Page 96 of Love in the Lab
“My nieces destroyed it,” he mutters, “along with all my energy.”
We’ve been in Ohio for two days now, both filled with a lot of family time, which for Jonathan means a lot of high-energy games with Charlotte, Hannah, and Mia. For me, it means time chatting with Tamara and Sharon.
I’m so glad Jonathan and his dad are on better terms now, because I couldn’t dislike Sharon if I tried. She’s quiet, but witty. She comes up with the perfect zingers at the perfect time in the conversation, surprising everyone. It’s clear how much she loves Pete and treats his family like her own. She was married twenty years before her husband passed away from an early heart attack, but they never had children, so her relationship with Pete gives her the chance to step into the role of grandmother. She’s very good at it, judging by the number of cookies she slipped the girls yesterday. Actually, all that sugar probably explains their insane energy levels.
Today, we’re seeing even more family members. I’m told that Christmas dinner, which kicks off in the early afternoon at Tamara’s house, is big and loud and includes Jonathan’s grandparents—Pete’s parents—as well as aunts, uncles, and cousins. More kids, and if they all demand Jonathan’s attention the way his nieces do, some extra sleep this morning really is crucial.
Leaving my husband snoozing, I take a shower and get dressed. Christmas with my family growing up was a casual day—it was just the five of us, so we wouldn’t dress up or do anything fancy for our Christmas dinner. Not so for Jonathan’s family. Jonathan described the attire for the big family Christmas dinner as “business casual.” I wear a pair of black slacks I bought for Vegas, along with a white cowl-neck sweater with threads of silver woven throughout it.
I quietly open the door to the guest bedroom when I go back in to put my pajamas away, but Jonathan isn’t here anymore. The bed is made, and lying at the foot is a beautiful hand-knit stocking, dark green with an ivory cuff and my name spelled out in sparkling gold stitching.
I duck my head out into the hallway to see if Jonathan’s loitering nearby, but I can’t find him. I text him a picture of the stocking instead.
Molly:
What’s this?
Jonathan:
Your Christmas stocking. For you to open at your leisure and in private
He remembered what I told him about memories of opening my Christmas stocking when I was a child. My chest fills with warmth. Of course he did. That’s Jonathan. He’s thoughtful and sweet and so good at taking care of me. I suppose I need to get used to these acts of service.
Molly:
How did Santa find me [wink face emoji]
Jonathan:
Christmas magic
I know I told Jonathan how much I used to relish opening my stocking while my sisters were distracted—the peace and magic I felt going at my own pace and inspecting each item—but I find that now there’s something I value more than that solitude.
Molly:
Come upstairs and open it with me
Jonathan:
Are you sure?
Molly:
Yes
I want to share this moment with him, share every moment—big or small—with Jonathan for the rest of my life. I know that was the point of getting married a month ago, but it’s hitting me now, being here with him and his family on my favorite day of the year, that my relationship with Jonathan, our marriage, is really real. Intensely real. I get to spend my life with this handsome, charming, attentive man, and he loves me.
By the time Jonathan cracks open the bedroom door and slips inside, my eyes are brimming with tears as I stand next to the bed.
“Hey,” he says softly. He’s still dressed in the flannel pajama pants and T-shirt he slept in. He steps toward me and cups my face in his hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I sniffle. “I just really love you.”
He grins. “I love you, too, Carrots. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” I repeat. Jonathan tips his head down and kisses me tenderly.
The warmth in my chest spreads throughout my entire body. I increase the pressure of my lips on his, and he eagerly echoes my intensity. Jonathan slides his hands off my face and down my arms, finally looping them behind my back, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. When we break apart, we both need a minute to catch our breaths.
