She shakes her head, the wind blowing a strand of hair over her lips. “I thought we put that behind us.”
I reach out, brushing it away, and her lips tremble under my touch. “We did,” I agree. “But I won’t ever forget. It’s what keeps me from making sure we never end up back there.”
She slowly lowers her chin, her stormy eyes locking with mine. “I don’t think that would be possible,” she says. “Not with how we are now. We’re better now.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah, we are.” Her nose is turning red, and another shiver racks her body. “Let’s go back inside.” I laugh. “I’ll get Mom to make us a hot chocolate.”
I turn to usher her inside, but Gracie grabs my arm, yanking me back. “Wait! I’ve actually…I’ve got something for you.”
I look back, flicking one brow up. “What is it?” I ask curiously. We opened our presents this morning at her house before coming here to do more with the family. But there’s no denying that she’s pulling a small box out of her pocket and holding it out to me.
“I wanted to give you this today,” she says, eyes on the black box in her hand. It’s the size of a small jewelry box, with a red-and-green striped ribbon tied into a bow. “But I wanted the moment to be perfect.” She looks back up at me, her eyes creasing at the corners as she grins. “This feels pretty perfect.”
“Every movement with you is perfect,” I argue, but she just laughs, shaking her hand, pressing the box into my chest.
“Open it!” It’s nothing short of a demand, and I reach out pulling the box into my hand. I pull the ribbon cautiously, like I’m handling a bomb, and Gracie lets out an impatient huff that has me moving even slower.
“I’ll take it back,” she threatens.
“No, you won’t.”
She blinks. “No, I won’t, but I’ll annoy the hell out of you for an extended period of time. All the hot firefighters on television. And cops! All the cops.”
My brows lower as I stare at her, hand frozen on the ribbon. “Seriously?”
She flashes her teeth at me in a bright grin before she growls, “Open it!”
“Yes, ma’am.” I pull the ribbon away, dropping it into her outstretched palm and, without ceremony, flip the box open. My breath catches painfully in my throat as I stare at the contents—a cushion of silk and a key nestled on top.
“Rumpel?”
“I know we haven’t talked about it, but it feels right. You spend more time there than you do at home,” Gracie rushes out, barely stopping to take a breath. “I’ve always wanted a home, a place that was mine. I wanted a place where I belonged, somewhere that was permanent and could never be taken away. When your parents helped me get the house…” She blows out a breath, the air misting in front of her face. “I’ve never asked for much, never taken up too much space that wasn’t mine. I just…I existed.” She reaches up, cupping my face in her freezing hands. “Until you. And now I want to ask for everything, and that means having you inourhome, building the future we always envisioned for ourselves.”
My eyes sting, and I don’t try to hide it as I close the box and tuck it into my pocket, not wanting to risk losing it. I wrap my arms back around her, dragging her against me and pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, her tongue warm against mine—a complete contrast to the freezing tip of her nose.
I pull back reluctantly, staring down at the woman who is my entire world. “Yes.”
“Yes?” she echoes on a breath.
“I’mready for our future,” I tell her, voice confident and firm. “I’m ready for anything, as long as we’re together.”
Gracie
I reach across the bed the next morning, searching for Braxton, but the sheets are cool to the touch. I drag my eyes open reluctantly, hearing a thump coming from deeper in the house and the quiet hum of music.
I get out of bed, immediately hunting for some fluffy socks and pulling one of Braxton’s hoodies on before walking out to find my wayward boyfriend. He’s not hard to find, standing in the middle of the living room, half the furniture pushed away from the wall and standing in the middle of a drop cloth, wearing sweats and nothing else. “Um…”
He whirls around, roller in hand and a guilty look on his face. “Morning, Rumpel,” he says brightly. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m feeling…confused,” I tell him, biting back a smile. “What’re you doing?”
I can see the debate going on behind his eyes before he decidesfuck it. “You made a deal with me,” he says determinedly. “You said when I moved in, we could repaint the walls.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “And you needed to do this today?” I demand, widening my eyes at him, and then pointing at the paint. Theequipment. “Where did the paint even come from?”
He touches the back of his neck, eyes shifting away from mine. “I bought it,” he mumbles quietly. “I kept it inDad’s shed. I put it in the back of the truck last night when you were busy helping Mom.”
“Okay,whendid you get it all?”
