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I’m already wondering about the country house idea as well.
Maybe we’ll have to split our time between the city and the country. Holly seems to have taken to all this more than anyone I’ve seen before, including my own efforts. But we’ve got time to talk all that over.
The butterflies in my stomach remind me that there’s one thing that needs to be discussed before anything else.
I just need to find the right moment. I thought Christmas Eve would be the easiest, though, the perfect time.
The most romantic time.
Little did I know just how much she’d rather help others than try and enjoy everything herself.
Once we’ve both helped cook, carve and serve enough turkey for half the city, it seems, it’s finally time to head home.
Sister O’Halloran and the team thank us for a job well done. And they’re going to do it all again tomorrow as well!
I manage to convince Holly they can survive Christmas day without us and that we can and should have the time to ourselves, which she readily but wearily agrees to.
Already asleep in the car again before we get home, I slip Hank his Christmas bonus envelope before repeating the same thing, carrying my girl upstairs to bed.
“We’ll be taking a little break, Hank,” I let him know before he goes. Telling him he has until the first week of the New Year to himself, and I know he has enough cash to tide him over through it too.
“You’re too kind, Mr. Carter,” he says, eyes damp with emotion. But it’s the season for giving, and I should never have forgotten every time Hank was there for me all those years ago.
Holding Holly close in the elevator, it dawns on me.
I’m me again. I can remember everything from when I was a kid right up until I was mugged, met Holly, and now it’s like I have clear sight for the first time ever.
The future is so clear to me now as well. Our future.
Quietly opening our door, I lay her gently on the huge couch by the fire, stroking her face as she mews a half-asleep ‘I love you’to me.
My hand moves to my breast pocket, and I find myself fidgeting.
Nervous for the first time in decades.
Someone’s laid out an awful lot of Christmas food on the dining table, but I can’t eat. Not at a time like this, and not because it’s all I’ve been looking at most of today.
I pace the whole penthouse repeatedly, ruffling my hair and chewing my lip. Even gnawing at my nails. Something I never do.
Why is this so hard? It should be the easiest….
“Steve? Steve, where are you?” I hear Holly call out.
Glancing at my watch as I dart back to the living room, I can see it’s past twelve.
Christmas day, officially.
“I thought you’d gone up to bed or…,” she says, but noticing the look in my eyes, she stops, asking if I’m alright.
“I’ve never been better,” I exhale. I instantly set down on my knee in front of her once she’s sat up, rubbing her eyes and blinking.
Even making the face I know I did when she sees all that food.
“What is it then?” she asks, sounding concerned now.
I swallow hard, trusting my gut and my heart on this one.
Willing to hedge every bet, every deal and everything I own on this one word I’ve longed to hear from her since I first laid eyes on her just a few days ago.
