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‘Do I have a stocking?’
‘Why don’t you stop asking questions and see for yourself?’
He sets me down in the bedroom and there at the end of the bed is a neat little bundle. I give a squeal and race towards it, lifting it up and giving it a little jiggle. ‘Well, it’s not Lego.’
He shakes his head at me, his eyes dancing, and I’m hooked on his whole body. He does look delicious as Santa.
‘You want to open it or are you going to continue eating me with your eyes?’
I’m so excited. I tip it upside down on the bed and out falls a small square box.
I’m still. I don’t think I’m even breathing.
No...it can’t be.
The red velvet seems to throb up at me from the deep grey sheet and I... I don’t know what to do. I almost daren’t open it. I don’t want to get my hopes up, I don’t...
I look at Jackson and he walks towards me, his eyes sincere.
‘Caitlin Carey...’ he pauses before me and lowers himself to one knee ‘...will you do this reformed Grinch the honour of becoming his wife?’
‘Are you serious?’
He takes up the box from the bed and opens it for me. At its heart is the most exquisite ring, its cluster of diamonds shaped to form a snowflake, and it’s beautiful, oh, so beautiful. My vision blurs as I hiccup on a cry.
‘I know we’ve not been together long, but you’ve always been the one. From the moment you fell in my lap six years ago, it’s been you and only you.’
I’m too stunned to speak. Of all the things I expected, wished for even, this is so much more.
‘If you need time, that’s fine. I just want you to know how serious I am. And if you’ll have me I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know I love you.’
I stare down into his face and see all his love shining back at me and smile through the tears.
‘I will marry you...on one condition.’
His brows lift. ‘Anything.’
‘You wear this every Christmas. Or a variation thereof. You make the most delicious Santa. I’m quite—’
My words are cut off as he launches to his feet and swings me around, his lips crushing mine.
‘You’ve got it. So long as you return the gesture?’
‘Oh, I think that can be arranged.’
He lowers me to my feet and slips the ring out of the box and onto my eagerly awaiting finger.
‘Merry Christmas, Elf-to-be.’
‘Merry Christmas, Santa.’
* * *
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