She grinned wider.
“Thank you for today,” I said, running my hands up and down her upper arms through the blanket.
She shook her head, eyes landing on my neck where my chain lay, before pinning me with a raw, honest look. “I should be thanking you. I’ve been so worried about…well, all of it, that I forgot this was the point. The memories, being with family. Having you with me.”
“But that last part is the most important, right?” I teased.
She shot me a wry look, but I wiped it away by grabbing her chin and pulling her face to mine. My Christmas was complete with my lips on hers. Parker in my arms was the greatest gift I could have ever asked for. Now I could kiss her whenever I wanted, touch her whenever I pleased, and call her mine.
With my hold still firm on her face, I deepened the kiss, tongue slipping past her sweet lips to taste more of her. Her grip on the blanket fell when she pressed herpalms to my chest, and I grabbed the material before it could hit the ground, holding it so she wouldn’t get cold.
“Merry Christmas, Parker,” I said against her lips, leaning my forehead against hers. Our mingled breaths fanned out in puffs of white, placing us in our own little bubble.
“Merry Christmas, Beckham.”
My arms came around her once more, pulling her into my chest, and we stood there watching the snow fall and time slow, cherishing this Christmas together. It’d be our last one alone, but I didn’t hate that thought. I wanted nothing more than to see our children running around our own tree, wrapping paper and discarded packaging strewn about our toy-filled living room.
With my chin on the top of her head, I said, “I have something I want to show you.”
She pulled back slightly to catch my eye. “Is it another woman you’ve been going to see?”
A laugh burst out of me. “I promise it’s not another woman. I was only hiding the one.”
Her smile rivaled the lights strung up around the ranch. “Show me.”
After I brought her inside to say our goodbyes to everyone, my mom sent us off with a gallon-sized thermos of hot chocolate. Parker said her thanks about two dozen times, but my mom never made her feel like she was inconveniencing anyone.
Parker was a Bronson, whether there was a ring on her finger yet or not.
The night was quiet as we walkedto my truck in the driveway. When I opened the passenger door for her, I used my boot to kick the snow off the step, then helped her into the seat. With her buckled, I got in behind the wheel and cranked the heater.
“Where are we going?” she asked, rubbing her hands together as the cab warmed.
“Somewhere.”
She frowned as I shifted into drive and headed for the road.
“You have my mind spiraling after the last place you took me, if I’m being honest.”
“I already said—” But I stopped when I saw her shaking her head in my peripheral.
“There are so many things that happened to the both of us while we were away from one another, and sometimes it feels like I’m meeting a whole new Beckham.”
I stayed silent, because sometimes, I felt the same way. We’d had discussions like this, but at times—like right now—the realization would hit a little harder.
“I thought your brothers hated me for showing up pregnant.”
“Parker, no.” I set a hand on her thigh before looping my fingers with hers. “My family could never hate you.”
“I know. Iknowthat. But I’ve felt so out of my element, and for a while, I didn’t even feel like myself. The girl that couldn’t get enough of you growing up. The one that spent so much time with your family and on their ranch. I felt like a stranger, even to myself. And tonight really helped me realize that it wasn’t the pregnancy or any of that making me feel that way.” Her handtightened on mine, and I returned the squeeze. “I tried so hard to fit in while I was traveling, and I lost a little of myself. But not here. In Bell Buckle, with you, I don’t question who I am or what I want.” She looked at me, and it took all I had not to pull over early and give her every ounce of my attention.
The timing was perfect, because seconds later, after rounding the corner, we came to a stop at a place full of so many bittersweet memories.
“Beckham,” she whispered, astonishment in her eyes and thousands of lights reflecting in them. Parker’s childhood home stood brightly in the background, a new family residing there and living their own life behind those walls. But it wasn’t the home that had her speechless. It was what I’d done.
I got out and rounded to her side, opening the door and helping her down. Her gaze was glued to the lights, and mine was glued to her.
“I talked to the new owners a few weeks ago, and they were more than happy to let me borrow their tree for a night.”
