Page 64 of Holiday at Home
Simon bends to meet my eyes. “I’m not asking you to come to New York tolive.I’m asking you to come with me to help me pack.Because I want to come home, Violet. I want to come back to Stillwater Bay. I want to come back to you.”
I stand there in shock, blinking in silence as his words sink into my being.
What’s this mean? He’s willing to quit his job? To leave behind the life he’s worked so hard for? Why?
For me?
“If you’ll have me,” he adds quickly. “If you want me.”
He looks so nervous, his lip caught between his teeth, his brows drawn and pinched. I glance at the ticket, then carefully slip the lid on the box and place it on the counter before stepping into his arms. “I want you, Simon. I’ve never stopped wanting you. I don’t think I ever will.”
And then his lips find mine…
…his hands in my hair…
…tears in my eyes…
“Does this mean you’ll come with me to help me pack?” he whispers, wiping at the moisture on my cheek.
“I’d love to.” I nod. “But where will you live? And what about work?”
“I don’t know for sure. Maybe my parents are looking for a roommate,” he says with a smile. “The only thing that matters right now is that you want me to come home. The rest we can figure out later.”
And then I’m just grinning up at him. “I love that we have a later.”
“Me too, Vi. Me too.”
I’m still grinning when he leans down and presses a kiss to my temple. The world feels new again, bright and possible.
“As much as I’d love to stay right here forever,” he murmurs, “maybe we should go back out and spend the rest of the evening with your family.”
Simon takes my hand and leads me into the living room, where Robbie is reading‘Twas the Night Before Christmasto Nash. Nora meets my eyes. An unspoken question passes between us and all I can do is smile… but that’s enough. She understands.
When Robbie finishes reading, Nora hands each of us one wrapped present—a Sterling family tradition.
“Gee, I wonder what’s inside?” Robbie asks, sarcastically, shaking the box with contrived curiosity.
“Dad…” Nash manages to turn a single word into a full-blown eye roll. “You know. I know. Weallknow. It’s pajamas, just like every Christmas Eve.”
“You don’t know for sure,” Robbie counters, fighting laughter. “Not until the gift’s been opened. It could be a puppy.”
Nash stares at his package with all the disbelief a six-year-old can muster. “It’s not a puppy.”
“Open it and see.”
He tears through the paper and hauls out a pair of red PJs printed with an image of a golden retriever wearing a Santa hat.
“See?” Robbie flares his hands. “I knew it’d be a puppy.”
Nash rolls his eyes as the rest of us open our packages.
Later, after Nash has gone to bed, Simon and I share our news with Nora and Robbie. They exclaim in contrived surprise, like they saw this coming a mile away, and my heart fills to overflowing.
This—this is everything I always wanted.
Family.
Tradition.
