Page 62 of His Until Christmas

“I want to.” Jack sorts his squares of coloured paper, focussed on what he’s written on them. He meets my eyes. “At least I’ll have even less chance of seeing Lito ever again if I get the job tomorrow and relocate for good.”

“That’s what you want?”

He nods.

“Even though London is life?”

He inhales all the way down to his ankles, then Jack tells me what he’s thinking without needing words to do it. He shows me with a single look I first saw in a restaurant hallway. Hope mixes with worry the same way tonight as then, and I’ve never loved him more than when he tells me, “I want to live wherever you are, so that means Cornwall. I’d still get to visit London monthly, if I do score the new job.”

I’m pretty sure that Rex won’t need to see Jack’s presentation tomorrow to appoint him as the foundation’s fundraising director, but I reach into my pocket and hand over a trio of slightly crumpled packages. “These might help.” I get out my phone too. “And something on here, but open this present first.” I nudge one. “It’s from Pat and Seb.”

Jack gets busy, the only person I know to take paper off this neatly. The anticipation almost slays me until he finally holds a fridge magnet in the shape of a blackboard and Jack reads out the affirmation chalked on to it.

“I am loved.”

He is. By so many more people than me. He can also fly in whatever direction he chooses, which is why I push another gift in his direction. “From Calum.”

He opens this one faster. A Statue of Liberty tree ornament dangles from his fingers, spinning like mistletoe has for us so often. Jack reads the note wrapped around this present. “He says he’ll email me a pair of tickets to New York.” His gaze flicks to the door Carole left through. “I could show Gran the sights. You think she’s ready?”

“One day, for sure.” I open a group chat on my phone I share with my brothers that Calum has filled with videos and photos. “So you absolutely could see these places with her.” I take a seat at the breakfast table where I tried and failed not to stare at Jack once. Now I pull him onto my lap, and he settles back to take a look at what Calum captured for me.

“Oh,” he breathes as a video plays of a Fifth Avenue Christmas window display complete with lights and music. “Gran said there used to be loads like this.” He squints at my screen, tip of his tongue making a split-second appearance. “Right. Visiting Saks has to go on the list for our visit.”

Calum’s next video is of a decorated neighbourhood that Jack coos at. “Dyker Heights in Brooklyn. That isn’t on Gran’s list. I bet she’d love it.”

She’ll love the Christmas tree at the Rockefeller Center as well, according to him, but that isn’t the location I asked Calum to save for last.

“Outdoor ice skating at Bryant Park.” Jack grins at Calum taking us for a spin, and from this close, Jack’s happiness is dazzling. I so want to kiss him, but I have to get this out first.

“Keep watching.”

Calum threads his way through a winter village next, then crosses a street to video a storefront that has Jack suddenly sitting straighter.

“Here.” I pass him the last gift as my phone screen shows racks of stationery with a familiar theme, only to stop on a sticky-note selection mirroring what Jack unwraps.

“Puppies,” he sighs. “Limited edition.”

“To replace the ones you shared with the kids.”

“The first day we got together.”

I’m not so sure about that timing. He’s been the first person on my mind daily for what feels like forever, but I nod instead of kissing him like I want to, and make myself keep going. “Take a closer look at the sticky notes.”

He does. “Oh, no. Someone’s already written on them.” His frown deepens as I watch his lips shape single words I added to each puppy-lined square. “I.” He flips to the next. “Love.” That frown slips away. “You.”

“Same,” I tell him, and fuck it, I go ahead and kiss him while music plays outside and guests clink champagne glasses.

Jack’s eyes are as starry as the sky above this castle, and he’s pink when he gets back to reading. This time he’s silent until he delivers a complete sentence that I wrote right before this party started.

“Want to honeymoon in New York with me?”

Outside this kitchen, there are moneymakers I should be busy meeting. Nothing matters more than staying right where I am and repeating what I’ve been thinking all year long. “I do love you so much, Jack.” I swallow. “Marry me?”

This party will have to wait.

So will honeymoons in New York.

I don’t even need any Christmas presents.

Jack says, “Yes,” and gives me everything I want.

This year, and forever.

The End.

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