“Yes and no,” I shrug.
Santo’s palms slide to my waist as he helps me off the counter, his grip firm and warm, guiding me down like I’m something precious he doesn’t trust the world to catch.
The marble drops away beneath me, my toes finding the floor, but he doesn’t let go right away. His thumbs stroke slow circles over my hips, steadying me, anchoring me.
For a moment we just stand there, breaths mingling in the soft bathroom light.
Quiet. Heavy. Not sad… just full.
Christmas Eve shouldn’t start with death.
But life hums louder beneath my skin, even this early.
And he feels it, not physically, but in the way my pulse quickens beneath his hands
“Dea,” he murmurs, dipping his forehead to mine, “we’re still going to have a good day.”
I nod, swallowing. “We are.”
He kisses me then, slow, sure, grounding.
A promise pressed to my mouth.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark and focused, like he’s memorizing every detail of my face.
“Get dressed,” he says, voice low. “I want to show you something.”
“What is it?” I ask, curiosity pushing through the heaviness of the morning’s news.
“A surprise.”
I narrow my eyes. “Anotherone? You’re being suspiciously generous with surprises lately.”
He smirks, that dangerous curve of his lips that makes my heart race. “It’s Christmas Eve, Dea.Indulgeme.”
I sigh dramatically but can’t hide my smile. “Fine. But no more baby-proofing while I’m distracted.”
“No promises,” he calls over his shoulder.
He disappears into the closet, and I shake my head, laughing under my breath as I grab my robe tighter around me.
“Dea.”
I turn.
He stands in the doorway, one hand behind his back, shoulders broad and bare, his expression softer than the morning light brushing his face.
“Come here.”
I pad across the room to him, heart already fluttering because he’s looking at me the way he always does when he’s about to ruin me with tenderness.
When I reach him, he brings his hand forward.
A small velvet box.
Deep forest green.
Tied with thin gold ribbon.
