“One special gift?”
“Family tradition,” I explained. “Christmas morning is for the big celebration with lots of presents, but Christmas Eve is for one meaningful gift that represents what you want to say to that person but can’t find the words for.”
Declan was quiet for a moment, and when I looked up at him, he had the kind of expression that suggested he was processing the significance of being included in intimate family traditions.
“Holly,” he said carefully, “are you sure your family wants me there for Christmas Eve traditions? I mean, I know they like me, but that sounds like something for actual family members.”
“Declan,” I said, propping myself up on my elbow to look at him directly, “you are actual family now. Maybe not legally yet, but in every way that matters. My parents have been calling you their future son-in-law since approximately five minutes after we told them we were staying in Vermont together.”
“Future son-in-law,” Declan repeated with a smile.
“Very future,” I said quickly, realizing that might sound like pressure. “I mean, no timeline or expectations or anything. Just... if you want that. Eventually. Maybe.”
“Holly,” Declan said gently, reaching up to touch my face, “I want that. All of it. The future, the family, the eventually. I want it so much that it’s slightly terrifying.”
“Terrifying in a good way or terrifying in a ‘run away to Mexico’ way?”
“Terrifying in a ‘I’ve never wanted anything this much’ way,” Declan said, pulling me down for a kiss that tasted like promises and Christmas Eve morning and the kind of happiness I’d been afraid to hope for.
When we finally broke apart, I checked the clock. If we didn’t get moving soon, we were going to be late for everything our families had planned, which would result in the kind of well-meaning parental interference that would probably include detailed discussions of our romantic timeline and possibly impromptu engagement planning.
“We should get ready,” I said reluctantly, though what I wanted to do was stay in this bed with Declan for approximately the next week and forget about schedules and family obligations and anything that didn’t involve the two of us figuring out our domestic future.
“Probably,” Declan agreed, though he made no move to actually get up. “But first, I have something for you.”
“Something for me?”
“Your one special Christmas Eve gift,” Declan said, reaching for his jacket, which was hanging over the chair beside the bed. “I know we didn’t exactly plan for this tradition, but I saw something yesterday and thought... well, I hoped you’d like it.”
He pulled a small, wrapped box from his jacket pocket, and my heart did something complicated and fluttery that he’d been thinking about Christmas gifts for me while dealing with Richard’s dramatic career intervention and our life-altering romantic revelations.
“Declan,” I said softly, accepting the box with obvious emotion, “you didn’t have to?—”
“I wanted to,” he said simply. “Open it.”
Inside the box was a delicate silver necklace with a small pendant that looked like... a Christmas tree. But when I looked closer, I saw it wasn’t just any Christmas tree. It was specifically designed to look like the tree in Everdale Falls town square, complete with tiny details that matched the actual decorations we’d helped coordinate.
“Declan,” I whispered, touched beyond words by the thoughtfulness of the gift.
“I saw it in the jewelry booth yesterday,” he explained, looking slightly nervous about my reaction. “Mrs. Caldwell makes them custom for people who want to remember special Christmas festivals. I thought... I thought maybe this Christmas festival was special enough to remember.”
“It’s perfect,” I said, meaning it completely. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
As Declan fastened the necklace around my neck, I knew he was right. This Christmas festival was definitely special enough to remember—it was the Christmas festival where I’d fallen in love and chosen my future and discovered what it felt like to be exactly where I belonged.
“Now I have something for you,” I said, reaching for my handbag.
“Holly, you don’t have to?—”
“Yes, I do,” I said firmly, pulling out a small package. “Open it.”
Declan unwrapped the gift with the kind of careful attention that suggested he was trying to preserve the wrapping paper, which was exactly the kind of detail that made me love him even more. Inside was a small brass nameplate that read “Declan Hayes, Attorney at Law” in elegant engraving.
“For your new office,” I explained, suddenly nervous that it was too presumptuous or too practical or not romantic enough for a Christmas Eve gift. “I know you don’t have an office yet, but I thought... when you do...”
“It’s perfect,” Declan said quietly, running his thumb over the engraved letters. “Holly, this is perfect. It makes it real, you know? The idea that I’m actually going to do this, build a practice here, help people who need it. How did you get this so quickly?”
I tapped the side of my nose. “I have my ways. You’re going to be amazing at it. Small-town legal practice is lucky to have you.”
