"The boys won't be coming for Christmas, princess, I'm sorry."

I never expected those words to have such an impact on me. They literally broke my heart, and with growing horror and amazement inside, I was just discovering how dependent I had become on my brothers and how much I wanted and needed them.

After my mom and grandma died, I got it into my head that no star would ever brighten my Christmas again. I even thought I had come to terms with it. And then, exactly one year ago, I felt this indescribable relief when the company of my brothers managed to anesthetize my pain that was inevitably to come during this heavily family-oriented season. Therefore, now a feeling of uneasiness was nestling in the back of my head. It had germinated in early December and was gaining strength with each passing day. I was enjoying the company of my dad and even my grandmother and Benny, but I was worried that not only would I miss my mother, but it would make me sad not to be with the boys. I was afraid of this sad stupor that I didn't want to fall into for anything.

And today, when I finally came to my dad to ask how our Christmas would be this year, he shared this sad news with me.

"Vince has to work, Will won't leave him, and the others don't want them to spend Christmas alone, just the two of them. Do you understand, princess?"

I nodded my head that I supposed I did, but I couldn't get a word out. My throat tightened and I concentrated on keeping my face in front of my father.

In the days since that revelation, I've tried to convince myself that it's okay, that Christmas with dad, grandma, and kind-of-grandpa will be great, too. I have to admit that on the outside, I wasn't very successful in replicating this self-induced excitement. I was down and out, and what made it worse was that I hadn't heard from my brothers for a good few days. My father said that we would definitely have a video call together, but that was little consolation for me. It was a bit sad that our bond, felt so strongly by me, was looser on their part. I felt the rejection that had accompanied me at the beginning of our relation. And that, despite my illusions, I was still not one of them. Because they were there, and I was here.

I often went to the beach. The murmuring waves helped me wash away all my fears. I breathed in the crisp, salty air that cooled my overheated brain. This is what I needed, so the day before Christmas I decided to go there in the morning.

Of course, my mini-trip couldn't take place without Sonny, who had taken over from my dad the habit of guiding me on the slippery steps that led from Blanche's garden to the cove. So my bodyguard walked in front of me, and I stared at his broad back clad in navy blue windbreaker, almost tripping as my foot stepped on the sand instead of the next step.

The weather, for December, was wonderful. Sure, the breeze coming in from the water had no mercy, but the sun, shining fiercely today, definitely made up for it. The beach was traditionally empty. I pulled the hood of my thin, purple jacket over my hair so I wouldn't look like a witch later when the wind had already blown it away, and headed for my regular, favorite spot to ponder. It was right next to a sandy rock that I liked to lean against, albeit with considerable reserve (ever since I saw something like a spider disappear between its crevices).

I chewed passionately on my own lips, gazing out at the boundless ocean. Such vast, open waters seemed cruelly threatening to me, though I feel that I managed to sort of befriend them during my stay. Unfortunately, they couldn't comfort me with words, which is probably what I needed, so once again Sonny's presence was a plus.

My bodyguard always kept his distance so that I would have that substitute of privacy, while at the same time being ready to spring into action at any moment. Fortunately, such action was almost non-existent on this island, and if this were a movie set in that category, viewers would probably turn it off after just a few minutes.

I usually came to the beach to read, talk on the webcam, text, and a few times even sketch something. This time, however, I was staring ahead visibly distressed, and that was probably why Sonny decided to talk at me.

"Are you okay, Miss Monet?" he asked, and I immediately threw him a surprised look. He usually did his best to remain professional and didn't socialize with me when there was no need.

He stood next to me, closer than usual, his hands in his pockets and his expression as focused and serious as ever. I must have made a really depressing impression if he spoke to me.

"Mhm," I nodded politely, at first not intending to step out of my role as the Perfect Miss Monet, but I soon realized that here was a chance for me to talk. Sonny nodded as well and, not wanting to pull on my tongue, moved to walk away and leave me alone as I added melancholically: "Do you like Christmas?"

For a moment he looked like he would seriously rather run away than answer that question, but after a moment he pulled himself together and shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't."

And this is something new. I tilted my head with interest.

"Never?"

"I don't associate them well."

"Oh. I'm sorry" I nodded in understanding, though I didn't understand anything.

Sonny must have known, but he appreciated my tact, because he smiled slightly at me.

"So you don't get any time off? No rest from me?" I asked, trying to sound a little joking, and Sonny snorted softly, giving me an amused look.

"I think you're the one who would like a break from me, aren't you, Miss Monet?"

I opened my eyes wide.

"No, it's not that," I protested quickly. "It's just that, you know, Tatiana, for example, flew home."

The bodyguard nodded, still a bit mockingly, but then became serious.

"I don't need the free time now, because I don't have anyone to spend it with anyway. It's better to earn an extra penny. And I won't disdain the Christmas bonus."

I felt sad again at those words. I furrowed my eyebrows, as if intense thinking alone could invent Sonny's loved ones.

"Wait, you don't have anyone? No family, no friends?"

Sonny pressed his lips together and glanced at the ocean, but before I could apologize for prying, wave my hand, and back away, he answered me.

"I have a daughter."

My head shot up and my eyes hung on the man's face, now stony and tense. His irises shimmered with the cloud of emotion that must have accompanied him every time he brought up the subject.

"I didn't know," I muttered, I don't know why I was so surprised since, if I were to think about it, I didn't really know anything about my bodyguard's biography. I only knew his age. "Wait, she must be very young, right?"

"She's like three years old. Lea. Her name is," said Sonny, still staring at the water. I knew why. The sight of it could do wonders. It soothed the most shattered nerves.

"Cute name," I commented, smiling to myself at the mere image of a three-year-old blond-haired Lea, Sonny's female miniature.

"A regular one," he shrugged his shoulders, and the momentary joy left my face. "I didn't choose it."

"You're not close to her," I announced out loud, a sort of inference drawn from his behaviour and the fact that he spends non-stop following me around.

"She lives with her mother in Chicago. I work at your place. I don't have time to travel," he explained.

"Chicago is not that far from us. And if you asked Vince for time off from time to time, wouldn't he give it to you?"

Sonny shrugged his tense shoulders again. On the one hand, I could sense that he didn't want to talk about it, and I thought about letting it go and prying into things that weren't his, but on the other hand, I could see how a part of him urgently needed to broach the subject. I don't know about me, but if we're spending so much time together, we might as well discuss it more than once.

"I have a contract with your brother. One of the conditions of this agreement was my unlimited availability," Sonny cut him off and then added more quietly: "It's not just that. I don't get along with her mom. It's better if I'm not there."

"But don't you... don't you miss her?" I asked, lowering my hands.

Sonny took a deep breath and took his hand out of his pocket to rub his forehead and scratch his head in the process. It was as if he was making desperate gestures just to delay the moment when he would answer my question.

"I don't... know. I don't know her very well. I send them money, quite a bit, just because of this job. Miss Monet, in this case, it's probably better that I don't get involved...."

I ran my hand over the smooth sand, leaving a mark on it. Before I spoke, I thought carefully about what to say.

"I don't know how it looks in the eyes of a parent, but I can speak from the perspective of a child," I started. "I would give a lot to have my father present during my childhood. Even if it was against my mom's will. I believe Lea will think the same way someday."

Sonny's eyes bore into me for a long moment for the first time since the conversation began. Someone would've thought that I had just told him some bizarre secret, like that I turn into a big green ogre after sunset. But I just told the truth in a serious and confident voice.

Suddenly I felt a little silly. Who did I think I was to lecture him? I don't know his history, maybe I was too hasty with my advice? On the other hand, was it even advice? After all, I was only giving him another point of view. His daughter's point of view. I wish some person in the past had done the same with my father. Or my mother. I'm pretty sure Lea would thank me for that.

"I want to go back," I muttered out loud so Sonny would know we were gathering to go home. I just suddenly felt like seeing my dad instead of the ocean. I'll try to wring some Christmas cheer out of myself. Maybe I'll offer to make a cake.

I got up and started shaking off the sand. The sun had already started to set slowly, so I should get going anyway. I had an unwritten ban on wandering around in the dark. Even with a bodyguard. Yes, yes, that's right, another prohibition. A person can really get used to that.

Sonny didn't speak again. I hoped he wasn't mad at me and didn't think I was a snooty little girl. Even if he did, he didn't show it in any way. He just politely climbed the stairs right behind me, probably immersed in his own thoughts.

I walked towards my grandmother's cottage and smiled softly at the sight of the fairy lights already glowing in the distance. They were shimmering in different colors. They twinkled, and just looking at them brought the familiar Christmas melody to my ears. A few days ago, my father and Benny had hung them around the front of the house, a bit haphazardly, without a specific plan. They didn't have a very developed sense of aesthetics, at least when it came to decorations, and Blanche was completely useless in this subject. I tried to give them some good advice, observing their work with my young, feminine eye, but they did not follow all of it. My perfectionist soul suffered a bit when I saw the result of their work, but I tried to relax and not point out their shortcomings. Besides, another part of me thought there was something charming in the contrast between the Monet residence in the States, which was elegant and well-kept in every way, and Blanche and Benny's seemingly crumbling mansion with its aura of disorder all around.

Grandma had already chased me out of the kitchen several times when I looked in there to offer her help. I couldn't stand the fact that a blind woman shouldered the responsibility of preparing a Christmas dinner, even if it was only for four people. I assumed that, despite her familiarity with her kitchen, she had difficulty with many of the tasks, because she had been sitting in it for a good few days now, non-stop shoving with only a few interruptions. She only let Benny in there. I thought that was silly of her, because I really could have helped her get things done faster.

"She has her whims and likes to have everything her own way," my father reassured me, caringly stroking my back when I sometimes complained to him. "Don't worry."

She didn't like to clean and was happy to use me in this field, although I couldn't do much here either, as we had a cleaning lady visiting us regularly. She was not a full-time housekeeper like Eugenie, but here she was keeping the house relatively clean.

As a result, the only properly festive activity I did was decorate the Christmas tree. One day Benny brought in a large coniferous tree, which he and dad then set up in the living room, next to the TV. I was given a stool, several cardboard boxes stuffed with ornaments, and complete freedom for my creativity. In my life I have never seen so many different colored, glittered and not, glass, plastic, fabric trinkets. I was matching them all day long and at the end I really wanted to hang myself on the Christmas tree together with the baubles, that's how exhausted I was.

My father complimented me on the end result for what seemed like an eternity. Benny said they'd never had such a beautiful tree, and Grandma rolled her eyes and walked away, putting a knowing smile on our faces that for some reason we all tried to hide.

The only drawback was the big, beautiful, golden, battery-operated star that shone with a warm, bright light all over the room and that should have stood on top of the tree, but whose stand was broken, so that it fell on the floor already twice.

The third time it fell on Christmas Day when I came downstairs in the morning still in my pajamas. Normally I loved Christmas morning because as a child I always rushed to get presents. Mom used to make tea and serve me breakfast almost on the floor when, too excited to take a seat at the table, I would sit next to the tree amidst torn gift paper, enjoying my new toys. A year ago, my brothers had shown that Christmas was celebrated a little differently under their roof, meaning, for example, that no importance was attached to presents there at all, which this year my father emphasized greatly when I asked if I could go into town to buy some stuff so that I wouldn't feel bad about not having anything for anyone.

There were some packages under the Christmas tree, but they were styrofoam dummies, wrapped in red glossy papers and with green ribbons tied in perfect bows. I knew this because I had arranged them there myself yesterday. I didn't care much for presents, certainly not when I lived with a family that was ready to shower me with them on cue any other day of the year. But I thought it looked nice to have something sticking out from under that tree.

Back to the star I found on the carpet, lying right next to the Christmas tree. It must have fallen during the night. Or maybe Blanche poked the tree as she walked by, ignoring the consequences. That would be a lot like her. It didn't matter, so I just walked over and bent down to pick it up, listening for any sounds that might be echoing through the house. Silence. Benny was the only one here who liked to get up early, but he had been staying in the garden since morning. I assumed he hadn't changed his habit because of the holidays. After all, on its occasion we were to sit down to dinner together, not breakfast.

I didn't see dad around either, so I just sighed quietly and looked at the star that was now shining in my hands. I ran my finger over it and began to think about what I could do to make it hold more firmly on the tip, ending up analyzing my Christmas morning that had just begun. It wasn't as wonderfully warm and family-style as I'd hoped it would be, but I tried to get it into my head that everyone celebrates Christmas differently and I had to adjust and not be unnecessarily sad.

Then I raised my head to measure the top of the Christmas tree with my gaze. I had to put that star back on it. I was too short to reach, so I needed a stool. I looked around for it. It had to be here somewhere.

"What a midget you are."

I thought at first by the voice that it was my father making fun of me, but it was highly unlike him, so I turned around shocked to see that it was actually Dylan. He was standing at the threshold of the living room entrance and grinning mischievously at me.

Wait a minute, Dylan?

"Dylan!" I called out, far too gleefully than I could later admit.

Still with the gold star in my hand, I dashed toward him. I slung my arms around his neck. It was really him, here! Big as ever, wearing a dark green sweatshirt that hugged his muscles, which also nicely accentuated his now amused brown eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, little girl. I know you adore me," he sneered, but he embraced me for a moment and then ruffled my hair.

I was so happy that it didn't even annoyed me.

"And the others? Did they come too?" I asked. I stared at him expectantly, not even trying to hide my hope.

"Does it matter?" Dylan shrugged his shoulders dismissively and pointed to himself. "The important thing is that your favorite brother is here."

"No way, Will is here!" I exclaimed in disbelief.

Just then I heard more voices from outside and my eyes, which had moved behind Dylan's back, lit up with even more excitement. I slipped past him and rushed to the porch, tearing through the annoying wall of beads that hung in the front door.

I had just experienced the scene where the twins were greeting our dad and making room for Will, who was walking toward us from the car. His hair blew to the left, he wore black sunglasses over his eyes, and a wide smile that showed a row of even, white teeth worth millions. Dressed in a blue polo shirt and light pants, he looked relaxed and ready for a little time off from work.

"Hey, little girl," Shane winked cheerfully and tugged at a strand of my hair. I only cringed, but didn't respond to the taunt as I gazed at the adorable scene unfolding before my eyes.

Cam opened his arms wide, pulling Will towards him. My brother removed his glasses in one fluid motion, revealing his sky blue irises. The aura of fatherly love that accompanied the meeting of the two of them was so strong that it almost beat with a radiance that blinded everyone around them. They stayed like that for a while in a strong embrace, and then dad rubbed his back and walked over to Vincent.

Vincent! He was here too! In the flesh!

He was the last one to get out of the car. His dark hair was not disheveled as much as it should be after such a long trip. Maybe it was due to the good gel, or maybe even his own hairstyle did not dare to disobey him. Smoothly shaven and pale, his gaze was sharp, his jaw clenched and his brow slightly furrowed, signaling that despite his relatively loose (by his standards) clothing of a black sweatshirt and dark pants, he was still on guard.