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He laughs, “Absolutely not.”
This makes me think about one of the surprises under the tree.
I turn around in Harley’s arms and nestle in the warmth of his big protective body and say, “I like that idea of exchanging books or something sweet on Christmas Eve. In fact, I have something that qualifies in that category.”
Harley looks down at me, puzzled. “You just happen to have something like that already wrapped for me?”
I roll up onto the balls of my feet and kiss him on the cheek. “Sure do. Come on.”
I take my husband by the hand and lead him over to the tree. We sit down cross-legged, each of us wrapped in our bathrobes.
Under the tree is an assortment of gifts for the two of us. And there is one special one I want Harley to have right now.
I place the plain craft-paper rectangular box on his knee.
He smiles like a little kid and shakes it near his ear. Adorable.
“Um, I didn’t get you anything small and cute,” he says, scratching his head. “So, just pick whichever one you want.”
Laughing, I grab one wrapped in pink paper with a pretty, sparkly bow because it makes me smile.
“Suzy wrapped it. Not me, obviously,” he says, referring to his sister.
“I wasn’t going to ask,” I laugh, tugging and tearing at the paper. When I get it open, it reveals a small box. When I open it, I find a $300 gift card to my favorite beauty boutique.
“Thank you, baby,” I say, biting back the urge to scold him for spending so much. Instead, I thank him with a kiss, our swollen lips never getting enough. “You open yours now.”
Harley smiles, works the twine off the package, and finally unwraps it. He opens the small box inside and pulls out the photo album.
He turns it over in his hand, examining it. Recognition dawns. “Wait, this is the photo album we started when we first moved in together,” Harley says. He looks up at me, confused.
“Yes, it is. Open it.”
My sweet, darling boy slowly thumbs through the album, looking for whatever the gift might be. “Did you hide a clue in here? Is this a scavenger hunt? Because I’m not great with clues.”
“No, baby. Keep looking, you’ll see it.”
Harley thumbs past our moving day, our first weekend away at the lake. My first time fishing. The bathroom renovations at Hilltop House.
I wait, wringing my hands, doubting whether this surprise is a good idea.
Finally, Harley flips over the last page and sees the folder that I’ve attached.
“What is this? Am I being served papers?”
I snort. “No!”
He slowly opens the folder, careful not to let it tear along the metal rings binding the album. He tugs at the papers inside the folder and stares at them.
“Is this…paperwork?”
“Yes,” I say, holding back laughter.
“Wait…this says Department of Family Services.”
Harley turns his gaze to me.
“It’s an application to adopt,” I say. “I filled out my half. The rest is for you. If you’re ready.”
