Page 57 of Make You Mine This Christmas
“Now you know where I get my spirit,” Brody answers. “Before my grandpa died, I think it used to be. But now, she really tries to put people before things or status. We just do it surrounded by all”—he gestures his hands the same way I did—“this.”
I nod, soaking it all in. We settle in front of the tree on the carpet, a package in our laps. “Me first,” I say. “I think I love giving gifts even more than I love getting them. I didn’t have a ton of time. Usually I’m brainstorming the perfect gifts from July, but...”
“I’ll love it. Because it’s from you,” Brody says, his eyes alight with happiness. He rips into the paper and opens the box, laughing once he spots what’s inside. “My very own Christmas underwear,” he says, holding up a striped pair matching the ones I had on his first day in Holly Ridge.
“A vendor sells them at the Christmas market. You have to ask for ‘the tinsel’ when it’s daylight, but they’re a big seller.”
“Well, thank you. I love them.” His fingers worry at the envelope in his lap. “I went a bit of a different route.”
“Is it tickets for that vacation in February?” I ask, sliding my finger under the flap and ripping it open.
“Not quite.” His bottom lip tucks between his teeth. I unfold the paper inside and stare at the photo, confused.
“This is my mom’s house.” I keep looking. “This is a listing for my mom’s house.” I glance up at him, and his face is a picture of trepidation. “The listing says sold. This listing says sold, in my name.”
“You kept talking about it being the last Christmas in that house. I know your mom needed to sell it to help pay for the place in Florida.”
“You bought my mom’s house?” I repeat, dumbfounded. What a silly, romantic man, with apparently more money than sense, I’ve fallen in love with.
He takes my hand. “Is that okay?”
“I mean, I’m glad I went first with the underwear and all.” He laughs, but his eyes are still worried. “I guess I’m just surprised. You bought it not knowing if we...”
He nods. “I’m expecting to hear about it from my financial planner after the holidays. But it felt like the perfect gift, especially when Blaire didn’t try to talk me out of it. Though, I have to admit, it’s a little self-serving.”
“How so?” I ask, scooting so I’m sitting next to him. Brody wraps his arm around me and pulls me to his side.
“Well, if I were to need to be in the area for any extended periods of time, I hope you’d let me stay. Even if it’s a bit cold for my tastes, Winterberry Glen is my ideal type of town.”
I tilt my head so it rests on his shoulder, a smile so wide my cheeks might crack.
“And of course,” he continues, “I’d return the favor, letting you stay with me in Stamford anytime you wanted to. I really do think it could check all the boxes of your perfect place to live.” He rests his cheek against the top of my head.
“We’re going to figure this out, aren’t we?” I ask softly, staring at the lights twinkling on the tree. I’m so full of love I could burst.
“As long as you’re mine, I don’t care where we live.”
We sit there for a long time, letting our love and the possibilities for our future surround us. The year may be ending, but our story is just beginning.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Austin
The bed moves at 5:00 a.m. and I groan. “The alarm isn’t set to go off for another hour.”
“I know, but I can’t sleep anymore.” The giddiness in my fiancé’s voice makes me smile, even if the sun won’t rise for almost two more hours.
“So, the morning after Thanksgiving is to a professional Santa what Christmas morning is to kids?” I crack an eye open and watch Brody make sure the lines on his beard are sharp, trimming any stray hairs in the ensuite we remodeled in my mom’s house. Something about making her old room our room gave me the willies, so we knocked down a few walls, and built a second master suite on the second floor.
“A very astute observation, fiancé,” he says, leaning close to the mirror to examine his work. Since I accepted his proposal last night at dinner, he’s referred to me as fiancé about twenty times. It’s fucking adorable. “Plus, we’ve got that special visit to get there early for.”
I am excited about the private Santa session we have booked before we open to the public today. The thought gets my feet on the floor and into my slippers. A dull headache from the Thanksgiving turned engagement celebration wine last night beats in my head. A hot shower and caffeine should fix me right up.
“Hi you,” I say, wrapping my arms around his middle and pressing a kiss above his ear. I look at us in the mirror and my heart stutters with happiness. How different my life is from a year ago.
“Morning fiancé,” he replies, lacing his fingers with mine and leaning against me. “Head feeling okay this morning?” Brody may or may not have warned me against the last two glasses of wine. His hangover rule only applies to Santa—my two-day stint last year will be my only time wearing the beard. I am reprising my role as elf for today only, though, so he may have had a point.
