New Year’s Day: A Lancaster Holiday Novella (Lancaster Prep)

I WATCH Summer and Wren lead our children into the front living room, where we’ve chosen to hold our annual New Year’s Eve party for the last couple of years. When I was a child, my parents had the party in the grand ballroom. Hundreds of people would come every year—it was a much-anticipated party by the social set. My parents went all out with the food and drink and entertainment.

Eventually when their marriage was in trouble, my mother—God rest her damaged soul—would use the party as a weapon, spending as much money on it as she possibly could. My father would retaliate by fucking a random party guest in a bathroom or closet, hoping Mother would find him.

My parents were a disaster together. I vowed to myself—and to my wife when I married her—that I would never do that. Besides, I’m too obsessed with Summer to even think about anyone else.

I also couldn’t give two fucks about New York’s high society and having them in my home for a bullshit party to ring in the new year. I much prefer inviting my family and real, actual friends to celebrate with. Who wants to schmooze with a bunch of phony assholes?

Not me.

“Darling, would you please change the music?” Summer asks me with a sweet smile on her face.

I flash her a wolfish grin and pull out my phone, scrolling through the various playlists we’ve created over the years. “Of course, darling. Coming right up.”

We call each other darling in front of the kids because it sounds nice. We know how to be proper in front of children and mixed company. Behind closed doors though?

We’re still pretty goddamn wild when it comes to…fucking.

I choose a playlist full of songs I know every one of my three children will find something to like, even August, and turn up the volume. The music fills the room, the younger children all screaming their excitement loud enough to make me wince. They run to the middle of the room and start dancing, looking absolutely ridiculous as they shuffle their feet and wiggle their bodies, but they’re having the time of their lives.

And the party has barely begun.

After a few minutes of discussing food matters with Marta our housekeeper, Summer approaches me. I reach for her, slipping my arm around her slender waist, my fingers settling on the bare skin of her back. Her dress is made of soft black velvet and covers most of her body with the exception of her back.

Very chic, my wife. And extremely sexy.

“Is it wrong to say I’m not sad that our original guests can’t make it because of a snowstorm?” Summer tilts her head toward me, resting it on my shoulder for a moment. I catch her scent and my dick twitches.

The timing is all wrong, but maybe we could sneak off later and I can fuck her in a coat closet or something. God knows we have enough closets in this monstrosity of a house.

“No, it’s not wrong.” I tighten my hold on her and pull her in closer. “Looks like our new party goers are already having a great time.”

“They are.” Her smile is wistful. “I adore them.”

“They’re a wild bunch,” I say in agreement, because they are. And I adore them as well, especially our own.

“They’re all getting so big.” Her voice is full of sadness, my least favorite thing of all time. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to ease my wife’s melancholy.

Thank God it doesn’t happen too often.

“They are.”

“August is…a lot.” She sighs, her gaze lifting to mine. “And I think we’re raising some well-adjusted children.”

I chuckle and press my lips to her forehead in the briefest kiss. “He’s a Lancaster and the oldest male. His shitty attitude comes naturally.”

“His attitude isn’t shitty, he’s just so…” Her voice drifts.

“Judgmental?” I raise my brows. “Thinks he’s above it all? Sounds familiar.”

“This family name sometimes feels like a curse,” she murmurs, her brows drawing together with worry.

“It’s not a curse.” This time I kiss her lips, savoring the sweet taste of her. “We’ve changed the course of every one of these children’s lives in this room right now. Look how happy they are. Look at Christopher.”

My sister Sylvie’s son is laughing and smiling, having fun with his cousins. The fact that she’s a mother still shocks me and she’s been one for a while now. This was a girl who was abused by our mother. Who stated quite loudly and as many times as she could that she would never be a mom.

Now she is, and she’s a good one too. Christopher is the same age as our youngest Vaughn and they’re extremely close.

“He looks like Spencer,” Summer murmurs and I nod my agreement.

“And look at Carolina’s children.” The twins are wearing matching sparkly gold dresses, their blonde hair pulled into high ponytails. “Carolina used to hate people. She especially hated all of us.”

My gaze goes to Carolina who’s standing with her husband West on the other side of the room near the fireplace. They look happy. No, even better, they seem content.

Growing up, none of us were able to feel content for any length of time. Not with our overbearing mother and rarely present father. Too bad he’s not here to witness this, but he’s currently in the Bahamas with his latest girlfriend—who is younger than Carolina—ringing in the New Year on his yacht.

Some things just never change, and I can’t blame my father for that. He tried the best he could. He’s made up for a lot of his bad behavior from the past these last few years. We’re closer than ever, and he spends a lot of time with my children. With all of our children.

It’s the least he can do. I draw the line at him bringing his girlfriends around the children, though. Since they’re interchangeable, what’s the point?

“You’re right,” Summer says, her voice drawing me out of my thoughts. “I shouldn’t say it’s a curse. Our generation has changed the Lancaster attitude for the better.”

“Indeed, it has.” I tuck her close, pressing my lips to her cheek before I fully kiss her on the lips.

“Daddy!” I feel a tug on the back of my suit jacket and I pull away from my wife’s irresistible lips to find our daughter watching us with an imploring gaze.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her, turning so both Summer and I can face Iris.

She is the spitting image of her mother, though she’s in that awkward preteen phase where it feels like she’s all limbs and awkward with it. She’s also constantly running into things, as if she’s unable to control herself. Summer said she was the same way and I can’t even imagine it. “I think August snuck a glass of champagne.”

My gaze cuts to the bar where I see my oldest son standing in front of it, sipping from a glass that looks very much like champagne.

“And he gave one to Row,” Iris whispers. “Who’s only ten.”

“Oh dear.” Summer pulls away from me, her expression full of alarm. “I’ll go talk to him.”

She’s gone in an instant, leaving behind a very pleased looking little sister who just ratted on her brother.

“Thank you for telling us.” My voice is firm, my gaze locking on my sweet daughter’s beautiful face. “But can I—warn you about something?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She nods, her eyes wide.

Bending down, I get on her level, reaching out to cup her soft cheek, cradling the side of her face for a brief moment. “No one likes a snitch, sweetheart.”

She blinks at me. “What do you mean?”

“Just…don’t tell on your big brother every chance you get, especially as you get older. He’s an ally, not your enemy.” My hand drops from her face and I rise to my full height, Iris tilting her head back, watching me with a confused expression on her face.

“If he’s doing something bad, shouldn’t I tell you about it?”

“Well…yes.” Being a parent is complicated sometimes, Jesus. “But he’s your brother. And you need to stick together with your brothers. As you get older, you’re going to need them in your life. You’ll value that relationship because no one knows what it’s like to be you—what it was like, growing up in your household. Only your brothers will truly understand.”

Iris wrinkles her nose. “They’re boys. They’re totally different than me. And look at him. He’s drinking champagne and he’s only fifteen!”

She sounds outraged, which makes me smother the laugh that wants to escape with my hand. “There’s no harm in it. Not really. We’re at home. He’s surrounded by family. One glass isn’t going to ruin him forever.”

I think of a time when I drank champagne with a certain beautiful fourteen-year-old and I was completely enchanted by her. The moment I met Summer, it was as if lightning struck me where I stood. I was electrified, never the same again.

And look at us now. Married with three children. I wouldn’t change this life for anything. Summer is without a doubt the one for me. Just like I’m the one for her.

Iris is gaping at me, shocked I would say such a thing. “What if I had a glass of champagne?”

“You’re too young.”

“But Row had one.”

“And now it’s gone.” I turn to look at the bar to see Wren with the glass of champagne in her hand, Row standing beside her wearing a sullen look on his face. I turn to study my daughter once more. I’m glad I only have one girl. I love her and am terribly protective of her but if there were two?

I would be a mess.

“Augie doesn’t like me.” Iris crosses her arms, a pout on her pretty face. “He’s always telling me to leave him alone. He never wants to spend time with me.”

“Well, he’ll never want to spend time with you if you’re constantly telling on him,” I point out.

Iris drops her arms at her sides, pursing her lips. “That makes sense.”

“I know.” I tap my temple with my index finger. “I’m a smart guy sometimes.”

She laughs, launching herself at me and I wrap her up in a hug. “You’re a smart guy all the time. I love you.”

I squeeze her close, cherishing her sweet hugs. Her sweeter words. “I love you too, my pretty little flower.”

Iris tilts her head back and I bop her nose with my index finger, making her laugh. “I’m going to go talk to August. Maybe he’ll be nice to me.”

“You tell him I said he has to be nice to you,” I say sternly.

She rolls her eyes. “But won’t that make him hate me more if I told him that?”

So logical, my girl. “Yes. You’re probably right.”

“I’m just going to act cool. Like I wasn’t the one who got Row in trouble.” Iris pulls out of my arms and they immediately feel empty. “Bye.”

I watch her head for her brother, my wife returning by my side and my chest suddenly aches.

“I hate that they have to grow up,” I murmur.

Summer leans her head against my shoulder, a sigh leaving her. “I hate it too. Why can’t they stay little forever?”

“Because we can’t fuck around in the house behind closed doors forever,” I say with a faint snicker.

Summer lightly slaps my chest. “You’re bad.”

I dip my head, my lips right at her ear. “You love it.”

A sigh escapes her just before I kiss her. “I do.”