His brow is furrowed in confusion. “I meant that I couldn’t lose us. I couldn’t lose me and you, together.”
“On the job?”
He takes another step forward, shakes his head. “God, I have messed this up,” he says, more to himself than to me. “No. Kris, no. I’d lose the business tomorrow, if it meant staying with you, being with you. As friends, as—as what we were last night. Anything.”
“You’ve always put the job first. In your top place.”
“I’ve made mistakes about that in the past. I know I have. But Kris, with you—I thought you’d think it was a bad idea, to try with me. So I made a rule for myself. I’d never let my feelings for you get in the way of just—getting to be with you. Be around you every day, at work. It’s the best thing I’ve got, having that with you, and I couldn’t lose it.”
I’m sure the bell is ringing; I’m sure it is. But all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating.
“Why—” My voice is a little shaky, like the timbre of the bell after it’s been rung. “Why did you think you’d lose it?”
“Any reason, really. You decide it’s a mistake, because of work—which would be fair enough, given everything you’ve seen. Or one of us messes up at it, and we can’t make our way back together. Or—even if you’d decided you had felt that way about me, maybe your feelings would change eventually.”
“Or maybeyourfeelings would change,” I say.
He gives me a long, determined look. AJasper-on-the-joblook. “My feelings wouldn’t change.”
I roll my eyes, look down at my borrowed boots. One night, and he’s suddenly got all the confidence in the world about the way he feels. “Okay.”
“Kristen.” He waits. Waits for me to look back in those determined eyes. “They wouldn’t. They won’t. They haven’t, not in all the six years I’ve known you. They have never changed.”
“Six years?” It’s almost a whisper.
“Six years.” His voice is clear. Not loud, but not quiet, either. “Every day. I guess I should say—they have changed. Because when I first met you, I thought you were smart and kind and beautiful and completely out of my league, and every day that passed I knew that more and more, and I’ve been in love with you for that long, and yesterday was the best day and the best night of my life, even if it did ruin your Christmas.”
“Jasper.” It is a whisper now, pressed out through tears gathering in my throat, and because I know the next part will be too, I reach out and grab the front of his coat, pull him under the porch overhang with me, just as another clump of snow falls, this time hitting the ground. “You didn’t ruin my Christmas.”
He ducks his head, places his hands over mine.
“I’m in love with you, too,” I say, and then he looks up, meets my eyes briefly before closing his in what seems to be plain, simple relief.
“People’s feelings,” he says quietly, tipping his head down and resting his forehead against mine. “People who loved me, once. My family. Their feelings changed. I’ve been afraid of that, with you. Afraid of trying, for what I might lose. The job—it felt like the only way I could have you in my life.”
I move my hands from his coat, bring them up to his cold cheeks, feel him wrap his arms tight around my waist. “I’ve loved you a long time too. And I was afraid too. Of not being . . . in your top place, I guess. I didn’t think I could ever handle that. Being with you, but always knowing the job would be more important.”
He lifts his head, but keeps me close. “You’re in the top place. Forever. I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter about the Dreyers. We can go back there, and you’ll see. I won’t say a damn word about the patent. I’ll sing a Christmas song with them, whatever you want. I don’t care.”
I shake my head, a tear-soaked laugh in my throat. “You don’t have to sing,” I say, and then we’re kissing, my back against the door of the cottage, Jasper broad and strong and hungry against me, his arms lifting me those few inches we need to be level. It’s cold and bright and perfect, a Christmas morning kiss, and the only reason I break it is because I can’t stop from smiling in perfect happiness.
“Kris,” he whispers to me, right against my lips. “Imissedyou.”
I somehow know what he means, know what it means to him to admit it, and I hold him tighter, pressing my mouth to his again, and he smiles now, that scar-side of his mouth tipping away from mine first, until he’s got to simply hold me, pressing his smile into the cold strands of my hair.
“Jasper,” I say, tipping my chin up so he’ll hear me. “Come to Michigan.”
I feel his smile widen. “Yeah?”
I nod. “As soon as we can get on a flight together. I don’t want you to miss it.”
We both pull back then, just enough so we can smile at each other. Jasper lifts a hand, swipes his thumb gently across my cheek, catching a few stray tears. I don’t think he’d mind knowing his eyes are a little shiny too. All of a sudden I see Christmases stretch out in front of us, years of cookie making and movie watching and kissing past midnight.
“We’ll have to talk about it, you know,” I say, placing my hands on his chest. Even through his coat I think I can feel the holiday bell of his heart. “How to make sure it works between us. We’ll have to lay some ground rules for—this. This relationship, and our relationship at work.”
He leans back, smiling down at me before leaning down to give me a quick, soft kiss.
“Kris,” he says, his voice husky, his eyes soft. “That’s not going to be a problem.” Another kiss, this one more lingering. “I’m good at following rules, when it comes to you.”
