“There’s a shower in here?” Piper gasps.
I laugh. “That’s the one new addition since high school. Mom and Dad remodeled the bathroom down here and added a shower my sophomore year of college.” I turn on the water, wait until it runs hot, and step inside after Piper.
She steps under the stream and smiles at me. “This is wild.”
I grin back. “It seems that way but if you think about it… Didn’t a part of you always think we’d end up together?” I certainly did. It may have been years since I truly believed it, but I never stopped wondering…
Piper washes herself quickly and moves out of the way to let me have some hot water.
“Maybe,” she says softly. “I never wanted to get my hopes up too much.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “Why not? You’re the better half in this duo,” I remind her, gesturing between us. “I was too immature to appreciate it in high school, but even then, I knew. It’s always been you, Piper. I just needed to catch up to your level. Had to get the timing right.”
“And you think that’s now?” she asks.
I reach for her and pull her into my frame, letting the water rain down on us both. Then, I kiss her. “I know it.”
After we towel off, I give her some old sweats and a T-shirt to wear.
“You think your parents are wondering where you are?” I ask, settling into the fort with her.
“Nah,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m sure they think we’re catching up. I mean, they may be surprised to learn it’s more than that.”
“They won’t,” I disagree. “Everyone who knows us has always assumed we’d eventually be a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah. That I’d come to my senses and make you mine. That you’d give me a hard time at first but eventually give me a shot. That I’d take it and woo you over with my winning personality and beaming smile.”
“It’s your jawline,” she deadpans.
“Huh?”
“What finally won me over. That and your skilled fingers.” She flutters her fingers like jazz hands.
I bark out a laugh. Taking her hand in mine, I press a kiss to the center of her palm. “Merry Christmas, Piper.”
“Merry Christmas, Hudson.”
“You’re already my favorite present.”
“I’ll remember that for next year.”
I laugh again, relieved that she still has her sense of humor. That she’s showing it to me again. Rolling toward her so our faces are lined up, I ask the one thing that’s been tugging at my mind. “Would you try long-distance again? I can’t exactly relocate but?—”
“I can,” she murmurs.
I shake my head. “I’d never ask you to do that.”
“You’re not. You told me earlier that trying something new isn’t quitting.”
“It’s not.”
“I’m ready to try a lot of new things,” she says, her voice confident, her eyes glittering. “Deep down, I’ve known it for a long time. It was just hard to let go.”
“But now?”
“I’m holding on to something better,” she whispers.
