She turned to look at him. He stood in the middle of the room.
“And Merry Christmas.”
She laughed, a wet, incredulous sound. “You decorated for Christmas on Valentine’s Day.”
“I wanted to make it as magical for you as you make it for me,” he said simply.
She stared at him. At the room. At everything she’d once made with her own hands, now assembled with his.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered.
He looked like she’d handed him the sun.
“There’s more,” he said softly.
Her heart thudded. “More?”
He stepped closer, reaching into his pocket.
For one terrifying second, her brain threw her back to Christmas—to the check.
He must have seen something flicker in her face, because he paused.
“It’s not money,” he said quickly. “I swear. I learned that lesson.”
He drew out a small box.
Her breath lodged in her throat.
“I, uh… made you something,” he said.
“Made?” she echoed, stunned.
He nodded, swallowing. “Third attempt,” he admitted. “The first two looked like a kindergarten project. This one… I’m weirdly proud of.”
He opened the box.
Inside, nestled against cotton, was a necklace. The chain wasn’t quite even, and some of the beads were a little off-center, but the colors were unmistakably her—deep red, pale gold, a soft, surprising teal that made the others pop. In the middle sat a tiny, slightly wonky heart charm.
“Tom,” she breathed. “You… you made this.”
“I tried.” He huffed out a breath. “Linda’s craft room will never recover. I bent so much wire I think I insulted the concept of metal.”
She let out a choked laugh.
He lifted the necklace gently from the box.
“I kept thinking about how you must have felt,” he said quietly. “How scary it is to try, to risk it being ugly or ‘too much’ or not good enough. I never did that for you. I always stayed safe. Above it.”
He stepped behind her; she felt his breath ghost along her neck.
“I don’t want to stay safe anymore,” he murmured. “May I?”
Her eyes stung. “Yes,” she whispered.
Her hair was already half up; he brushed it aside with careful fingers and fastened the clasp at the back of her neck. The chain settled against her skin, cool at first, then warming quickly.
Lauren lifted her hand, fingers trembling as she touched the beads. They weren’t perfect. The heart was crooked.
