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I did, however, start wearing the ring he gave me on our wedding day.
When Christmas morning came, I was almost certain I’d be up before Damian due to my Christmas excitement, but to my surprise, when I rolled over, he was no longer in bed. I sat up and stretched out before stepping into my slippers and hurrying out of the bedroom. I smiled as breakfast aromas hit my nose.
It smelled like fresh pastries and happiness.
As I walked into the kitchen, I found Damian standing in front of the oven with an apron covered in flour. His back was toward me, and he hadn’t heard me enter.
“Merry Christmas!” I exclaimed, making him jump a little before he turned to face me.
“You scared me.” He smiled and walked over to me. Wrapping me in his arms, he pulled me close to his chest and placed his lips against my forehead.
Butterflies formed in my stomach.
Ocean kisses.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered, holding me tighter. It felt like more than a friendly embrace. Or maybe that was what I’d hoped for—more than friends.
“I thought you’d still be sleeping in,” he mentioned, heading back to the oven to check on his creation.
“Oh, no. Sleeping in on Christmas was never a thing. When I was a kid, I used to wake Kevin up at four in the morning to open gifts. It’s always been such a special time for me. But today, I did sleep in a little,” I said.
He arched an eyebrow. “It’s four-thirty in the morning.”
“I know!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe I slept so long. Speaking of, what are you doing up?”
“Well, I was finishing part of your Christmas present.” He frowned. “But now everything else isn’t ready. I was going to make you a whole breakfast spread.”
“That’s fine! It smells delicious, though. What is it?”
He reached into the oven with oven mitts and pulled out a tray of scones.
Homemade blueberry scones.
“I didn’t think that Christmas was falling on a Saturday, and the bakery already stopped making holiday orders weeks ago. So, I couldn’t get you your Saturday scones. I figured I’d try my hand at making them.”
My heart…
“You made me blueberry scones?” I asked, stunned.
“Yeah. I’ve never made them before, so I did a few test runs when you were at work last week, but I think I got it down. They aren’t as good as Jerry’s, but—”
“You practiced making scones for me?” I cut in.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to give you crap as part of your gift.” He grimaced and pinched his nose. “But, honestly, I was going to wrap them in a nice blue box and make it presentable. I should’ve considered you might wake up early and—”
Before he could finish, I was standing in front of him, placing my lips against his, kissing him hard, trying to fight the emotions sitting behind my eyes. “This is the sweetest gift ever.”
He laughed. “It’s just scones.”
“No. It’s definitely more than that.”
I kissed him again, seeing if it was more. More than friends. More than an arranged marriage. More than…
He kissed me back, wrapping his arms around my lower back. His fingers massaged my skin, and my hands fell against his chest as we stayed interlocked.
“How bad would it be if I took you back to bed for a little while?” he asked.
I smiled. “I could rest a little,” I replied, coy.
