I was never letting go again.
“Love you too,” I murmured, tears welling up in my eyes.
Kit smiled an uncertain little smile. “Does that mean, umm. Do you think I could, uh. Come home? With you?”
“You didn’t have to give all this up just to come home with me,” I said, setting the papers down on the floor beside us. “It’s your home, too.”
“I’ve already gotten the only benefit out of the title that I could ever have wanted,” Kit said, tears shining in his eyes.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Stanley told the airline that the Duke of Hartsworth was coming for this flight and convinced them to delay it so I wouldn’t miss you,” Kit said, sniffing, wiping at his eyes. “It’s the only thing I can think of that I’d ever want to use the bloody thing for, and I’ve done it now.”
I swallowed, reaching out with trembling fingers to touch him, scared he’d evaporate as soon as I did.
Kit was giving up his title for me. His inheritance for me. The future he’d grown up believing he’d have.
Forme.
Because he loved me that much. Because he wantedthisfuture that much.
The future where we got to be Kit and Andy, always, forever.
I burst into tears as I surged forward to kiss him, heart swelling so much it felt like it was about to explode.
“Should I take this as forgiveness?” Kit asked, cheeks flushed, shy again, just like when I’d met him.
Some things never changed, but I was soproudof him. My shy, quiet Kit had finally taken charge of his own life.
I hadn’t known before that he had all of this hanging over him, but the only thing that’d changed was I loved him even more now for the kind, gentle man he was.
“You’re my best friend,” I said, resting my forehead against his. “Forgiveness is part of the deal.”
Kit choked out a laugh that turned into a sob, fresh tears shining in his eyes.
I brushed them away with my thumbs as they fell, cupping his face for another long, slow kiss.
Michael Bublé crooned about what he wanted for Christmas over the sound system, lights twinkled in the background, snow fluttered and fell outside.
As Christmases went, this one had worked out pretty good.
“Andy,” Kit murmured softly. “Much as I adore kissing you, do you think we could continue this somewhere other than the floor?”
I laughed, pecking his lips one last time before using the plastic chair behind me as leverage to stand, offering my hand to Kit.
“Got anywhere in mind?” I asked.
“Well, I was thinking—ah—” Kit hissed as I closed my fingers around his hand.
I looked down and saw it bruised, swollen, and grazed.
“What the hell did you do to your hand?” I asked, helping him up with the other and cradling the injured one as soon as he was on his feet.
Kit being hurt was enough to make me forget everything else that’d happened today. That mattered more to me than any of it.
Which was how I knew this was what I wanted.
“Ah. Well,” Kit rubbed the back of his neck. “I may have, umm. Very slightly, ah. Punched Will in the face.”
