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I've eaten my weight in cookies, and Christmas dinner was fabulous. My citrus turkey would have had both Mom and Dad proud. If there's one thing I miss about being home, it's fresh citrus picked straight from the tree. There's nothing quite like fresh citrus.
I'm curious as I watch Nick move across the living room, stopping at the tree. It's a big tree, and we haven't put any gifts underneath it. We never talked about gifts, and to ask felt uncomfortable. At the root of the holiday, Christmas isn't about gifts anyway. It's about who you're spending it with. It's about good food and family, love and the future. It's about the calm before the storm of the new year. It's about taking peace and stock of one's life, so I'm surprised when I see Nick reach for a tiny box that’s been tucked into the tree, perched on a branch. It's wrapped in red paper, and I wonder how I didn't notice it before as he returns to sit next to me.
“I got you something.” Nick hands me the gift. “It's small.”
“Oh.” My cheeks burn and I shift uncomfortably. “I didn't—I didn't really get you anything.”
That wasn’t exactly true. I’d picked up a small ornament at the mall and hung it on the tree. I had bought it with the intention of leaving him with a reminder of this Christmas when I left for home. The little glass ornament is crafted into two snowmen standing close. A girl and a boy, red scarf and green, hanging from a glittery white ribbon. The snowmen are stamped with our names and the year. I hadn’t said anything as I hung the ornament front and center on the tree, but I knew Nick had seen it.
Nick leans close, his eyes pinning to mine. “You gave me everything last night, Sadie.” His voice is deep and rough and enough to make me want him again. I squeeze my thighs together and shift again. His dark eyes glitter with knowing, but he commands, “Open it.”
When he tips his head at the box, I smile at him before I set to work at tearing through the paper.
The box is tiny and black. It could be a jewelry box, but I don't think it is. As I slide off the lid and see a shiny new key inside, my heart stutters and my eyes snap to his.
“This is more than just a key to my house, Sadie. It's a key to me. It's a key to spend your life with me.” Those dark eyes watch me as I process his words. “I want you here. I don't want you to leave. Not ever.” He takes my hand into his, holding tightly. “This is my home. I built this house on this land and I want to give this to my kids one day, so I want to stay here. But if you don't, and you want me I’ll consider leaving—”
He lets the rest hang in the space between us, his eyes searching mine. I know that Nick had every intention of living out the rest of his life here in this sleepy Christmas town, on this beautiful snowy mountain. For him to offer to come home with me is everything.
It's also unnecessary. Because this is exactly where I want to be.
I don't think as I throw myself into his arms. He laughs, catching me and holding me close.
Against the stubble on his neck I cry, “Yes! Yes, I'll stay.”
Ohmigawd. I'm going to stay. I'm going to stay here in this sleepy Christmas town, living up on this snowy mountain with this big, rough man in his beautiful house of timber and stone. I’m going to stay here and I'm going to build a life like Mom and Dad had. One that means something. Everything.
I'm going to have babies with this man. I've known him for two weeks, and I know in my soul that this is meant to be. That I was always intended for him, and he for me.
“Yes,” I say again, firmer this time. Emotions rattle in my chest and sound in my voice, but I'm so happy I'm shaking with it.
He pulls back to gaze into my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll stay? Here? In Cottonwood Hollow with me?”
“Yes.”
“You'll leave your life for me?” His voice is emotional and raw and rough.
I press a soft simple kiss to his lips. “All I have is Katie, and she'll visit.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I confirm, and he finally smiles.
And it’s big. So big and filled with so much feeling I can hardly cope. I'm struck by his beauty, by everything about him.
“I love you, Nick.” It’s his turn to kiss me. It’s not soft or chaste. It’s deep and consuming and lingering. And I surrender to every second of it.
“I love you, Sunshine.”
Epilogue
Sadie
Shortly after I moved in with Nick last Christmas, Cottonwood Hollow flooded with the news of Patricia’s quick departure. She left town, fled. Gone. Poof.
