Page 61 of Unwrapped

“Oh? You’re ready to move in this weekend?” I laugh and roll my eyes at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to move into my little basement apartment? The rent’s cheap. Really cheap in that I don’t pay any.”

“As charming as I find it, I have a much bigger place. A place where I don’t have to worry about your parents catching us, but that’s not what I want to discuss. You do know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, right?” I stop breathing and look from my chip into his eyes.

“I want that, too.”

He visibly relaxes and lays a hand on top of mine. “Good. As you know, Uncle Joe is coming back next week, but only on a part-time basis. We got hired to design and build a community of townhomes. We need someone to decorate the model homes and be a project manager.”

“Oh, okay. Sounds good, Nicky.” The waiter comes with our entrees, shrimp tacos for me and steak for him. I pick up one of my shrimps and offer it to him. He takes it, licking my fingers in the process.

“I was thinking after you graduate, you can come work for Bain and decorate the models when needed, and you can also manage some projects. We’re growing and will need someone to handle that, and I thought of you.” It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. Caught mid-chew, I drop my taco on the plate. It opens up, spilling the contents all over the place.

“Um, you know I only decorate as a hobby, right? My degree is in management, but I have no idea how to manage a construction project. And you can’t possibly want to live together and work together too.”

“We’ll hardly be the first couple in history to do that. And so what if it’s just a hobby? Lots of careers start off as hobbies, and I can teach you the other stuff. Just think about it. And I want to do more than live with you. Miranda Bain has a nice ring to it.” He winks at me, and I smile at the thought.

“I agree. It does,” I say, blushing. “I’ll think about the job.”

“That’s all I ask. And think about this. When we have kids, you’ll have all the flexibility you need, and so will I.”

I swallow just as he says the last part, and I start to cough. He reaches over and taps me on the back, but I can see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Kids?” I reach over with shaking hands and drink my ice-cold water. “Did my mother put you up to this?”

“No, but this is what happens when you fall in love with an old man.” He reaches and takes my hand again. “I want everything with you. I’m not saying we need to have kids tomorrow. I think I can wait a couple of years.”

“You’re full of declarations today, Stinky Nicky. You better put a ring on it.” I lift my left hand and wave it around like Beyoncé.

“I’ve got you, baby. Come back to the office. You haven’t said anything about decorating for Valentine’s Day.”

“Are you serious?” I ask as I look at him.

“As a heart attack. This will be the incentive we need to take down the Christmas decorations.”

“Yes!”

EPILOGUE

NICK

FOUR YEARS LATER

She steps into my office, dressed in a red dress with a wide, black belt around it. The dress reaches her knees and has fur trim at the end. Her legs are bare, as are her feet. I lean in my chair, hands behind my head as I watch her approach. She moves a lot slower these days.

It’s been four years since the best Christmas surprise of my life. Four years of loving, laughing, fighting, and making up. There hasn’t been a day that we’ve spent apart since we went public with our relationship.

I pull my chair away from my desk to give her space. If this were any other time, I’d grab her and pull her into my lap, but I have to be a lot more careful now. I offer her my hand, and she takes it, slowly walking around me to get on my lap. I pull her to me as I kiss her round stomach. I lay my hand on top, but she grabs it and moves it to the side. I’m unable to stop the laugh that bubbles in my throat at the feel of the kick.

“She’s been kicking me all afternoon,” she says.

“She? The last time I checked, Mrs. Bain, we decided not to find out the gender.”

“Well, Mr. Bain, call it a mother’s intuition. I will not be outnumbered in this house.”

“And what a house it is. What did your father say last week? The North Pole on crackandmeth?” She laughs and rests her head on my shoulder. With our growing family, we moved out of the townhouse into a much bigger home less than one mile away.

Right now, the house is decorated for Christmas, and my wife spared no expense when it came to turning our house into a winter wonderland, fit enough for Santa himself. Her words, not mine.

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