Once my bracelet is securely fastened. Archer leans back. “Okay,” he says, rubbing his palms together. “My turn.”
I hand him a larger, softer package. He rips into the paper like a little kid. No finesse, no patience and pulls out a charcoal wool coat.
He stares at it for a second, mouth slightly open. “I noticed,” I say, suddenly self-conscious, “that you don’t bring your coat to games anymore. I’m not sure of the reasoning behind it, but I wanted you to have a coat that you liked, and that was comfortable.” I chew on my lip. Suddenly second guessing the gift.
He smiles and pulls me into his lap, coat and all, kissing my temple.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s perfect.” We exchange a few more gifts; Archer gifts me a pair of gorgeous diamond studs, cozy socks and a new kindle cover. I gift him with companion pieces to Sadie’s themed boob painting to switch out with the seasons. Earning a loud laugh from him.
“I have another one for you.” I say. Reaching behind him to a box I hid with the tree skirt.
He takes the box with his large hands carefully peeling back the thick candy cane ribbon. His eyes go wide when he lifts the lid. The light from the fireplace catches the polished case.
“Elle. Wow. This is … this is incredible. Thank you,” he murmurs, lifting a watch out. He runs a finger over the leather strap, then flips the watch over to examine the back of the watch.
He freezes. The smile softens, turning into something more meaningful.
Every second, I choose you. Engraved forever in the back. He gently lowers the watch, placing it carefully back in the box. He doesn’t look at me immediately. He looks out, toward the fireplace, pulling in a deep shaky breath. When his eyes finally meet mine again, they’re glassy. He gently takes my hand and brings it to his lips, placing a reverent kiss upon it.
“I’m going to wear this every day,” he says, his voice low and firm. “I love you, Ellie.”
We sit there for a long while, wrapped up in each other and the glow of the tree. Then he clears his throat.
“Okay, okay, well there’s… actually one more.”
“Archer…”
“It’s small,” he insists, digging in hishoodie pocket. “Promise.”
He hands me a little envelope. Inside is a folded piece of paper with his handwriting scrawled across it.
Coupon: Good for 7 home cooked meals, redeemable whenever.
I laugh so hard and my stomach hurts. “You hate cooking.”
“Yeah,” he says, brushing a kiss to my cheek. “But I love you more than I hate cooking.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he corrects, pulling me closer. Outside, the snow starts falling thicker. A perfect Christmas Eve.
Inside, Archer wraps his arms around me, murmuring “Merry Christmas, Elle” against my ear before turning on my favorite Christmas movie.
???
The following morning the smell of cinnamon rolls hits me before I even open my eyes.
Archer is in the kitchen, humming off-key to some Christmas song that’s crackling from the Bluetooth speaker. Some song that he claims is a ‘classic’, even though he only knows three of the words. Spoiler alert, it’s not a classic.
I smile into my pillow. Too cozy to get up immediately.
“Merry Christmas,” I call out.
There’s a pause and then a muffled “Merry Christmas, Ellie,” spoken around what is definitely a mouthful of cold cinnamon roll.
I drag myself out of bed and shuffle into the kitchen wearing his old Wolves hoodie that falls halfway down my thighs. Archer glances up from the pan, cheeks flushed from the oven heat and bedhead giving him the appearance of a fuzzy duckling.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “I’m baking.”
