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Once we’re done eating, and we settle back in the car, Mia is all smiles. “Where now?”
I wink. “Wait and see.”
She smiles and settles her hands on her purse in her lap. “Very unfair.”
“You can punish me later.”
“I will,” she promises, and her fingers absently stroke the Chanel logo on the front of her purse.
I have a flashback to the weekend I gave that to her. It was, in fact, our first Christmas.
Our tree is decorated to perfection with red and silver bulbs, twinkling white lights plentiful. It’s beautiful, but it pales to Mia’s beauty and joy this morning. Her hair is wild. Her robe is pink and fluffy. I set the giant white box with the red ribbon on her lap and watch her open it, watch the shock and joy in her eyes. And then the expected panic.
“No, Grayson,” she’d said. “No. I know how much this costs.”
“I know you know. Because you love Chanel.”
“I don’t know how you know that. I would never tell you that because that would be like me saying, hey billionaire boyfriend, buy me a ridiculously expensive purse. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Leslie told me.”
“Oh my God, I’m going to kill her.” She presses her hands to her face. “We were shopping and I told her that one day I’d make enough of my own money to treat myself. It was me talking about my goals. Not about you buying this for me.”
“Do you mind that I bought it for you? I know goals matter, but I wanted to do this for you.”
“It’s so expensive,” she says, her voice quavering with emotion.
I set the box aside and pull her to me. “Baby, I love you. And I have more money than God. I want to spend it on you. And you’re going to have to get used to spending it yourself. You live with me. This is our life.”
“I love you, not your money.”
“I know that, or we wouldn’t be who and what we are together.”
“I don’t know how to get comfortable with the money. I feel weird about it.”
I stroke a lock of hair behind her ear. “Start by enjoying my Christmas gift to you. One of them. There’s more.”
“I did spend some of your money.”
I arch a brow in surprise. “Did you?”
“On you. That damn credit card you gave me was burning a hole in my pocket when I found this item and I couldn’t get it on my own. So, I gifted you with your own money.”
“Our money, baby. Our money.”
“Whatever the case, I want you to open it.” She stands and rushes to the tree, returning to hand me a package.
I’m ridiculously nervous and anxious to see what this woman wanted enough to use that card when she stubbornly won’t use it. I open it to find a pocket watch inside. “Read the engraving on the back.” When I turn it over, I read: A great man is always willing to be little.
“It’s that quote that your father—”
“Repeated often,” I say, the quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson one that my father spoke often when I was growing into the man I am today. “I know,” I say, emotion welling in my chest. “Of course, I know.” I set it aside and pull her to me, holding this woman that is everything to me, as close as I can. “It’s about as perfect a gift as anyone has ever given me but you, you are the best gift of all.”
I blink back to the present and pull the car into the driveway of the church where I was baptized. The church where my parents were married and where I said goodbye to them both. The church Mia and I were to be married in the first time we were engaged.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mia
There are no words to describe how I feel when I realize where Grayson has taken us. It’s special. It’s a part of his family, our family.
“This is where we were supposed to get married,” I say, remembering the day we’d come here to reserve the church and well aware of how much this location means to him. “It’s a special place.”
“It is indeed,” he says, handing me my coat from the backseat. “You might need that. Hang tight and I’ll come around and help you.”
He grabs his own as well, a soft, sleek leather jacket that’s as expensive and fine as the man himself.
Following his lead, I quickly set my purse in the backseat and reach for the door. By the time I’m stepping into the wind of a cold front blowing in, Grayson is opening my door and helping me out. The touch of his hand is firm and warmth slides up my arm, the crackle between us so much more than attraction and sex. The wind gushes again and unbidden, I shiver. Grayson, the gentleman that he always is, steps behind me, and I pop my arms inside. It’s an expensive double-breasted black coat that fits a bit like a dress. I button up and tie the waist, remembering the day he’d given it to me: New Year’s Eve. Only a few days after he’d given me my purse. I’d felt out of my league and confused. Taking the gifts went against my very core instinct. I’d feared, and on some level, I still do, that Grayson would think I could see only his money. I’d feared that he hid behind his money.
