. . .
Natalie
I wake up slowly,blinking into the pale light spilling through my bedroom curtains, and the weight of Jake’s hand resting over my hip. He’s pressed up behind me, warm and solid, his breath moving in a lazy rhythm against the back of my neck. His fingers are curved protectively over the curve of my stomach.
I stay still and let myself enjoy the way his body relaxes around mine. He’s been here more nights than not lately, the evidence accumulating. A toothbrush in the bathroom. His hoodie on the back of my chair. A second pair of shoes by the door.
A month ago, seeing his things scattered through my house would have sent me spiraling. Would have felt like too much too fast, like I was losing control of my own space, my own life.
Now? It settles something in me.
Maybe it’s the baby. Maybe having her inside me, growing and real and impossible to ignore, makes it easier tolet him in too. Like she’s the excuse I needed to stop fighting what I actually want. Or maybe it’s just him. The way he doesn’t push. The way he shows up and stays without making it feel like a demand.
“Are you awake?” His voice is low and rough with sleep, right against my hair.
“Kind of,” I murmur. “What time is it?”
He shifts just enough to reach for his phone on the nightstand, his arm tightening around me so I don’t move when he does. “A little after eight.”
“Too early for Christmas Eve,” I say, closing my eyes again.
He laughs softly. “I thought you were the one who liked this holiday.”
“I like this holiday when it starts at ten.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then I feel him move. The bed shifts as he sits up, and I open my eyes to find him reaching for something on the nightstand.
“What are you doing?”
“Hang on.” He turns back to me, a small, gift-wrapped box in his hand. “I was going to wait until tonight, but this feels like the right moment.”
My nerves take over. “Jake, you didn’t have to?—”
“I know I didn’t have to.” He settles back against the headboard, pulling me up with him. “I wanted to. Open it.”
I take the box, the wrapping paper soft under my fingers. It’s small, maybe the size of my palm, wrapped in silver paper with a white ribbon. I pull it loose and tear through the paper carefully, revealing a simple white jewelry box. When I open it, my breath catches.
It’s a necklace. Delicate gold chain with a small pendant—a crescent moon with a tiny star nestled inside the curve.
“Jake,” I whisper.
“The moon is you,” he says quietly. “The star is Isla. I saw it and thought…. I don’t know. It felt right.”
My eyes sting. I blink hard, trying to keep it together, but my throat is tight. “It’s beautiful.”
“Can I put it on you?”
I nod, not trusting my voice, and turn so my back is to him. He lifts the necklace from the box, his fingers brushing the nape of my neck as he fastens the clasp. The pendant settles just below my collarbone, cool against my skin.
I turn back to face him, my hand automatically going to the pendant. “Thank you. Really. This is—” I swallow. I lean forward and kiss him, slow and deep, trying to say everything I can’t quite put into words yet.
When I pull back, he cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Nat.”
“Merry Christmas.”
His thumb brushes absently against my stomach, sending a jolt of desire through me. We’ve been good since the night she kicked for him. Not perfect, not suddenly cured of all our baggage, but there’s been an ease to us lately.
He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I have to go get my mom from the airport,” he says quietly. “Her flight lands around noon.”
