Page 59 of The Christmas Letters
I stand up and stretch my arms over my head. “I need something to drink. Anyone else need anything?”
Drew shakes his head, reaching out to squeeze my fingers as I move away. Warmth surges up my arm at his touch. I hope that feeling doesn’t go away for a long time—the way he makes me feel sowhole.
My phone is sitting on the counter in the kitchen, and I pick it up, checking my messages with one hand while I fill up a glass of water from the fridge with the other.
I have at least a dozen texts from Chloe. I’ve been movie-marathoning with Drew and his grandmother for hours, so the first message came in hours ago. It’s a picture of ten-month-old Charlotte who is spoiled and rotten and absolutely perfect. But after that, the texts grow more and more urgent. My eyes widen as I read each message until I’m finally laughing, one hand pressed over my mouth.
Chloe:Hey. You busy? You need to call me.
Chloe:I’m serious, Tess. You should call me RIGHT THIS SECOND.
Chloe:Seriously? What are you doing right now that is so much more important than me? I need you!
Chloe:I mean, I’m fine. This isn’t an ACTUAL emergency. But definitely still call me when you can.
Chloe:Fine. I’m tired of waiting. I’m just going to TELL YOU.
Chloe:I’m pregnant. Again. Still in shock. Deacon is going to lose his mind. But YAY!!!
Chloe:Also, do you remember when I sent Deacon to the store the other day for strawberry ice cream and Cheez-Its because I wanted to eat them together?
Chloe:THIS EXPLAINS SO MUCH.
Drew appears in the doorway of the kitchen. “What’s up?” he asks. “You okay?”
I put down my phone and turn to face him. “It’s Chloe,” I say. “She’s pregnant again.”
He smiles wide. “That’s great! How does she feel about it?”
“She seems pretty excited. Here. Look.”
He moves up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder as I show him Chloe’s texts.
“Cheez-Its and ice cream, huh? I can maybe understand the appeal.”
“It was way worse when she was pregnant with Charlotte,” I say. “Her cravings were terrible.”
“I bet,” Drew says.
I put down my phone and spin in his arms, tucking myself against his chest. “Will you be this patient with me when I’m grouchy and pregnant?”
“Planning ahead, are we?”
I shrug. “It’s what I want. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.
“You want to be grouchy and pregnant?”
“Don’t pretend like you’re surprised. And I’ve seen you with baby Charlotte. You want kids just as much as I do.”
“Not just any kids,” he says playfully. “Your kids. Which…speaking of…there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He presses his hand over mine and slides it up to the front pocket of his shirt.
There’s something bumpy inside the pocket, and my breath catches as I feel the ridges of whatI thinkis a ring.
I eye Drew suspiciously, and he smiles. “We can make it official if you want.”
“Andrew Maxwell McKay. Are you proposing to me right now in your grandmother’s kitchen?”
“I was planning on asking you on New Year’s, but Grandma Pearl just gave me the ring, and then you brought up having kids, and I just thought—” His eyes dart away like he’s nervous. “I can ask you better. Make it a real proposal.”
