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Duchess nearly flies into my arms. That tiny Pom can jump.
“What’s all this?” I ask, staring at a slightly disheveled layer cake covered in pink icing. “It’s not Duchess’s birthday until next week! And we have a guest list, a clown, and a specially ordered cake made of dog biscuits?”
Cian laughs. “How can I forget that we’re having a party for a dog.”
I’m grateful to have a man who doesn’t mock my little quirks and occasional extravagances. In fact, he doesn’t belittle any of the things I enjoy.
“No, it’s the first anniversary of the re-do kiss,” he says, pulling me toward him. He locks his lips on mine, and still, after a year, I feel my knees tingle.
“Gets better and better every time,” I say.
Duchess licks my chin, and Cian scolds her.
She yips at him and wags her tail.
“What do you have there?” Cian asks, gesturing with his chin to the other thing I hold to my chest.
“Oh! I almost forgot.”
I hand out the envelope. “For you! But first, before you open it, I have another surprise. I’ve given Ellen and Nando the next few months off, with paid leave, to spend the holiday season with their families.”
“That’s great, but who will be your bodyguard, driver, and handler…”
I give him a sultry wink. “I thought you could handle me if you don’t mind.”
My husband sucks his breath in between his teeth. “How can I say no when you wink at me?”
I need to give him my other surprise before he distracts me with more kissing…and other things. “Open it,” I say, gesturing to the envelope he holds.
I watch, giddy and bouncing, as he examines what’s inside.
“Tickets to Dublin.”
Squeaking so loud that Duchess barks. “For me and you and Dad. We’re spending Christmas in Ireland.”
The look on his face doesn’t tell me if this is a good surprise or an unwelcome surprise.
“We are?”
“Don’t you want to?”
“It’s a tight squeeze over there. Maggie’s got two small bedrooms and a pullout sofa. Dad’s house is even smaller. They don’t make Malibu houses over there.”
I shrug. “I don’t mind. We’re all family now, and we’ll be together. That’s what matters.”
Cian shakes his head and rubs his eye socket with the meat of his palm.
“Is my husband at a loss for words? I might faint.”
Cian says nothing but wraps me up in the best, warmest, most soul-sustaining hug since we reunited a year ago.
Duchess protests and demands to be set down.
Laughing, I set her down on the deck, then my Cian pulls me into his lap on the loveseat, and we watch the sun go down over the Pacific.
In a few months, we’ll be on another ocean, celebrating Christmas. I may not go barefoot, but I have my love to keep me warm.
Always.
THE END
