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“Then she was diagnosed with breast cancer my freshman year of college. I knew it was worse than she was letting on, but I thought we had more time. I came home over the weekends to take care of her, but it wasn’t enough. Three weeks after I graduated college, she passed away.”
“Clementine,” I whisper, bundling her even closer to me. “You’re not alone anymore. Never again,” I promise. “I wish I could have met her. She sounds like an incredible woman.”
“Maybe… never mind,” Clementine says, shaking her head.
“What is it?”
“I was just thinking… her birthday is in March. Maybe… maybe we could take a trip to Indiana to visit her grave? I know it’s far away, and–”
“Of course,” I assure her. “We can go right now. I have a jet on standby.” I start to sit up, but Clementine pushes me back down with a hand on my chest.
“Thank you for your willingness to go, but I think I want to stay in bed a little longer.” The way her eyes flash has me forgetting about everything other than my sexy, insatiable woman.
“Is that so?”
“Mmmhm,” she says with a nod.
“That can be arranged as well.”
Clementine grins, and I lean down for a kiss, tasting her love and happiness and making it my own. We’re going to have a million moments like this one, and I’ll cherish them all.
EPILOGUE
CLEMENTINE
“What kind of tree are we getting this year, Karla?” I ask our six year old. She puffs out her cheeks and looks up at me, her deep brown eyes the same color as her father’s.
“Mmmm…” she hums before letting out her breath in a dramatic sigh. “White pine.”
“That’s racist!” Derek, our ten year old shouts as he races past us and jumps into a pile of snow.
“Nuh-uh!” Karla protests while I stifle a laugh. “That’s the name! That’s thename!”
“I want the same kind we got last year with the crazy branches. Barstool fur or something like that,” Derek says. He scoops up some snow in his gloved-hands, packing it into a ball.
“Balsam fir,” I correct him, keeping my eye on my mischievous boy. I’m always impressed at how much information my kids retain. Usually, it’s embarrassing mom moments or things I definitely didn’t mean for them to overhear, but in this case, they both love Christmas tree shopping.
“Yeah, that one!”
“You better not be planning to throw that at your mother and sister,” Kingsley says, stepping in line with me as we walk through Carlisle’s Christmas Tree Farm. We’ve been coming to the same place every year since that very first holiday Kingsley and I spent together over a decade ago.
“What snowball?” Derek asks, hiding his hands behind his back.
Kingsley kneels down and gathers up some snow, a playful grin spreading over his handsome face. He tosses the loosely-packed snowball in Derek’s direction, missing on purpose. Derek laughs and throws his handful of snow at his father.
Karla giggles and claps her hands, getting in on the fun, too. Before long, the three of them are throwing snowballs back and forth, and then Karla and Derek make snow angels while Kingsley heads over to me.
“Having fun, beautiful?” he asks, wrapping me up in a hug. I snuggle into his embrace, breathing in his spicy, woodsy scent.
“Of course,” I say in a contented sigh. “I love tree shopping. It was our first Christmas tradition.”
Kingsley squeezes me tighter and kisses the top of my head. “The first of many.”
My husband rocks me back and forth, and I know he’s remembering all of the traditions we’ve added over the years. Decorating the tree with popcorn strings, hanging hand-made paper snowflakes in the windows, and of course, lots of hot chocolate throughout the season.
When Derek was born, Kingsley and I started getting each other a new Christmas ornament every year to summarize our favorite memories and highlights. Some years, like when the kids were born, we give each other similar ornaments that are still special in their own way. Most years, however, we have different stories and memories we cherish, and it’s so sweet to hear what things Kingsley treasures.
This year, after setting up the tree, we’re going to take the kids shopping for their own ornaments. If it’s anything like selecting the tree itself, I know my children will have lots of thoughts and opinions.
