He was giving her an exit. Before she’d even seen it.
“Tom…” she said softly.
“I mean it, Lo,” he said. “If I got this wrong, you just say the word.”
She swallowed, fingers tightening around the phone. For a moment she just listened to him breathe, the quiet hum of the line between them.
“I’m coming in,” she said at last.
There was a pause—just long enough for her to hear the hope in his silence.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll be in the living room.”
She stepped out into the cold, the air sharp against her flushed cheeks, and walked up the path. Her keys felt heavier than usual in her hand.
The second she opened the door, she knew something was different.
Music floated from somewhere deeper in the house. Christmas music.
“Hey,” she called, her voice catching halfway between wary and breathless.
“In here,” Tom answered.
She stepped out of her boots and moved toward the sound.
The hallway was dark, the only light a faint, glittering glow spilling out from the doorway ahead.
Lauren’s steps slowed. Her heart began to pound.
She stepped through the doorway.
And stopped.
“Tom,” she said. “What did you?—”
Christmas had exploded in her living room.
Lights looped around the curtain rods in sparkling chains. Her crocheted garlands framed the bookshelves. Every surface held something familiar: hand-painted angels, wire brush trees, the glittery snowflakes with their bespoke photo cutouts.
Her tree—her busy, beloved plastic tree—resurrected in the corner, fully dressed. Ornaments crowded the branches. Ribbons cascaded down the sides like frozen waterfalls. The Elvis jumpsuit hanging in pride of place.
The room glowed.
Not tasteful. Not restrained.
Warm. Wild.Christmas.
Her throat closed.
She took a step forward, then another. Her stocking. His stocking. The chain of peppermints she’d glued.
It was all here. Every bit of love she’d thought she’d thrown away.
She didn’t realize she was crying until her vision blurred and a hot tear slid down her cheek.
“Tom,” she whispered.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, voice shaky but sure.
