“And it’ll probably feel great,” Poppy adds, teasing.
Scottie snorts. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
Poppy smiles at the phone, and I get the sense she understands Scottie better than I do. “Hey, I’ll be in South Carolina in a couple of weeks. Any chance you’ll be around?”
“I’ll be there,” Scottie says. “Have fun, guys.”
“Bye, Scottie,” we say, ending the call.
I stow my phone, and the rumble on the platform tells me the train is about to fly into the station.
“How do you do that?” I ask, kissing Poppy’s forehead.
“Do what?”
“Listen like that? Help like that?”
“I didn’t do anything,” she says, and it makes me hold her closer. “But you thinking I’m special is my favorite thing, so don’t stop thinking it.”
We move up in the line before stopping again, and I give her another kiss. “Not possible. You are made of sunshine, Poppy Grace.”
She beams.
Twenty minutes later, we’re finally on the Mistletoe Express, and Poppy immediately claims the window seat.
“I thought you preferred the aisle,” I say, settling in beside her.
“That was before I had someone worth sitting next to.” She laces her fingers through mine. “Now I want to see everything.”
The train lurches forward, and she presses her face to the glass like a kid, watching the Colorado landscape roll by—snow-covered pines, frozen rivers, mountains that look like they’re straight out of a Christmas card.
I should be watching the scenery too, but I can’t stop looking at her.
The way her eyes light up when she spots a deer. The way she squeezes my hand whenever something beautiful appears. The way she turns to share every moment with me, like she can’t fully experience joy unless I’m experiencing it too.
A week and a half ago, I got on a plane thinking I was going home.
Turns out, I was trying to find it.
“What are you smiling about?” she asks, catching me staring.
“Nothing. Just enjoying the ride.”
She smiles and settles against my shoulder with a contented sigh.
As the Mistletoe Express carries us through the mountains, Poppy keeps up a running commentary—excited about the scenery, the holiday decorations on the train, the hot chocolate the conductor promises when we stop.
And I realize this is what I want for the rest of my life.
Not the grand gestures or the perfect moments.
Just this: going through life with Poppy.
Every day. Every journey. Every window seat and aisle seat. Every delay, pit stop, and terrible diner meal.
All of it.
With her.
