He takes it carefully, his expression curious. He opens it slowly, his face softening when he sees what it is. "You made this?"
"It's all my favorite recipes. The ones we can cook together."
He flips through the pages, reading my notes, the little comments I wrote beside each one. His fingers trace my handwriting. Every recipe has a memory attached. A piece of me. He looks up at me, his eyes bright. "Jo, this is incredible."
"I wanted you to have something of mine. Something that shows I'm thinking about our future. Us together."
"We will be. I promise." He sets the book down carefully on the coffee table and pulls me onto his lap, just holding me. I rest my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat.
"This is real, right?" I whisper.
"So real."
"Good. Because I don't want to lose this feeling I have with you."
"Me either."
We sit like that, just holding each other, enjoying the moment. One that changes things between us. Deepens them. Makes everything feel more permanent.
"I should go," I finally say. "Need to finish getting ready."
"I know." But he doesn't let me go. His arms tighten around me.
"Emmett ..."
"One more minute."
I smile against his chest. "One more minute."
We stay like that until the minute stretches into two, then three. Finally, I pull back. "Text me when you land in Wisconsin?"
"Of course. You text me when you land in Quebec."
"Deal.”
One more kiss. It's long and deep and full of everything we can't say yet. His hand tangles in my hair. Mine fists his shirt. When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"Go," he says. "Before I lock you in here and don't let you leave."
"Tempting." I force myself off his lap, grab my stuff, and head for the door. I look back at him one more time. He's watching me, that soft look still on his face.
"Merry Christmas, Captain."
"Merry Christmas, Trouble."
Then I'm heading back to my apartment, the bracelet on my wrist catching the light with every step. My heart is overflowing.
Collette is in the kitchen when I walk in. She looks up from her coffee, and I burst into tears. "What is going on?" She sets her mug down, alarmed.
"Look what he bought me." I wave the bracelet in her face, barely coherent.
She takes my wrist gently, examining it. "It's beautiful."
"It's us," I tell her, explaining all the charms through my tears. The bus. The puck. The band-aid. The heart. The phone. The snowflake. "Each one means something."
"That is so sweet." She pulls me into a hug.
"Isn't it?"
