Page 127 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

I’m not going to push him harder, not tonight.

Swallowing through a tight throat, I look down at my grandmother’s grave and try to remember her as the titan from my childhood, not the woman with bones so brittle it felt like you could snap them by shaking her hand. “I love you, Grandma Edith. Thank you for bringing Ryan to me.”

He pulls me into his side. “Thanks, Grandma Edith,” he says. “I have trouble believing you wanted us together, but I’ll be damned if I’m not grateful. I…if you wouldn’t mind too much, I’d love it if you could give us a sign that you’re with us.” His eyes dart to me before he continues. “And that you approve.”

My lips part, fresh wonder unfurling inside of me. “Ryan, I love you.”

He draws me in for a soft kiss, his lips cold but his mouth so warm I don’t want it to ever end. When he pulls away, he’s smiling, but I can feel his uncertainty—about my grandmother,about Jake. About not being good enough. I’ll spend the rest of my life wiping that away if I have to.

I glance down at my grandmother’s grave. The remains buried beneath the stone are not my grandmother in any real sense, but this place still feels important. “Please, Grandma. Give us a sign.”

Once we get into the car, Ryan turns toward me, his hands fussing with the wheel. “I thought maybe we’d go see the Christmas tree in Market Square. What do you say?”

It may be crowded, and I’m not sure I can stomach a crowd right now, but I don’t want to disappoint Ryan. He has such a sweet look on his face, and his hair, which was in need of a trim when he arrived, is now always messy—in a tempting way that makes me want to bury my hands in it.

“Okay,” I say.

On the way there, he turns on Christmas carols, and it’s impossible not to smile when he starts singing along. I join him, and by the time we park the car and get out, the holiday spirit is reasserting itself inside of me.

“Now, the first order of business is to get you hot chocolate.”

“I think I drink too much hot chocolate.”

“No such thing.”

He swings our joined hands back and forth, and giddiness fills my chest. We’re together, Ryan’s staying in Williamsburgindefinitely, and in a few hours it’ll be Christmas.

A few minutes later, we’re standing with a dozen other people around the tree. Carolers stroll past, and lanterns have been set out, and it feels incredibly merry.

“Can you put your hot chocolate down for a second?” Ryan asks, giving me a sidelong glance.

“Why?”

“Because you’re getting on my shoulders.”

“What?” I ask, half-laughing, even as my heart lurches in my chest.

“We’re making new memories, Anabelle. I’m going to lift you onto my shoulders every year so you can see the star, because you deserve it every year.”

“Ryan, I can see it anyway,” I object, laughing harder even though my eyes are suddenly hot. “I’m more than three feet tall now.”

“I don’t care.” He swears under his breath and looks around, taking in the presence of other people. “Or…if you don’t want to, it’s okay. I wasn’t really thinking. I—”

“I do want to,” I say, and he gets down for me.

Someone gasps and says, “Look, that man’s proposing,” in a whisper that can probably be heard in the North Pole.

I feel a prickling of awareness and discomfort, but Ryan says, “Nah, that’s next year. I don’t want to freak her out. I’m just giving her a better view.”

“Ryan?” I ask, my heart pounding.Next year.“You’re really staying forever?”

He’s already told me so. Assured me of it. Whispered it to me while kissing his way up and down my body. But I don’t think I can hear it enough. And this…

I stoop down to kiss his mouth and the side of his nose and his eyebrows, and he laughs and tells me to hurry up and get onto his shoulders. The people around us probably think we’re nuts, but I do just that, and he lifts me up. With the wind tousling my hair and Ryan supporting me with his powerful shoulders and arms, the star seems almost reachable.

I really do feel like a Christmas witch.

“You’re my star,” he says, lifting an arm back to touch me.

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