Page 86 of Love Letters to Christmas

“Who cares about making me happy?” Brian asks, pushing off the wall as the elevator lands at the basement floor.

“Um…I do?”

“Clearly, I make myself happy—much to the chagrin of all surrounding individuals.” He strides out when the doors open. “Or did you miss the part where I twisted rules and abused my boss’s credit card in a loose scheme to woo you mere minutes before a love letter with your handwriting arrived and informedme that I did not really need to woo you much at all, so I kept up the guise purely to get more pretty love letters while using the woo scheme to make memories instead? Come now, precious. I called the website Love Letters to Christmas. Love Letters toAmeliaChristmas, if we’re being precise.”

My lips part. “Christmas in July…was a plot to…”

“To gain your affection, yes.” He enters his office while I trail awkwardly behind him. Opening the top drawer of his desk, he removes an envelope and twists it to show me a seal boasting a sprig of mistletoe. “This isn’t about me, A-mail-ia. I’ll just do whatever.” He lifts the letter above his head. “This is about you. What you’re comfortable with right now. What will let you find the most peace. That’s what love’s about, after all. Putting someone else first in the moments when they need something more than you do. I enjoy spending time with you. I will continue to enjoy spending time with you. I want what’s best for you. But I’m also absolutely not going to argue if you come over here…and kiss me.” His eyes half-lid. “That choice is yours. And whatever happens after is also yours. I’ll support you, and love you, through anything. So…what doyouwant?”

I…don’t know.

I want the voices in my head to sound more like his, right now. I want to be strong and confident. I want…

Brian looks down at me, inches from him, standing beneath the raised card and mistletoe. I don’t know when I moved. I don’t know much at all. His lips soften and curl. “Is this an answer, or are you just in a trance?”

“I’m not sure.” My heart won’t stop racing. “Will you…” I close my eyes, try to breathe through the unnecessary duress. “I don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to ruin our chances.”

“You can’t.”

“I want to be good to you. I want to be better to myself. Will you help me find help, if we do this?”

“Do or don’t, of course I will.”

“Are you…sure you want me?”

He cups my chin in his free hand and catches a tear that falls on his thumb. “Oh, Amelia…” Leaning in, he kisses the corner of my eye. “You are lovable. And likable. And precious. Not because of anything you do, but because of who you are. I am very sure that I have never wanted anything more… I have seldom wanted anything half so much, and the last time I came close, it was when I was bemoaning not having been the person chosen to be your penpal and receive your letters in third grade.” The tip of his nose brushes mine. “May I have the honor of loving you, through the moments when you feel broken and to the day when you will feel whole?”

My fingertips graze his wrist, clutching him for stability. “That almost sounds like…”

“A proposal?” His breath ghosts across my cheek. “Probably because it is.”

When his lips meet mine, I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t think anything could prepare me for the way Brian sweeps me off my feet. Warmth flows into me, settling in my chest, and my heart calms. As I melt into his arms, unwelcome doubts flee. Air eludes me after a minute, and Brian laughs as he frees my mouth .

“Easy,” he murmurs, voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. He holds me tight, lips brushing the crown of my head. “You can have as many as you want. Anywhere you like.”

I flush, peeling myself back just enough to find my Brian’s not-so-innocent eyes.

He wiggles his brows.

I cover my face and hide against his chest. “Stop it.”

“What? Can’t handle how specific they are when they dance?”

I whimper. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Possibly not.” He squeezes me tight. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I mumble into my fingers.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

I press my cheek to his heart, hear it hammer. “Promise?”

“I do.”

Epilogue

A letter a day keeps Brian fed.

---