I’d failed her back then.
I wouldn’t fail her again.
That girl was still everything to me.
And I’d be damned if I’d be the man who walked away from her twice.
More Than You’ll Ever Know
Ariana
2007
“Merry Christmas Eve,” I sang, practically skipping into the living room of the apartment I shared with Shane. He’d made a perfect cup of coffee for me and left it on the bedside table, its scent luring me awake.
I nearly spilled that sweet cup of joe when I took in the scene of the living room.
“Christmas Eve?” Shane repeated, frowning. “Never heard of it. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
He spread out his arms, showcasing how he’d transformed our living space overnight. The Christmas tree was still there, yes, and a string of white lights still framed our window. There was still a poinsettia on our coffee table and a few gifts under the tree.
But an explosion of birthday decorations muted it all.
There was a giant hand-painted banner strung from one end of the room to the other, a bright yellow with neon pink letters — my two favorite colors. Balloons littered the floor and floated in bunches of five or six around the room. Framing the poinsettia were bouquets — plural — of my favorite flowers.
White and yellow daisies and pink carnations.
On the floor, there were two pink pillow cushions serving as chairs, and Shane had turned a box into a table, covering it with a cloth and a breakfast spread right out of a magazine: French toast, bacon, fresh berries, and perfectly scrambled eggs.
In the center of that table was a small box wrapped in yellow paper with a pink bow.
“Shane…” I covered my mouth, eyes wide and fingers trembling as I looked around and tried to take it all in. “What is all this?”
My boyfriend —boyfriend, God that word still made me giddy — looked as cozy as ever in his gray sweatpants andThe Frayhoodie. We’d seen them together over the summer and he’d bought us both the same one in the hopes that I wouldn’t steal his.
Futile hope, that was.
His hair was a mess from sleep, but his grin was that of a boy who’d pulled off the perfect surprise. He crossed the room and took my coffee cup from my hand, setting it on the table next to my breakfast before he swooped me into his arms.
“This is your birthday celebration,” he answered easily, hands smoothing my hair from my face so he could plant a proper kiss on my nose. “One you’ve always deserved.”
I shook my head, blinking over and over and trying to make sense of it all.
“You told me last year when we left for Christmas break that no one ever really cared about your birthday,” he reminded me. “I wasn’t your boyfriend then, but I was still pissed. It killed me to think that a day that should be all about you was instead focused on a holiday. Apre-holiday! It’s not even the real one!”
I laughed. “I mean, technically, it’s the night Jesus was born.”
“Technicallyno one actually knows what night Jesus was born, and it was probably April.Anyway,” he said, waving his hand like we’d gotten off topic. “The point is that we were apartlast year. You were with your family, and I was with mine. But this year, and every year after this, we’ll be together. And I promise that I will always make your birthday special. I will always celebrate you.” He swallowed, his eyes searching mine. “I love you, Ari.”
Tears flooded my eyes. “I love you, too.”
“Now,” he said, waving his hand over his elaborate setup. “Please, m’lady, have a seat and let your boyfriend serve you. After breakfast, we’re going to build a snowman — complete with a party hat — and then I’m taking you to see the newNational Treasure.”
“The sequel that’s in theaters?!”
“The very one. You can drool over Nicholas Cage all day and live out your puzzle-solving fantasies.”
“Can we make snow angels, too?”
