Absolutely unstoppable.
It's not just her intelligence, though that's something to behold. It's her heart. The way she takes care of everyone around her, even when she thinks no one's watching.
Yeah, I’ve never been more certain of anything.
The conversations that used to tangle me in knots, the choices that felt impossible—they're clear now.
My fingers brush the velvet box in my sixteenth pocket. A tiny piece of forever just waiting for deployment. For her.
"You good?" Nick materializes at my shoulder, fresh beer in hand and that look in his eye like he's running a tactical assessment.
"Better than good.”
He nods slowly, taking a pull from his beer as his gaze drifts to Holly. "She's something, isn't she?"
I can't help the laugh that escapes. "You have no idea."
There's no tension between us now, no weight of history or unspoken warnings. Just understanding that we fought hard to earn.
Nick claps my shoulder. "You've done good, man. Proud of you."
The words settle easy now, natural as breathing. "Thanks, brother."
Across the room, Holly catches my eye. That little smirk tugs at her lips—the one that says she's already run three scenarios ahead of me and has contingency plans for each one.
Everything is clicking into place.
And soon, when I ask her the question burning in my pockets, everything will be perfect.
Because the mistletoe might have started this, but I'm going to finish it.
I pocket my phone and head in Holly’s direction. At least whatever psychological warfare our mothers have planned, we're facing it together.
We meet at one of the overstuffed recliners, where she settles my lap.
Nick’s mom clears her throat and pulls a deck of cards out of nowhere, her smile nothing short of predatory. “Never Have I Ever?”
“I’m gonna need so much more alcohol for this,” Holly mutters against my neck. “We can’t unknow any of this.”
I stroke her spine, to soothe her or me, who the hell knows. “They’re our parents… how bad can it actually get?”
Twenty minutes later, we’re in a circle, drinks in hand. The parents are three shots deep, and things are spiraling. Fast.
And I regret ever uttering the words about how bad it can get to Holly.
“Never have I ever…” Mrs. McAdams pauses dramatically, “…had sex in public.”
Every single parent drinks.
“Jesus Christ,” Nick mutters, clutching his glass like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.
“The boathouse wasn’t public,” Mrs. McAdams protests. “It was… semi-private.”
Boathouse—right out of the fucking gate.
“Ellen!” My mom gasps, looking scandalized. “That was you?”
Eve, ever the documentarian, pulls out her phone. “Here we observe the mating habits of the wild boomers, establishing territory through strategic?—”
