Page 157 of Daddy Sees Snakes

I wish I could erase it, make everything perfect for her.

But life's never that simple, especially not for people like us.

"Hey," I say, tilting her chin up so she meets my gaze. "Let's not think about that right now, okay? It's Christmas Eve. We should be celebrating."

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "You're right. I'm sorry for bringing the mood down."

I shake my head, brushing my lips against hers in a gentle kiss. "Nothing to be sorry for. Your feelings are always valid with me, Iris. Never forget that."

She deepens the kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair.

When we finally break apart, we're both a little breathless.

"So," she says, a mischievous glint in her eye. "How should we celebrate?"

I grin, pulling her onto my lap. "Well, I can think of a few ways..."

Iris laughs, playfully swatting at my chest. "Down, boy. I was thinking more along the lines of a Christmas movie or something."

I groan dramatically, flopping back against the couch cushions. "You're killing me, woman. Fine, what did you have in mind?"

She hops up, practically bouncing with excitement as she moves to the entertainment center. "How do you feel about 'Die Hard'?"

I can't help but laugh. "A woman after my own heart. You sure you don't want something more... traditionally Christmas-y?"

Iris turns to me, hands on her hips.

The firelight casts a warm glow on her skin, making her tattoos seem to shimmer and move. "Vincent Beckett, are you trying to tell me that 'Die Hard' isn't a Christmas movie?"

I hold up my hands in surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart. Turn it on."

As she busies herself with setting up the movie, I take a moment to really look at her.

The way she moves with such grace and confidence, the little furrow of concentration between her brows as she fiddles with the remote.

I still can't believe she's here, that she chose me despite everything in my past.

Iris settles back onto the couch, curling into my side as the opening credits start to roll.

I wrap my arm around her, pulling the throw blanket over both of us.

"This okay?" she asks, glancing up at me.

I press a kiss to the top of her head. "It's perfect."

As John McClane's adventure begins on screen, I find my attention drifting.

Not to the past, or to worries about the future, but to the present moment.

The warmth of Iris against me, the soft crackle of the fire, the twinkling lights on the tree.

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel at peace.

"Hey Iris?" I murmur, not wanting to disturb the moment too much.

"Hmm?" she responds, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

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