Page 20 of Noel with the Mountain Man
I obey, grinning, and hear him move around the room.
“Okay,” he says. “You can look now.”
I open my eyes, and gasp.
It’s a chest. Cedar, polished smooth, the grain gleaming like honey in the light. The edges are curved just enough to feel soft, not sharp. And carved into the lid, precise and delicate, is a single snowflake.
“Kyler…” My voice catches. I run my fingers over the carving. “It’s beautiful.”
He kneels beside me. “I wanted to build something that would last. Something that could hold every Christmas we’ll ever have. Or, you know, just the ridiculous number of ornaments you keep buying.”
I laugh softly, tracing the snowflake again. “You even included this.”
“Couldn’t not,” he says, brushing his thumb over mine. “Getting snowed in with you last year changed everything. Felt right to honor it.”
I set my cocoa aside and kiss him, slow and deep and sure. When we finally pull apart, I rest my forehead against his.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper. “Sturdy. Beautiful. Built to last.”
“Like us,” he murmurs.
“Like us,” I agree.
