Page 100 of Holly Ever After

“And what about my princess?” Sean grins, shifting to bring down our daughter, Lily, from her throne on his shoulders. She giggles as Sean kisses her flushed cheek. “Daddy loves you, sweet girl. More than there are stars in the sky.”

“Love you!” Lily coos, her little arms hugging him tight, her laughter melding with the night's festivities.

I can't help the smile that splits my face, watching them. My heart feels like it might just explode. This man, this incredible, infuriating man I married, has grown into a father who still manages to take my breath away. He's all the Sean I fell for—stubborn, infuriating, quick to challenge and quicker to joke—but with our kids, he's also everything gentle, patient, and kind. It's him, but amplified, and after all these years, it still gets me.

The fireworks fizzle out, the last of the sparks surrendering to the night, as we huddle close, lost in our own little world.

“Alright, team,” Sean's voice cuts through the post-celebration hush, his hands rubbing together. “Who's ready to see if Santa came by the cabin with some New Year's presents?”

I roll my eyes. He spoils them rotten. He went from a man who didn’t decorate his house for Christmas, to a father that tells his children that Santa comes twice a year, but only to them because they’re extra special. Every year since Ethan was born five years ago, Santa has crept back into our house on New Year’s Eve to leave a little gift.

“Me, me!” Ethan and Lily's voices jumble together, their fatigue forgotten.

Our walk back to the car is a chorus of their excited theories, Sean and I throwing in our own wild guesses, eyes meeting over the top of their heads. Their energy is a living thing, and I find myself caught up in it, wondering just what might be waiting back at the cabin. I never know either. This is all Sean, and he takes pride in it.

We're all buckled in and barely a minute into the drive before it hits—the day's adventures catching up all at once. Their chatter slows, then stops, heads lolling to rest against each other in the backseat.

“They’re out,” I observe, twisting in my seat to catch Sean's eye, his face intermittently lit by the passing streetlights.

“What do you think the chances are they’ll actually stay asleep when we get there?”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Oh, they’re down for the count. Way past bedtime, and all that sugar and excitement? They’ll sleep until morning, no doubt.”

“So, that means we can...?”

I raise a brow, a smirk playing at my lips. “That means, Mr. Colson, we’ll have to check if Santa left something for the two of us.”

“I’m sure he did,” he quips back, his eyebrows doing this ridiculous dance. “I’ve heard through the grapevine we were exceptionally good this year.”

My laughter fills the car, echoing against the windows as we fall into a contented silence, the kind only years of comfortable love can craft. It’s in these quiet moments, amidst the beautiful chaos of our life, that I find myself reflecting on the world we’ve built together.

It hasn’t been easy. Marriage, the real kind, is never a smooth ride. We’ve weathered storms, clashed in a way that would make thunder cower, but we always, always come back to each other. Our love is the eye in the storm, the calm in the chaos. We’re more than just husband and wife; we’re teammates, best friends, and sometimes the fiercest of rivals. But through it all, we’re us. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

The cabin comes into view, our cozy world tucked away from reality, and as predicted, the kids are still out. Sean scoops up Ethan and I take Lily, and we settle them into bed.

The door clicks softly as it closes, and then it’s just Sean’s arms around me, his voice a low rumble. “And then there were two.”

“Two very tired adults who probably should call it a night,” I joke, my body, however, humming with a very different kind of energy.

“Tired? Speak for yourself, baby.” His breath tickles my ear. “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“That’s so. I’ll have you know—”

But his words are lost as I pull him down for a kiss, slow and deep, a spark that ignites the familiar fire. When we part, there’s a new heat in his gaze, his breathing a tad more ragged.

“What was that for?” he breathes, though he’s already leaning down for another.

“For being you,” I whisper, lost in everything that is him.

“Well, in that case…” He doesn’t finish, leading me instead to our room, hands locked like they were always meant to be in each other’s grasp.

The new year might have begun, but time seems to stand still as we cross into the sanctuary of our bedroom. There are no years here, no hours, just the timeless expanse of us.

Nine years ago, we decided to jump off a cliff. We did it, but we did it together.

The End.

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