“Open it.”
I sit back, lifting the package. “Can I shake it.”
He chuckles as he picks up a strawberry from the mountain of them on top of the French toast. “Be my guest.”
Whatever’s inside isn’t heavy, but it thumps around a lot. “Interesting. It’s not soft. It’s not too heavy.”
“Just open it, Liberty.”
I scrunch my nose at him. “I’m enjoying toying with you.”
He tosses a blueberry at me.
“Oh, alright.” I tug the ribbon and admire the perfect corners made with the precisely folded wrapping paper. “Did they teach this when you learned how to make beds.”
He laughs, leaning back, pleasure in his eyes as he watches me.
When I pop the tape, I get a little bump in my pulse. He really went all out, making the presentation nice.
“Is this present from the fridge?”
He gives me a rare eye roll. Spencer Saint McCallister is not an eye roller. He’s all business. Most of the time.
“Here goes.” I lift the lid, my lips parting in a small gasp.
“Did you make this?”
“I did.”
I’m already tearing up as I lift the silver star. It’s an ornament. The edges have been rounded, the points perfectly symmetrical. Engraved on the front are the letters ‘L & S’ with 12/24/2025 engraved below them.
“How in the world?” I choke out.
He studies my expression, his eyes softening. “There’s a shop on the lowest level. I know how to make things out of metal.”
“You think?” I laugh tearfully, holding it to my chest. “This is the best present ever. It’s gorgeous.”
“Let’s put it on the tree.” He holds out a hand and I climb off the sofa, careful not to disturb the food as I let him lead me toward our tree masterpiece.
“Where do you think it should go?”
He looks mildly offended. “Front and center.”
He points to a spot that is indeed front and center, right at eye level…for me at least. It’s the perfect branch with the perfect opening and there will be lights making the shiny silver metal gleam.
I hang the ornament and he reaches over my shoulder, tracing our initials and the date. He’s right behind me. His chest to my back. His voice is husky and warm. “Love you, angel.”
“Love you too.”
I sound like I’m speaking through water because I’ve got so many tears in my throat.
He holds me for a few minutes by the big tree. Strong arms wrapped protectively around me. All of my past pain evaporates and is replaced by a sure and steady warmth.
I don’t know how or why this happened, but I’m not letting it go.
“Time to eat,” he murmurs, “I should have saved that ’til later, but I was excited to give it to you.”
His confession makes me fall even harder. “Who needs food when you have romance?”
