He smirks, tugging me close as we step into the snow. “Worth it.”
And as we walk out into the night, the Bristol house glowing warm behind us, I know that somehow, in the mess and madness of this Christmas, I ended up exactly where I was meant to be… we both did.
CHAPTER 21
Cole
ONE YEAR LATER…
The sunset hits the ridge exactly the way it did that night. Except this time, there’s a house sitting on it.
I’m standing on the same west-facing deck he brought me to a year ago, back when it was nothing but bones and beams. Now it’s glass and warm wood and a roof over our heads and a view that steals every coherent thought right out of my brain.
I wrap my cardigan tighter around me and take a breath so deep my lungs hurt. Our deck boards creak behind me, then he slides his arm around my waist.
“You’re supposed to be inside freaking out,” Cole rumbles against my ear. “This is my quiet spot.”
“I am freaking out,” I whisper-shout, folding both hands over his forearm. “I just came out here to remember I live in a postcard so I don’t spiral over deviled eggs and not drying out the damn ham.”
He laughs into my hair and it’s so stupidly domestic I could cry. “Baby, it’s Christmas. Nobody’s gonna care about deviled eggs.”
“Your mom will care.”
“My mom will care if you care.” He kisses the side of my head, beard scratchy, voice soft. “She’s gonna walk in, see this view, and forget about the eggs.”
I tilt my head back so I can look at him. “You still like it?”
He looks past me, out over the deck, at the timber-frame ceiling he designed, at the wall of windows, at the mountains. At the house he designed, built, bought, and then just… handed me, like that’s a normal thing. “Yeah,” he says, eyes warm. “Think we did alright.”
We absolutely did not just “do alright.” We did this. The very house he showed me half-built—he turned around two months later and was like, “Merry Christmas, Hailey,” and I about blacked out. He said I wouldn’t stop talking about how this was the kind of place I wanted to spend Christmas mornings in, so he made it happen.
I spin in his hold, palms on his chest. “Okay, quick status report while I still have you: ham is in, potatoes are boiled, rolls are proofing, tree is perfect, I vacuumed three times, and there are actual cloth napkins on the table because your sister is dramatic and I didn’t want her to think I’ve fallen apart without her…”
He arches a brow, amused. “I don’t think anything could make you fall apart.”
“I’m hanging by a thread here.” I grab his shirt. “Where are you going again?”
“To get everyone from the airport.” He says it like I didn’t already make him tell me five times. “Your parents land at four fifty. My parents land at five. Maddie lands at five ten because she couldn’t pick a normal flight. I’ll have a truck full of Christmas guests by six.”
Panic flares. “Six is in, like, three and a half hours, Cole.”
“Yep.” He taps my nose. “Which is why you’re going to stop rearranging garland and go inside and enjoy your pretty little house.”
“My garland is crooked.”
“It’s fine.”
“The hot chocolate bar still needs the peppermint spoons put in the jar and I need to set out the little place cards?—”
His mouth curves into that amused smile he gets when he’s making fun of me. “You makin’ place cards now?”
“It’s our first Christmas hosting. I want it to be nice.”
“It is nice.” He glances past me through the glass doors into the great room. Our tree is glowing, stockings hung on the stone fireplace he built with his own two ridiculous hands, my throw pillows in full festive formation. “You did good, baby.”
“You sure you don’t need me to go with? I could help wrangle the luggage, make sure Maddie doesn’t start crying the second she sees you.”
He’s already shaking his head. “Nope. You stay. Finish whatever… Pinterest fever dream you’ve got going on in there.”
