Page 175 of Miami Ice

And every time I step into my studio to work, I’m reminded of just how much Beckham loves me.

I hum along to the Christmas music I have playing as I work. I moved in with Beckham in June, once the Miami Manatees were eliminated in the Eastern Conference Finals.

I frown for a moment, remembering how it was so hard to make it to a Game 7 and lose the series. Beckham was upset, of course, but he also knew he and the team did everything they could to win the series. We were also down two key players, with Wyatt out with a lower body injury and the starting goalie missing the last game due to concussion protocol. It was a long, physical series, and in the end, the Manatees just couldn’t make it all the way to the championship.

We took a vacation right after the Manatees were eliminated, heading off to Turks and Caicos so Beckham could rest and recover. It was there, when walking along the white sand beaches and gazing out over the turquoise water, that I told Beckham I had no plans to renew the lease on the apartment when Ella moved out at the end of the month, and in fact, I planned to move in with him. The joy that spread over his face was a moment that it etched in my mind. I remember how he picked me up and swung me around, then how he kissed me on that beach and told me how much he loved me.

Now this is my home.

And I love living here with Beckham.

He respects my work schedule and does his own thing while I’m up here working. He does his workout and takes Winston for several walks a day. He’s become very close with Antoni, and as he’s in his off-season, too, they hang out together. Antoni will be over here playing video games, or Beckham goes over to Antoni’s to work out or shoot hoops. If Aiden and Wyatt are in town, he spends time with them. Beckham runs any errands that need to be done and makes lunch for the both of us every day. I told him he doesn’t have to do that, but Beckham says he enjoys it, so I let him.

I spend time with my friends, too, having a once-a-month girls’ night out dinner with Ella, Chloe and Emilee. I’ll have lunch with Scarlett or get a coffee with Becca; and Chloe will come over for lunch or dinner. It’s important to me to nurture these bonds, and I enjoy the time I spend with my friends and my twin.

My twin. I smile as I continue to paint my jar. We still share our amazing bond, and I see her quite a bit. Jordan and Beckham get along well, so we do double dates all the time. In fact, at the end of the month, they are coming up with us to Wisconsin to spend time at a lake house Beckham has rented.Beckham got a spacious house in the Chain O’ Lakes region where he’s from, and we’re going to spend our time enjoying the lakes, chilling out, and drinking wine by the fire at the end of the night. I can’t wait to see where Beckham grew up. I’ve met his parents, of course, and I absolutely adore them. I can’t wait to see the inn and get to know them even better. I also can’t wait to see Beckham’s high school and experience the town where he grew up.

But we won’t leave until after my big Christmas in July show that is happening in the middle of the month. I’m already taking pre-orders, and of course, my Christmas jars are outselling everything else.

What a turnaround from the previous summer!

My business took off thanks to Becca and Beckham sharing my jars on social media. I have steady orders, I sell out at shows, and I’m busy everyday replenishing stock or shipping. I feel so blessed that so many people love my jars and I’m able to finally make a living doing something I love.

Buzz!

I glance over at my phone, and it’s Beckham. I smile. I love that he texts me even though he’s downstairs. I set aside my paint brush and read his text:

Cupcake. What do you want for lunch? You know I’ll eat whatever you want I don’t care.

I chuckle at that. That’s my Beckham.

I glance around my workshop—which Beckham hasn’t seen since he left this morning to workout with Antoni—and decide it’s time for him to see what I’ve done.

I text him back:

I think a salad with salmon sounds nice. Can you come on up here to the studio first, though? I want to show you something.

Beckham Bailey is typing …

On my way.

I pick up my brush and finish up the jar I’m working on. By the time I hear Beckham on the stairs, I’ve completed the final coat and set it aside.

When Beckham reaches the threshold of the studio, he stops. I grin at him as his doe-eyes take in the studio, which I have decked out for Christmas. I have a Christmas tree in one corner of the room, fully decorated with confectionery ornaments, and faux garlands with twinkling multi-colored lights adorn the tops of the windows.

And, of course, Christmas music is blasting from my Spotify playlist.

Specifically, “Sleigh Ride.”

From the look on his face, I can tell Beckham has no idea why the room is sprinkled with Christmas décor and I’m listening to Christmas music.

“Grumpy. Do you know what day this is?” I ask excitedly, getting up from my seat.

He pushes down on his backwards baseball cap. “It’s not Christmas.”

“No. But it’s July first.”

Beckham’s face lights in recognition as his hands find my hips. “Oh, God, it’s Christmas in July.”

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