Penny takes my hand, “Please, give me another chance. Don’t leave, or if you do, take me with you.”
“I wasn’t leaving.” I say, squeezing her hand, “I admit I was a little shocked at how your mother acted, but this isn’t about me. I knew you had to fight your own battles.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the jewelry box. “Though it doesn’t mean you couldn’t use a little backup.”
“What’s this?” She asks, taking the box and pulling at the thin navy ribbon.
“When I saw it downtown and figured it was fate. It’s the exact pendant you described as the Amulet of Luck. I know it’s silly?—”
Penny lifts the necklace, her eyes light up as it dangles between us, “It’s not silly. It’s beautiful andsoverysweet.” She smiles, “Will you put it on for me?”
“Of course.” I pluck it from her fingertips, and when she turns her back to me, I gently drape the chain across her neck and secure it. The gold necklace practically glittering against her bare shoulders.
Penny twirls, throwing her arms around my neck, pulling me into a kiss. “Thank you,” she whispers against my lips, the vulnerability in her voice twists inside my chest.
“For what?” I ask, gliding my palm up and down her back.
“For sharing a little of your Christmas magic with me.”
“I have more than enough to share, thanks to you.” I lower her to the ground, my hands going to her waist.
“Oh, that reminds me.” She slips out of my arms and rushes over to her suitcase, pulling out a small ornate hardwood box covered in stars. “I might have gotten you something too.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Inside the box is a set of seven polyhedral dice nestled in a bed of black velvet. Each piece mimics a nature scene, complete with trees, green vines and tiny purple flowers suspended in the clear resin with bright gold numbers painted on each side.
“I figured you could use them for your next druid.” Penny picks up the d20 and turns it before putting it back in its spot. “Honestly, I’m surprised Elsie kept it secret. We were texting for most of the week trying to figure out which kind to get, and then we found these at The Fairy Market.”
“These are perfect.” I smile, kissing her forehead.
“Does this mean you want to do this for real?” She asks.
“It’s always been real for me, Princess.”
“In that case,” she pauses and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, “can we get out of here? I’m not feeling in a holiday party mood.”
There’s no way in hell I can say no to her gorgeous face. I want to lean down and press my lips against her neck until she giggles and pushes me away.
“Are you sure? It’s going to be over two hours back to Madison.”
“I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”
We packand quietly leave the party, spending the drive back to Madison singing along to the radio and playing twenty questions. Once in the city, we stop by the local corner grocery store to grab a tube of cookie dough and pick up takeout from the closest pizza place still open on Christmas Eve.
Back at my townhouse, we spend the rest of our evening in the kitchen, babysitting the cookies while eating pizza and watching the last half of The Wizard of Oz on the local TV station.
For the first time in so many years, it feels like Christmas. I never needed the perfect house, the snowball fights or to be surrounded by people to rekindle a familiar sensation. All I needed was Penny. We can create our own traditions, cut out our own peace in the stressful season and slowly invite the rest of the world in, not the other way around.
“Next time, we’re getting way less pepperoni.” Penny says, covering her mouth as she chews.
Next time. I like the sound of that.
She looks like a goddess sitting on my kitchen counter, her dark blue dress fans out along her full thighs. She crosses her ankles and picks the pepperoni off of the rest of her slice then stacks them on the paper plate.
“Not the biggest fan of pepperoni? Noted.” I push off the countertop and settle myself between her knees.
Penny lifts her slice of pizza up to my lips as an offering, “Here.”
I take a bite, nodding as I chew, “We have the leftover pizza, the cookies and it is,” I glance over at the clock over the stove,“nearly midnight, and there is only one thing that can make this night better.”
