It broke my heart to hear how alone Mark felt all his life. Raised by an aunt who didn’t appreciate the gift she’d been given. One who, instead, acted like she’d been saddled with her sister’s kid. And to be taken in by a family who manipulated and took advantage of him, followed by years of self-imposed isolation.
I was lucky to have a loving family. Parents and siblings who would drop whatever they were doing to help me. But my family didn’t just love me in the big ways. They loved me in the quiet ways too. The ones that made late-night grocery store runs when I was on my period, and sewed buttons back onto my sweaters before school the next day. The money found and freely given for school trips and college applications and anything I needed to help me succeed.
I’d had a lifetime of love, and Mark had missed out on all of it.
I felt my chin wobble, but I made myself pull back to see his face. “You do deserve it. You deserve every good thing.”
His hands slid down to my waist, his thumbs passing over the fabric of my shirt the same way they’d collected tears on my cheeks.
Mark’s lips tilted up in a soft smile—the one I loved so much—and he said matter-of-factly, “Well, if that’s true, then the only thing I want to deserve is you. I want your sweetness and light. I want to work beside you on the farm. I want your cold feet in my bed and your shampoo in my shower. I want a home and a family with you someday. I want to love you for the rest of my life, Candace. I’m sorry for Sunday when I couldn’t say it back. I couldn’t hear it over my own fears.”
I shook my head as happiness at Mark’s words fought with the shame I felt over my earlier admission. “I never should have told you like that. But it was true then, and it’s true now. I love you. So, so much.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips that spoke of forgiveness and understanding. Then he whispered against my skin, “I don’t want to hide anymore.”
I returned his kiss with one of gratitude and joy. “I can’t wait.”
We sold the last Christmas tree off the lot at Judd’s on December 23. Well, the last one to a customer. I didn’t count the seven-foot tree that was currently in the back of Mark’s pickup truck.
We were closing down the orchard for the season and then setting up the tree in Mark’s living room to decorate that night whileDie Hardplayed in the background.
We’d been ornament shopping earlier in the week, and I’d picked out the tree skirt while Mark selected the multicolored lights.
I wanted to make some new memories with Mark for the holidays, come up with traditions of our own.
Tomorrow would be the second annual Christmas Eve celebration over at Lonely Mountain Winery. Reggie and Aurora had invited friends, neighbors, and local business owners for an evening of wine and appetizers, potluck style. Mark and I were bringing his favorite nacho cheese dip. I couldn’t wait to see the decorations at the vineyard. It would be a chance to dress up a little and eat my weight in cocktail shrimp. I’d also heard there would be a string quartet and dancing on the heated patio. Swaying in Mark’s arms to instrumental covers of Taylor Swift’s songs sounded like the perfect night.
Next on the list of holiday festivities was brunch at the farmhouse on Christmas Day. Mark had joined my family for the last two Christmases, but it would be my first holiday brunch on the farm in a long time.
“Do you want your present early?” Mark asked.
Running my fingers through his soft, dark blond hair, I glanced away from the blinking lights of the Christmas tree and down to Mark, his head resting in my lap. “That would be cheating. Christmas isn’t for two more days.”
He suppressed a smile. “But no one would have to know. You could just open it early.”
I bent down and pressed a quick peck to his waiting lips. “No, thank you. I’ll wait until Christmas Day.”
He groaned, “Such a good girl.”
“That’s right,” I teased, liking the way that sounded a little too much.
Then Mark tugged me down again. The kiss was longer this time. He threaded his fingers through my hair and cupped the back of my neck. I shivered at his touch.
Eventually, he flipped our positions. I was lying on my back while he hovered over me. I squirmed as his strong thighs bracketed my hips, relishing every point of contact and how very secure I felt.
Our mugs of hot chocolate were long forgotten on the coffee table as we touched and tasted. The television screen was black, and the bright lights from the Christmas tree cast the room in a magical, twinkling glow.
“Do you want me to give you your present early?” I gasped out as Mark’s lips traced a line from my sternum to my belly button.
“Yes,” he murmured, the word slurred against my skin. “Always.”
I arched my back, eager for his touch. “So impatient,” I teased.
“I’ll show you impatient.”
Then he placed a gentle bite against my ribs that had me grinning.
I spent the next hour wishing I hadn’t been so determined to wait.
