Page 113 of Christmas in Paradise

I press my lips to his, breathing in his warmth while increasing the heat growing between us. He pulls me so close and so tight, my toes leave the ground. I doubt they’ll ever touch ground again. Not if Seb kisses me the way he’s kissing me right now, with enough love and tenderness to make me float and enough desire to make me melt.

When he sets me down, it’s only long enough to ask, “You’re going to stay?”

I nod. “You’re stuck with us, Sparks. Get used to it.”

With a yelp, he lifts me higher and spins in a circle. I throw back my head and laugh. But when he slows, I slide back to the ground.

Our lips meet again in a kiss that makes the rest of the world disappear. There’s only Seb and me.

Tomorrow there will be Charly too.

But right now, I get him all to myself.

He’s mine.

The End

Epilogue

Christmas Eve

MySparksandThomsenfamilies are all gathered together in the Garden of Eatin’ for an early Christmas Eve dinner. The bar is spread with Italian, Scandinavian, and good old American dishes, plus a few desserts made by yours truly. Hope decorated the main table again—like she did at Thanksgiving—but this time there’s lots of red and green. And plenty of mistletoe.

She and Charly are in the opposite corner from me, talking to Pete and Zach, and I can’t keep my eyes off her. Her hair is pulled back in a red headband, and she’s still wearing her wool coat. We came straight from the dance around the Christmas tree in the town square.

It’s a Danish tradition to dance around the tree on Christmas Eve, holding hands and singing Christmas carols, so my family has always done it. I thought we might be the only ones who showed up for the last Yulefest event, but half of Paradise was there. Instead of holding hands to make one circle, we had to make three. The whole thing lasted less than an hour, but the sense of community filled every song. It was the perfect way to end Yulefest.

And Hope made it all happen.

She catches me staring and smiles, the soft light above her creating a halo of her blonde hair. Her eyes pull me closer, but suddenly my way is blocked by a buzz cut with a beer gut.

“Hey Grandpa.” I try to look around him at the more enjoyable view I just lost, but he blocks me again.

“Are you going to ask that girl to marry you?” His voice is gruff in a way that makes his words more of a very strong suggestion than a question.

“What?” I make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and his steely gray eyes bore into me.

“When are you proposing?” He sips his drink—loudly—without breaking eye contact.

“Uh… I… um… I don’t know,” I stutter.

Obviously I’ve thought about it. A lot, to be honest.

Hope is planning to move here in January even though she’s still working out what to do with Charly when she travels. Her first trip is in February. If we were officially a family, there’d be no question about who would take care of Charly: me.

And Mom, of course. I’d need her help during the day.

But if Hope and I had our own place, Charly wouldn’t have to go anywhere at night. She could stay home.

“What’s stopping you?” Grandpa asks.

I blink, trying to pinpoint a reason he’ll find legitimate.

Hope and I have only known each other six months, and four and a half of those were spent apart.

That’s no excuse. My parents knew each other a month before they eloped, and Dad was deployed half the time they were married. They still loved each other like crazy.

I’m still scared I’m not good enough for her or Charly.

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