“He’s okay,” Coop’s dad says. “A bit of a punk sometimes.”
Everyone laughs except Coop’s mom, who defends his honor and then pulls out some games. Coop’s dad turns on a football game on the TV in the background.
“Why don’t I go grab snacks?” I offer.
“I’ll come help,” Coop offers.
We head outside to see that the snow has started falling again, but the flakes are soft and fluffy and take forever tomelt when they land on my eyelashes. When we get into the mudroom, I start shaking off, but Coop stops me.
“What—” He puts his hands on both sides of my face, pulling me toward him, and then his mouth fuses into mine. His kiss is hot enough to melt us together. All of our tension—our constant push and pull—syncs up perfectly in an intricate dance of kissing, nibbling, smiling, and laughing. I feel his cheeks lift in a grin as he slides his hand up my cheek and into my hair, knocking off my hat. Fingertips press against my scalp, making me sigh and fall into him, as happy as I can remember being in a long time.
I don’t beat myself up for feeling happy. The fact that I’ve gotten to this point at all is a miracle nearly as big as Coop’s mom being here.
It’s Christmas, and my mom’s gone, but I can still be happy. It’s not betraying her to enjoy the things we loved together; it’s honoring her. Every laugh is a tribute to the legacy she left me and my family. And it’s taken Coop to help me see that.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I say.
“I do,” he says. “But feel free to list all the reasons you think so.”
“I should let my brothers beat you up a little,” I laugh.
“Only if you promise to kiss me better.”
“I can do that.”
He drops his face and kisses me again, slowly, his lips lingering tenderly on mine. “I need to say something, and I want you not to freak out.”
My eyes fly open to see his closed ones. “Okay …”
“I think I love you.”
I smile and close my eyes again, letting my lips brush against his. “Oh, that? Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Why don’t I what?” I ask, our breath mingling together in puffs of warm mist.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“The circumference of the earth is twenty-four?—”
“Something else.”
“A cloud weighs around a million?—”
“Liesel.”
“Yes, Coop?”
“Tell me you love me.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“LIESEL SUGAR PLUM FISCHER.”
“Yes?” I ask, my lips very much on his.
“If you love me, kiss me.”
