Page 105 of Surviving the Merge
A little choked up, Damon answered, “Yeah, I am, and I do.”
My heart was full. Surrounded by friends and the love of my life, doing a job I was born to do. I’d gained so much in a relatively short amount of time, I almost felt undeserving. But then I thought about all that we’d overcome to get here, and it filled me with gratitude.
Through the trauma came the triumph.
Epilogue
We arrived home from the OBH on a high note. Pete’s big solo performance was a hit. And with midnight nearing when we got in, I needed to quickly put my plan into motion. I sent Damon on a late-night drive to get wine. He’d protested but conceded, and I rushed to put the finishing touches on the place before he got back.
The lights were on a mood setting and the last of the candles lit by the time Damon returned.
A glance at my watch told me he was just in time. He froze, his lips curving upwards, taking in all that I’d been up to. Freeing him of his wet umbrella and helping him out of his coat, I said, “Merry Christmas and happy birthday, baby.”
“You remembered.”
Laughing while hanging his coat on the hook, I grabbed his hand and dragged him into the living room. “Yes, I remembered, silly. When have I ever forgotten?”
“Well, it’s been some years since I celebrated a birthday so…”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. That means we’ve got to make this one count.”
Between the tree, the candles and the fireplace, we were nicely lit up. With the rain as our backdrop, I’d say the scene couldn’t have gotten any better. I’d already changed into something comfortable, and I made quick work of getting him out of his clothes before heading off to get the champagne flutes, pouring us both a glass.
“Here’s your gift.” Handing him the box, I got cozy on the floor in front of the fire with him.
“This is the downside to sharing your birthday with Christ. You get one gift instead of two.”
“You hate presents. Now stop stalling and open it.”
He sat my gift down and beckoned for my left hand. Once he had it, he slipped a platinum band, containing a row of emerald and diamond solitaires going around its center, onto the finger that my wedding ring used to occupy. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.
I held up my hand, turning it every which way. The firelight reflected off the stones. Meeting his smoldering gaze, I said, “Yes.”
He hit me with his slow, cocky, one-sided smirk and said, “I know.”
I shook my head. Classic Damon.
“Okay, I see what you tried to do here. You’re not distracting me. Open your gift.”
He sighed dramatically. He rested his glass down on the floor next to his hip in order to take the wrapping paper off the medium-sized box. When he opened it, he found another wrapped box inside. He rolled his eyes at me, then opened that box too. Another wrapped box was inside. “This isn't funny, Justin.”
Damon hated opening presents, and I laughed as he tore apart the third box to find an even smaller box inside.
“Justin!”
Not finding humor in this game anymore or me falling to my back guffawing hysterically, he went to push himself up from the floor. I grabbed his arm to stop him. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He watched me with suspicion but slowly eased back into place. Wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes, I tried for a serious expression. “I promise that’s the last box.” I did the cross-my-heart bit.
He shook the box near his ear and frowned as something insubstantial in weight bounced around inside. The pretty paper and box was ripped to shreds a second later; his eyes remained fixed on mine.
Damon turned the box over his palm, and out fell an intricate Rockford platinum band, the parts locked into place by tiny screws and bolts. Aggressive, but not obnoxious. He turned it over a few times before eyeing me with a squint.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m thinking about it.”
I leaped on him, and we wrestled until I had possession of the ring, forcefully slipping it onto his finger, proclaiming, “You do.”
“I do what?” he asked, doing a poor job at playing slow-witted.
