Lizzie and Skye, with James on the other side of his wife.

Unlike Harper, who cheered when I entered, James mutters under his breath, annoyed. He's wearing a white button-up, the top few buttons undone. While Lizzie wears an emerald green dress that made her green eyes pop. Her hair is waved slightly, her lips lined with her signature red lip colour.

"They made a bet," Lizzie explains, rolling her eyes, "Harper bet that you'd be down before Wyatt."

"Ooo," I nod my head in approval towards Harper, taking the seat across from her, "What'd you win?"

"10 dollars." Harper smirks, "someone had been confident that you'd take longer than Wyatt. But he's a celebrity, aren't they like, notorious for being late."

"That's actually a really harmful stereotype," Before any of us could reply, Wyatt interjects, walking into the dining room. He's wearing a black turtleneck paired with a pair of black and white striped dress pant. He didn't bothered putting any gel in his hair, allowing his curls to fly around wildly. He looks good, though, as if he were heading to some fancy event that wasn't Christmas dinner.

"You let me down, dude," James shakes his head, disappointed, "I was going to split the ten dollars with you and everything. I know how badly you need it."

"I'll make sure I'm early next Christmas so we can win," Wyatt reassures James, taking the seat beside me.

Next year? It hadn't occurred to me to even think about what next Christmas would be like. I guess, in a way, this seemed like some sort of one-time thing. That next year, Wyatt would spend his Christmas in LA with London at her mansion, and we'd go back to searching for new traditions to replace the old ones.

"Alright, everyone," Mom, Nikki and dad entered the room. Bringing in the last of the food. Mom and dad both sat at the end of the table, Nikki taking the seat beside mom, "let's say grace."

We all duck our heads as dad says grace, and then it's time to dig in. Mom and Nikki made everything traditional Christmas dinner food you could think of. We'd be eating leftovers for the next few days due to the quantity of them. It wasn't long until we all began talking, memories of our past Christmases flying around the table.

"Do you guys remember my first Christmas with you guys?" James asks, laughing as he does, "when Harper got the remote-control plane and flew it right into Liz's forehead? We ate dinner at the hospital cafeteria."

Lizzie and Harper both share a look, laughing. I remember that Christmas well, Lizzie had been stressed, even though we'd all met James and loved him. She wanted everything to be perfect. And the day had been, up until she had to get stitches on her forehead.

"Oh, I remember," Lizzie shake her head, shooting Harper a teasing look, "still got the scar to prove it and everything."

"Hey," She holds her hands up defensively, "I'm not the only one who sent someone to the ER on Christmas. Remember the peanut butter incident."

I look over at Wyatt to find he's already looking back at me, a smirk on his lips. None of us had known Harper was allergic to peanut butter. It was Christmas Eve, and the two of us, much like today, woke up to make breakfast for everyone. We were young at the time, so all we did was make peanut butter toast.

Harper broke out in a rash. In all of our Christmas photos from that year, she's covered in red splotches, her eyes swollen, "In our defence, none of us knew you were allergic," Wyatt reminds Harper, saying exactly what I'm thinking.

"What about the Christmas we burnt Christmas Eve dinner?" Mom asks, laughing. We all do too, it had been so bad the fire department came. Our house smelt burnt for the entirety of Christmas, no matter how many scented candles we'd lit.

"Oh, yes," Nikki nods, smiling, "the beginning of the Chinese food on Christmas Eve tradition. What was it that he said..."

"If it's good enough for the Jews to eat on Christmas Eve, then it's good enough for us."

Wyatt and I spoke in unison. His dad said that joke often, every single Christmas Eve, when he'd pick up Chinese food for us. When he was searching for food that Christmas eve, he remembered a friend of his who's Jewish. It was a tradition for many people who celebrated Hannukah to get Chinese food on Christmas Eve. So, we started doing it too.

"Tom to the rescue," Lizzie shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. It seemed he was always coming to the rescue for us. Whether it was rushing to grab dinner on Christmas Eve or taking me to daddy-daughter dances when my dad had the flu. Tom Oliver was always fixing things.

The mere mention of Tom causes silence to fall over the table. A sombre one. It was easy to get caught up in the moments, laughing and talking about Christmases past, but then there was that reminder, we're not all here.

"He would've loved this," Nikki spoke after a beat of silence, a sad smile on her face, "I'm sad he can't be here, but I know he's watching down, laughing along with us."

I look over at Wyatt again. His eyes are focused on his plate. A solemn look on his face. He's fidgeting with the gold rings he wears on his fingers, his knee shaking slightly. We all miss Tom, but none of us could ever imagine the pain that Wyatt and Nikki are feeling. Without thinking too much about it, I reach my hand over to Wyatt. Interlocking my fingers with his.

We'd done this a lot as teenagers. When things got sad, I could always count on Wyatt reaching over and bringing me back down to earth. Wyatt's hands were soft, his slender fingers connected with my own like a missing piece of a puzzle. I intended on letting go as soon as I gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, but Wyatt held on tightly, absentmindedly rubbing circles on my hand with his thumb.

I didn't expect holding Wyatt's hand to have the same effect on me that it did when we were younger, but it seemed we'd both comforted one another at this moment. Wyatt still had the capability to make me feel better after all these years.

...

After dinner, we all gather around the living room. The light of the tree brightens the room, as well all sit in a circle. Holding our Secret Santa presents for one another. Instead of doing Secret Santa this morning, with our other gifts, we decided to leave it until after dinner.

We go one by one, starting with Skye. She had Lizzie and had gotten her a new tube of her favourite red lipstick, a planner covered in red lips and a handmade coupon for free babysitting for the twins. Lizzie went next, handing her gift to dad. She'd gotten him a golf bag with his name embroidered on it.

Dad, who had mom, goes next; he got her a gift certificate to the spa. Mom gives James his present after that, she gives him a weekend pass to the local ski lodge. So, he and Lizzie can have the weekend to themselves while she babysits. James has Harper. He gives her a new phone case and a vinyl for her record player.

"Okay, Harps," dad claps his hands. I could tell Harper was dreading giving her gift to Wyatt, "you're up next. Who is your present for?"

"I just wanna say," She starts, standing up from her spot on the floor, "I bought this present when I was still unsure of this person. If you had asked me to buy this present yesterday, I probably would have put more effort into it."

"You got me?" Wyatt asks before Harper can pass the present over. He's laughing, shaking his head.

Harper sighs, "yes... and it's more of a joke gift than what everyone else is giving one another. I feel kind of bad."

"Don't be," Wyatt waves his hand in the air before holding it out for Harper to pass the gift. He opens it carefully, laughing slightly as he gets a glimpse under the paper. He doesn't look annoyed or disappointed like Harper feared he would.

"What is it," I lean over to get a peek at the present. It was a DVD, for a movie I'd never seen before. Wyatt's face was plastered on the cover of it. Harper had taken the paper out of the plastic sleeve and doodled all over it. She'd given Wyatt a fake mustache, devil horns, and a goatee. Then, at the very bottom, where his name was, she crossed it out. Sprawling her signature across the bottom instead. Wyatt opens the disk, revealing one of our old home video DVD's, titled, "Harper's dance recital."

"Do you hate me?" Harper asked, biting her lip.

"Harper," Wyatt laughs, shaking his head. He looked genuinely so excited, like a little kid who just got told they were going to Disneyland, "this is the greatest gift I have ever received. Thank you."

"Of course," Harper smiles, her shoulders relaxing, "okay, you're up next."

"Right," Wyatt stands up on the floor beside me, rubbing his hands together anxiously, "Uh, it's kind of big, and I didn't know how to wrap it... so uh, Marley, can you close your eyes?"

Wyatt has me? I'd been so worried about getting him for Secret Santa. It was almost ironic that he got me. I shut my eyes tightly, holding my hands out, waiting for him to place whatever he got me in my hands. Finally, after a beat of silence, Wyatt clears his throat, "Alright, you can open."

My eyes land on the gift as soon as I open them. It's sitting in front of me, with a bow taped to the top of it, a typewriter. I could tell it was vintage by the way the keys were fading. It was a cream colour that had faded to look more yellow over time, "you remembered," I look over at him. I always wanted a typewriter. There used to be this one at the pawnshop in town. I'd saved up for years, and when I finally had enough money for it, someone bought it.

"Of course, I did," Wyatt shrugs, as if it was nothing. It wasn't, though. Somehow, after all these years, he remembers everything. The way I take my coffee, my favourite snacks, and my dream of owning a typewriter. They were such small things to remember, but things I never expected in a million years that Wyatt would. I was so sure he'd pushed all of it away.

"Wyatt, this is amazing." I shake my head at him, running my fingers over the keys. I could see it now, sitting in my room in the city, my fingers typing away on the worn-out keys. I never thought I'd get a typewriter, they're so expensive, and I can't afford to make such a big purchase on top of my rent. "Seriously, thank you."

A warm shade of pink spread across Wyatt's cheeks, "I'm glad you like it."

I love it. I wanted to start writing immediately, and I would tonight when I was back in my old room. I finally tore my gaze off of Wyatt, reaching for my gift, "Alright, I guess I'm next," I stand up, walking over to Nikki, who's sitting beside my mom on the couch.

Nikki takes the gift from my hand, smiling as she pulls the ribbon off, opening the small box. A slight gasp escaped her lips as she pulled the necklace out, her fingers tracing along the letter engraved in the pendant. Tears were beginning to well her eyes as she looked up at me, "Marley, this is beautiful. Thank you."

Nikki stood, pulling me into a tight hug. I rest my head on the top of her, holding her just as tightly. When I first arrived home for Christmas break, the Olivers were no longer family. They were strangers, intruding on our holiday. Things were different now, though, and despite how I felt days ago, I didn't want them to change again