Okay so next chapter will be the last, I'm working hard on your Christmas present finale as we speak. Thanks for all the M words over the years, I'm slipping them in where I can.

As always, enjoy x

Christmas Eve, 6.00pm, Rockefeller Center, Midtown Manhattan, New York City

"Remarkable." Harold exclaimed at the well-lit, gaudy Norway spruce tourists and locals alike flocked to see. It wasn't the Christmas tree that took his breath away, but the new eyes he saw it with. Hand in hand with Zoe Morgan, who stood chest-to-chest with her nine-month-old baby girl in a custom-made Artipoppe Zeitgeist Baby Carrier, he felt the warmth of mulled wine in his chest; mulled wine, love and the joy of the festive season. Zoe felt the protection of material comfort and all Harold's largesse could provide, as well as the satisfaction of having a baby on her terms and in her time. And even though it would be another four years before ZCM Consulting relaunched and she was knee-deep in the sewage of a celebrity scandal, her mother Calista had found enough time between Shavasana poses to wish them a Merry Christmas.

"Truly." She replied, feeling victorious.

8.30pm, Galah Apartments, Washington Street, West Village, Manhattan

The blister on the back of her ankle was a sign that putting in her 20 years of service wasn't the clear-cut idea she once thought it was. Her body was speaking back and telling her clearly it was time to get out of the field. But how, when Capt. Noguerra had shot her last application to hell, and she wasn't in the rest of the Force's good graces? If this was last year, she would've hashed this out with her mother but Joss didn't have the heart to spoil 'Ev & Greg's Great London Escape', as their Facebook photo album called it, with her problems. Then there was CeCe, somewhere in South Carolina spending the holidays without her son or a cousin to share knowing looks and side glances with. The phone call was long overdue and surprising, seeing as CeCe was in unusually good spirits.

"…Josie, I never thought I'd see the day he made good on it."

Joss was dumbfounded that Big Reggie gave her the $10,000 in back child support he'd owed her for years. "And?"

"And what?"

Joss tried to choose her words carefully. "And…what's the catch?" CeCe sighed. "I mean, every time he comes around…you do the dance."

That double entendre wasn't missed because CeCe was well aware of how many times she'd two-stepped, Harlem Shaked, Electric slided and Cabbage patched to Big Reggie's bump-and-grind sheet rhythm. There was something about seeing him in a SUV, with a baby in a car seat, some spit-up on his coach shirt, and a partly-receded hairline that reminded her they were getting older. Grown-ups even. "I know how it looks. But I need that money, and he's still Reggie's father, so I took it. He owes me, remember?" Joss didn't have enough fingers and toes to count just how much. "And I didn't get the chance to tell Reggie 'cause he ran off before I could. Good looking out, Josie."

"Don't mention it. Reggie will understand, he won't like it but anyway…what if he gets the wrong idea? I mean Big Reggie."

"Shop's closed, Josie." She said with the resignation of being the last one off the merry-go-round. "He tries with her. He really tries."

It was Joss' turn to sigh but with relief. "Okay. I'll shut up now."

"Don't. I need to ask you something. Did Mom buy a revenge car in New York 'cause Hamilton swears up and down she's hiding something big and he won't sign the divorce papers without it? Something about community property, which is ironic since he's a cheater with his community-"

Joss vividly remembered the matching diamond and emerald necklace and dangling teardrop earrings from Oculus Jewels on 5th Ave sitting in her mother's safe along with $1,000 in mad money and Evelyn Magnolia Willie-Mae Taylor-Clement's last will and testament. "Nope. Not that I know of."

"I hope it's a Cadillac with cream leather seats, sittin' on dubs."

Joss laughed at the thought of Aunt Cammie riding around Summerville with the wind in her hair and Curtis Mayfield blowing through the speakers; happy for once. As it happened, the jewellery came in handy when she celebrated the dissolution of her third marriage months later with the proceeds from a high-end pawn shop. "Merry Christmas, CeCe."

"You too, cousin."

10.04pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst, Queens

When Paul met Brooke, it was Valentine's Day 2013 everywhere but their group therapy session at the VA. Back then he wasn't much of a talker, and the group setting allowed him to fly under the radar most of the time. Taylor was a few months from his 16th birthday and they'd been in touch for some time, if you'd call it that. He noticed her peek-a-boo butterfly shoulder tattoo from across the room as someone explained why they couldn't stand fireworks. She caught his eye. And two weeks later, they watched the Bulls beat the 76ers 93 to 82 at a local Sports Bar after work and ended with a nightcap – Crown Royal to be exact. A self-proclaimed avoidant with a string of failed relationships and three terms served overseas as a Wheeled Vehicle Mechanic under her belt, she wasn't looking for Mr Right or Forever. Mr Right Now would suffice and Paul fit the bill.

They did a decent job of 'keeping things casual' until the day Joss called with a subdued panic in her voice. He knew her. There was something wrong in how fast the words were coming out despite her even tone. She was cerebral and orderly in advising him on how to take care of their son, but the speed gave her away. Paul knew she was in deep trouble, that she wouldn't let him in to that side of things, and it was a matter of days before Taylor had moved in. And things fizzled out because they would have anyway, and he had something more important to focus on: getting it right this time.

So why was she smoking a cigarette in his living room on Christmas Eve all these years later? So there could be two less lonely people in the Empire State.

"…Maybe it's the service, or maybe it's just me. I've tried that love thing, I'm just no good at it." She took a long drag as Archie Bunker went on a rant on the TV screen.

Paul sipped on the Crown Royal and remembered how much Gina liked that Jill Scott song and sang it off-key like all the others. "Me neither."

"Taylor's the big relationship of your life. That's all that matters. People like us can't make it stick."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't say all that."

"I mean, you already found the one you'll move the Earth for, Paul. Nothing else matters."

He realised she was right. They finished one drink, then two, then three. He stopped himself and remembered why they fell out of touch. "You want some pie? My frat brother got the hookup."

"A Patti Pie?"

"Mmm-hmm. Nowhere near as good as my mom's but…"

"How can I resist that?"

The same way he can't resist a woman's touch, comfort and company. Two less lonely people in New York City. A finished pie, a half-empty bottle of whiskey, a hangover, clothes on the floor, and a mistake he'd spend months unpacking on Susan's couch.

11.20pm, Galah Apartments, Washington Street, West Village, Manhattan

John didn't get the sorority thing, even though Joss had explained the origin story of Zeta Pi Mu at least four times; that it was founded in the late 1950s during the Civil Rights Movement at the small Virginian college where she met Paul. The details were immaterial, but it mattered because it mattered to her. That was why he noticed her brand new royal blue and white t-shirt because the raggedy one from Summerville was long gone. She lay on her stomach on the eight-foot-wide bed that was big enough for a sleepover with Shaq, amused by the celebrity nonsense on her tablet. "I thought you wouldn't make it tonight, being Leon's body shield and all."

He shook his head and second-guessed giving Leon the keys to an unmarked SUV to go anywhere so long as it was in the opposite direction. "Flying bullets, an Armenian Ponzi scheme and some pissed-off investors…nothing I can't handle."

"That's the first thing they teach you at Boot Camp…how to duck."

He took off his reinforced leather jacket. "That's the good news. The bad news is they're all out of marshmallow pie."

"Marshmallow pie? What's that?"

"The thing you like at Christmas." He prompted to jog her memory. "From Crown Heights. The cracker thing."

"No, I like Ma's coconut layer cake. From her kitchen. In Williamsburg."

"But Tay-"

She giggled. "He played you. Makes me wonder what else he told you…"

'John, when are you gonna take my mom on a date? A real date.' 'John, when are you gonna marry my mom?' Rang in his ears. "Like what?" He feigned ignorance.

"You tell me, John." She prodded with her same look on her face she had when she figured out the Machine.

Those blue eyes flashed with inspiration and B.S. "He told me to look after you while he was away."

"Mmm-hmm."

"And to have your back. Always."

"I see."

"Just guy stuff." He left his cufflinks on the dresser.

"Guy stuff?"

"Yeah. Like…John, don't let my mom get shot again. I tried to tell him I can't stop that happening."

She let the silence linger as he undressed, and she slipped out of her royal blue and white and hung the t-shirt over a chair. It was warm and safe under the covers because this was the most relaxed she'd ever been in her adult life, even if the world outside was crazy. And that was all because of him. "He wouldn't be the same without you, John." She thought aloud.

"Don't you mean Greg?" He whispered, thinking that whatever time of day it was, Gregory deserved the fattest slice of rum cake he could get his hands on.

"We wouldn't be the same without you." She said as she closed her eyes.