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My heart stops and the room seems to go quiet. “What did you say?” I ask him, not believing my ears.
I meet his steely gaze, twinkling with a hint of mischief, as he repeats, clearly and confidently, “How about you spend the rest of the year being my fiancé?"
I turn fully toward him, realizing at the last second that everybody around the table really had gone quiet. They were all listening in. I don't have to look to know that they're all watching us. If I know my mom and my aunt and Griffin's parents, they're not even trying to hide it. They're just openly staring.
I'm staring, too, but at the ring box in Griffin's hand. My heart races knowing what he’s asking and not believing it.
I look up into his eyes. "Are you serious?"
"I want you to be my real wife," he says with a grin. "No pretending."
I take a second just to look at him. This man is something out of a movie. He's something out of a dream come true. Who meets a girl in a bar and then hires her to work at that bar and then falls in love in that same bar? Who proposes on Christmas Day in front of both their families?
Griffin does.
"Yes," I tell him, the word breathy and rushed. All at once, time starts up again and I throw my arms around him for a kiss.
Everyone at the table cheers and we’re embraced by their happiness as I kiss him again and again. “I love you so much,” I tell him in between kisses.
“I know, and I love you too,” he whispers against my lips and as I smile, I can feel his smile too.
There’s a round of congratulations and hugs and of course, tears. This time of happiness.
"I can't wait to tell everybody at my knitting group!" my mom says and then leans closer to Griffin’s mother to put a hand on her arm. "They're going to love this story."
* * *
The End
