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“Well, that’s true, but don’t worry about more than one for now; you still have to get through this one.”
She stays silent for a second, clearly thinking about that. “This is true.”
My heart explodes when Marc opens the door in his navy top and dark-wash jeans and bare feet. I feel the heat hit my cheeks from the flush he gives me. The handsome man standing there is all mine.
“Holy shit, Gracie.” Ava hits my arm playfully.
I giggle and whisper, “Told you.”
She gapes at me and softly shakes her head. “Damn. Good for you. You deserve this.”
After the way I grew up, I know she’s right. I do deserve him and this life I’m living.
“I just wish you lived in Chicago still,” she adds.
“I know, but this is home now,” I say, stepping into his house and kissing Marc.
He’s my home, my orbit, and I’m not leaving for anyone or anything.
Epilogue
Gracie
“Wherearewegoing?”I ask, touching the silk blindfold.
“A surprise.”
I pout. “That’s no fun.”
“It will be worth it. I promise.”
He grabs my hand, and I sit back in the leather seat, trying to relax in the car. His scent is so much stronger now that my sight has gone. It makes all the other senses work so much harder.
A little while later, the car stops, and he unbuckles my seat belt and takes my hand to help me out.
When I stand, I dust my dress down, hoping I’m all in place. I can’t see it, so I can only judge by how it feels.
“Let’s take this off,” he says, his hands grazing my temples as he slides the blindfold off.
I blink and adjust to the light. He stands in one of his navy suits and his white shirt with a navy tie. As he grabs the door, I notice the diamond cufflinks are ones that I recently bought him as a birthday gift. He is one of the hardest people to buy for and luckily this year, he was only thirty-nine. What will I buy the guy who has everything for his fortieth?
Inside the restaurant, I see a large wooden bar. The high ceilings in New York are my favorite part. This place is exquisite, the roof being all glass. And the chandelier hanging over the middle screams expensive. Marc walks us to the bar, and he pulls out one of the tall wooden and gold stools for me. I still don’t know what he’s doing as we both take a seat. Are we having dinner here?
The bartender comes over and asks us what we want to order.
“I’ll get two whiskey sours, please,” Marc says, and I smile.
The bartender walks off and Marc faces me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, tilting my head.
“We’re at a bar, having drinks.” His smirk makes me wonder what his plans are.
The bartender brings the drinks and Marc asks for nachos, hot wings, and fries.
I chuckle to myself and whisper, “Are you trying to replay our Christmas Eve together?”
He leans in close to my ear, whispering, “Well, it is Christmas Eve.”
