Page 99 of Holly Ever After

“Yeah. She finally agreed to some home help, and the doctors have found the right medication. I know there’ll be darker days, but I’m grateful for today.”

“I’m here to help too.” She runs her hands through my hair, content. “Thought I'd give you another present,” she murmurs, handing me a neatly wrapped package.

I glance at it, then back to her. “We've already exchanged gifts.”

“I know,” she says with a playful shrug. “But I also know you give your mom one of my books every year for Christmas.”

I smirk, taking the package from her. “Noticed that, did you?”

“I was a little late on my deadline, but somehow managed to get my publishers to print me an early copy.”

As I peel away the wrapping, her blush deepens. It’s sexy as hell. Removing the book from its confines, I catch the cover—her latest novel.

“You might like the dedication,” she adds, biting her lip and trying to suppress a smile.

Curiosity piqued, I arch a brow and swiftly flip to the dedication page. My eyes scan the words, and a moment later, I throw my head back and laugh.

She’s beaming down at me, her eyes filled with that familiar mischief. In the next breath, I pull her close, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that communicates everything words fail to.

When we finally part for air, I lean my forehead against hers, grinning like a fool.

Her fingers play with the collar of my shirt. “Thought you'd appreciate it.”

“I do,” I murmur, pulling her in for another kiss. “More than you know.”

“Oh, there’s one more thing.”

“Holly, I don’t need more gifts—”

“I love you.”

I smile so wide my face hurts.

Now that’s a gift.

She grazes her lips against mine. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” I tell her, pulling her onto my lap before I reread the dedication:

To my local carpenter,

Thank you for the inspiration.

Epilogue

Nine years later

Holly

The winter air bites at my cheeks, turning them rosy with more than just the chill as everyone around us counts down. “Three... Two... One... Happy New Year!” The crowd in Pine Falls' town square erupts. Up above, the fireworks burst, splashes of color against the starry night, mirrored in Sean's eyes as he turns to me, his grin an infectious curve in the darkness.

I barely have time to catch my breath before his lips find mine, a warm, familiar promise that's always echoed in every kiss. It's a conversation of laughter, of tears, of arguments so heated they could start fires, and reconciliations that could put them out. It's our own language, refined through the years.

He breaks away, his breath a whisper against my mouth. “Happy New Year, Squirt.”

“Happy New Year,” I whisper back, heart full to bursting as Sean bends down to our little man, Ethan, who's cheering on the fireworks display. He's all Sean, especially that mischievous spark in his eyes. “Happy New Year,” Sean murmurs, kissing Ethan's forehead. “Daddy loves you to the moon, kiddo.”

“I love you even bigger!” Ethan yells, his tiny arms grappling for Sean's neck, his small frame buzzing with unrestrained joy.

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