“I meant it,” he said, voice barely audible. “Every word.”
“I know,” I whispered. “And I’m so damn proud of you for saying them.”
He fiddled with the notebook. “I know you’re on duty, but do you have a break soon?”
“I can ask Alex to cover for a while; why?”
“I wanted to head over to Scribble & Sentiment and get some pretty paper and maybe a gift for Jess. She likes pens and notebooks, that kind of thing.”
I pulled out my radio. “Alex, you there?”
“Here.”
“I need sixty,” I said without expanding. “I’ll have my phone for any 911s.”
“Go for it; I’m cat-sitting in the office.”
We waved at Alex as we left through the front door, bundled up against the cold and stepping out into a street with a couple of storefronts decorated for Christmas, which was a week away now. He kept close to me, and by the time we got to the cutesy stationery place that was part of a bookstore, he was anxious and jumpy and only settled when we were inside.
Tyler drifted toward a display of letter sets, running his fingers over thick paper embossed with gold snowflakes. Then, he picked up a midnight blue set edged in silver stars with matching envelopes. “She always liked silver,” he said, barely above a whisper.
He clutched the box to his chest and moved to the next display. I watched as he selected a calligraphy pen and received advice on nibs and inks. Then, he picked up a Christmas card for her and one for his parents. When we returned to Guardian Hall, I sat with him as he carefully copied the letter he’d written onto new paper. I helped him parcel his sister’s things, the two of us laughing because neither of us was skilled at wrapping.
“And this one for Mom and Dad,” he said. “I told them they could visit if they want,” he admitted, closing the card for his parents.
“That’s good.”
“It’s okay if they don’t want to,” he lied.
Then, Alex arranged a courier to deliver the gifts, given how close to Christmas Tyler sent everything to them.
I didn’t say anything as he worked through it all. I didn’t need to. The emotion in his choices said everything.
But inside, I was unraveling. There was quiet determination in the care he put into picking the paper, the card, the wrapping; even the hesitation in his voice when he asked if she might still want to hear from him—this was Tyler trying to heal.
Professionally, I could list a dozen things this moment represented: closure, connection, a milestone in processing grief. But personally? This was the man I was falling in love with—gentle, loyal, aching with guilt, and still trying to make things right.
I wanted to reach over, touch his hand, and tell him how proud I was. But instead, I just watched him because this was his moment—and it was beautiful.
And God, I loved him for it.
THIRTEEN
Tyler
On Christmas Eve,the kitchen dining area was decorated with twinkling lights, and a faint aroma of cinnamon and cloves hung everywhere. It was Marcus’s turn on kitchen duty, and he played some old Christmas music as he cooked, humming and occasionally singing along to classic holiday tunes. He sneaked glances at me, grinning when he caught me watching him, but he didn’t stop singing as I nursed a cup of hot chocolate he’d insisted on making “the right way” with real melted chocolate and a dash of cinnamon.
The last few days had been a whirlwind of emotions. After sending the letters to my family, I was still convinced I’d made a terrible mistake, andI hadn’t heard anything back yet, which made it worse. Still, when it was all too much, Marcus hugged me, and Elena let me talk about everything I was trying to balance and told me I’d done the right thing. Maybe in a few weeks, I’d even believe her.
Jazz appeared in the doorway, his expression unusually nervous, as his gaze darted between Marcus and me.
“Can I talk to you both for a second?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Marcus turned down the heat on whatever he was stirring and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “Sure, what’s up?”
Jazz took a deep breath, approaching us both while glancing over his shoulder, then lowered his tone. “I got something for Alex for Christmas, but… jeez… what if he…” He sighed, then took a shaky breath, before pulling a small velvet box from a bag, opening it to reveal a simple silver band. My breath caught. Marcus’s eyes widened.
“Do you think he’ll freak out if I ask him to marry me?”
