"Not my finest moment." He chuckles. "But you turned around, face all flushed with anger, anddecimatedme. Called me an emotionally stunted troglodyte who needed serious therapy."
"I was fourteen and had discovered SAT vocabulary."
"You were fucking magnificent." His voice drops lower. "That's when I knew. Even with gum in your hair and murder in your eyes, all I could think was, this girl is going to matter."
My breath catches as he turns to face me fully.
"You know what's crazy? I gave you my prized Jigglypuff as an apology—crumpled, and probably smelled like Doritos—and you held on to it. This weird kid with rage issues wrecked your hair, and not only did you forgive me . . . you kept that stupid thing like it meant something."
"I couldn't stay mad at you for too long."
"See? That's you. You've always seen past my bullshit, and kept the parts of me worth keeping, even when I was being the world's biggest disaster." He swallows hard. "I knew back then that you were the kind of girl you marry. I just needed to grow up first."
"Caleb—"
"I love you." He says it like he's been holding it in forever. "Not just because you're beautiful, or because you somehow make my dumbjokes funnier. I love you because you've always seen the best version of me, even when I was being my worst."
"I love you too." My voice cracks around the words.
"Yeah?" That familiar grin breaks through, but there's something softer in it now. "Even though I'm going to keep making bad jokes, and will probably teach our ducks terrible habits?"
"Especially then."
He pulls me closer. "You know what this means, right? You're stuck with me. All my chaos. All my terrible life choices. The whole disaster."
"Promise?"
"Always." And when he kisses me, it tastes like all the vows he's finally ready to keep.
I'm wedged into thecorner of Ivy's ancient couch, my stomach full of three different kinds of potatoes because Mom, Sarah, and Sage got competitive about sides.
The cottage is tighter with everyone crammed in, but somehow, it's still perfect. Dad's hand rests on Mom's knee, thumb tracing absent patterns while she describes her latest library program to Sage. A year ago, he would've called this whole setup—the crystals, the herbs, the general witchy vibe—a bunch of nonsense. Now he's nodding along as Jasper explains the historical significance of winter solstice celebrations.
"Did you know, that the Romans would actually—"
"Dad," Ivy interrupts fondly, "maybe save the lecture untilaftereveryone's digested?"
Matt snorts from his spot by the fire, where he's sprawled across an oversized floor cushion, Sarah using his leg as a pillow. "You mean there's a version of Jasper that doesn't include random history facts?"
The ducks waddle past, making their nightly pilgrimage to the radiator. Quackie Chan stops to give Dad's reindeer socks a judgmental once-over.
"Still can't believe you let them have free range of your house," he says, but there's no bite to it. Not like the first time he visited last week when helping with the Christmas tree, when he nearly had an aneurysm over "livestock in the living room."
"They're family," Ivy teases. "Besides, they have better manners than some people I know." She shoots me a pointed look that makes Matt snort.
"Hey, my manners are excellent," I protest. "I haven't stolen food off your plate in at least three days."
"Speaking of cooking," Jasper says, "that turkey was incredible, Dottie. The herbs you used—"
"Oh, just some rosemary and thyme from Ivy's herb garden," Mom waves him off, but her cheeks flush pink. "Nothing special."
"They were seasoned with magic," Eliza declares from her throne by the fire. "Greg, you should try that protection charm I made you."
Dad winces. "I will hang it in my truck later tonight."
"Really branching out there, huh?" I can't help myself. "Next thing you know, you'll be joining full moon circles."
"Watch it, kid." But he's fighting a smile.
