Page 45 of Not In The Christmas Plan
“And their kids,” I add weakly.
His mouth twitches, but he schools it quickly.
He looks down at the paper again, shakes his head, and huffs out something between disbelief and laughter. “You came all the way here to tell me you want to trade off birthdays, Christmas, New Year’s, even Juneteenth, like we’re divorced parents?”
“That’s exactly what I did, because you deserve to be able to show up for your family without my hindrance.” I pause, my heart thumping wildly. “But now that I’m here, I realize it’s not what I want. I didn’t come because of some agreement. I came because I miss you. I came, because I was wrong to push you away.”
In the stretching silence, his eyes soften.
Finally, Grant steps back, opening the door wider. “Come inside before you freeze.”
I step over the threshold and into Grant’s home.
He closes the door, leaning against it with a sigh. “I knew you were going to do this.”
I eye him. He’s so handsome it should be illegal. “Do what?”
“Realize you were pushing me away because you were scared, then try to make it right by sacrificing yourself in some overcomplicated gesture.”He holds up the paper with a smirk. “Like drafting a custody agreement instead of just saying you’re sorry.”
I don’t know whether to be offended or amused. He knows me so well. “You’re unbelievable.”
He balls up the paper and tosses it toward his open office. It lands perfectly in the wastebasket.
“Nothing but net,” I mutter.
“Nothing but net,” he echoes, closing the distance between us. “You don’t have to trade holidays with me, Eve. You just need to stop running.”
My voice cracks. “I’m trying.”
“I know.” He steps closer, his hand finding my cheek, warm and sure.
I step into his warmth. “So don’t give up on me. Please.”
His thumb traces my cheek, slow and tender while he wraps his free hand around my waist. “I won’t. I can’t.” A self-deprecating laugh. “I've tried. You’re stubborn, and a control freak, and you drive me up the wall the way you try to take the world on your shoulders. But I have been in love with you since the minute I saw you. And every moment that we’ve spent together has felt like a gift.”
I lean into his touch and close my eyes, reveling in his words. The feeling he gives me—butterflies, hope, joy—all wrapped with a bow.
I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again. Not after losings so much or convincing myself that kind of happiness was for other people. But Grant changed that. He made me believe in the possibility of family again, of laughter in a kitchen, of a future filled with more than memories and grief.
This must have been what Dad felt when he let himself love Ms. Thomas. Standing here with Grant, I believe every single one of Ms. Thomas’s words—this is what Dad wanted for me. To open my heart and let love in.
I slide my hands over Grant’s chest and around his neck. Standing on my toes, I breathe him in, noticing the slight smile across his lips. “I love you too.”
And then we’re kissing. It’s slow and sweet, full of promises and love.
“You taste sweet,” I say when we pull apart.
“I just had some hot cocoa,” he says. “You can have some if you want.”
“It’s about time you offered me some.”
“If you wanted some, that’s all you had to say. Because there’s one thing I don’t play about—”
“Let me guess,” I say. “Hot chocolate?”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Nope. You.”
I don’t try hiding my goofy smile.
