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I force myself to walk calmly into the living room.“Yes, Hollis?”

He’s staring at the lion painting that’s the centerpiece of our gallery wall of art and photos and found objects that we’ve collected over the past year.

“Does this…” He turns to face me and gestures at the painting.“Does this mean what I think it does?”

“You don’t like the hat?”I ask innocently.

While he was outside fussing with the Christmas lights on our porch that never want to stay lit, I quickly attached a cut-out Santa hat on the Hollis Lion’s mane.

“That’s”—he swallows hard—“that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, you mean the other one?”I glance past him at the newly added speech bubble that I placed next to the Liv Lion’s mouth.

“Yes.Does it mean what I think it means?”

“Maybe,” I say.“You know how art’s open to interpretation.”

“‘The word,’” he says quietly.“She’s saying ‘the word.’”

“She is.”

He steps closer.“As in the word ‘yes’?”

My smile escapes my attempts at staying calm and collected.“Yes.”

“Yes to the standing offer?”He’s smiling too, and it’s gorgeous.He’s so impossibly gorgeous.

“Yes to the standing offer.”I slide my arms around his waist.

“You’re going to marry me.”He says it like he’s testing the sentence, saying it out loud to see if it holds up.

“Yes,” I say.“I’m going to marry you and Luke and snake-hips Santa and the hot waiter and the good son and the amazing brother and the incredible boyfriend.I’m going to marry all of you.”

He slides his hands in my hair and kisses me until I’m dizzy, then picks me up and starts toward the bedroom.But he only makes it a few steps before he spins back and tilts me so I can grab my phone.

“Text your folks.Tell them we’re getting a late start tomorrow.”

“Oh?”I smile up at him.“Why’s that?”

“Because our engagement celebration’s going to take all night.”

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