Page 33 of An Unexpected Christmas
When we reach the living area, I order him to, “Sit.” Nudging his knees toward the couch. He lowers himself onto the cushions, blindfold still in place, one corner of his mouth tipped up like he’s enjoying this more than he should.
“I like you bossy.”
“We’ll have time for bossy later,” I whisper and watch as goosebumps cover his neck.
“Now what?” he asks.
“Now you wait,” I tell him, heart racing, already backing toward the door.
Because if I’m going to do this right, he needs to seewhyI left.
Sam
I made Christmas... for you
The couch creaks as I shift, still blindfolded, waiting. The tie presses against my temples, soft but unrelenting, blotting out the world. At first, it’s quiet—so quiet I start to wonder if she’s forgotten about me, left me sitting here like an idiot while she snickers from the shadows.
The silence stretches, the kind that makes seconds feel like minutes, and I’m halfway to pulling the blindfold off when something makes me pause.
Faint at first, then clearer: Frankie’s voice, carried through the still night air and cracked open windows. Mutters. Grumbles. Cute little bursts of—damn it, why won’t this—followed by a string of words I’m fairly certain would land her on Santa’s naughty list.
I smile before I can stop myself. The sound alone paints the picture: her pacing, tugging at something stubborn, her nose scrunched in determination, hair falling loose around her face. Even without seeing her, I can see her.
The smile lingers long after the curses fade.
Then, her presence washes over me again, as sure as sunlight. Warm fingers brushing my shoulders, the soft huff of her breath as she guides me to stand. “So before I take you somewhere—”
“Somewhere to do unspeakable things to my body?”
“Sam!”
“Sorry, continue.”
She sighs, but the sound is light. “Before I take you somewhere, I need you to know that this isn’t about obligation. Or pity. Or me feeling sorry for you being the neighborhood Grinch.”
I tilt my head toward her voice, a smile tugging at my mouth. “You sure? Because I’ve been working very hard on that reputation.”
“I know,, and it’s honorable to be so grumpy but the past few days, I’ve seen more. I think your heart is beautiful, Sam.” Her honesty cuts through my defenses swiftly, and a lump forms in my throat. She drops a chaste kiss to the side of my mouth, making me feel something deep behind my ribs. “I’m doing this because I want to. Because you matter. And if I’ve learned anything these last few days, it’s that sometimes you don’t wait for perfect timing. You just… make it perfect.”
The words press against me harder than the blindfold. My throat goes tight, and for once, I don’t joke it off.
“All right,” I say quietly. “Lead the way, Frankie.”
She steadies me as she slides my coat on, guiding my arms through the sleeves with a tenderness that makes my throattight. Her fingers graze mine as she fastens the buttons, one by one, like she’s sealing me in. I manage the last one, blind but sure, if only to feel useful.
“You ready?” she asks, her voice buzzing with nerves and hope, threaded with something that feels suspiciously like anticipation.
“I am,” I reply, meaning it.
Her hand finds mine, her fingers slipping between mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and she leads me carefully outside. The cold air hits immediately against my cheeks. The ground crunches under our boots, the air filled with the distant hush of melting snow sliding from rooftops.
We haven’t gone far when she stops, close enough that I can feel the puff of her breath ghost against my chin. I’m aware of every inch of her—how her hand tightens just slightly in mine, how she lingers in that pause like she’s building the tension on purpose.
Then the tie lifts from my eyes, light flooding in, and I blink hard against it, my pupils struggling to catch up.
Everything is color and bright lights at first, the kind that makes you blink to focus. But when the blur clears, my chest constricts.
Her house comes into focus, the usual beacon that used to get under my skin only days ago. God, why does that feel like a lifetime has passed? Still, there it beams, only now it’s different. Lit up in all its wild, unapologetic glory, every inch drippingwith twinkling lights and garlands. The porch is framed in holly and ribbon, the eaves dripping with icicles of light, and there on the lawn is that damn reindeer, mid-leap, smug as ever.
