Page 28 of Once Upon a Holiday Vacation
Easton flipped open the cover, his eyes widening as he read the inscription I’d penned inside. “‘For all the stories you’ve yet to tell, and the dreams you’ve yet to chase. I can’t wait to be part of them all. Love, West.’“
His eyes, when they met mine, were shining with unshed tears. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.
I took his hand in mine, squeezing gently. “You’ve always had the most incredible imagination, East. I want you to fill these pages with your own stories, your hopes, your wildest dreams, anything you want. And I want to be there, cheering you on every step of the way.”
He launched himself at me, nearly knocking us both off the bed as he wrapped his arms around my neck. “Thank you,” he murmured against my skin.
As I held him close, I realized that this—this moment, this feeling—was the real gift. And I was never letting it go. “So, what do you say we get some breakfast then head down to one of the lounges? I heard they’re playing Christmas movies all day,” I suggested.
Easton’s face lit up. “Really? That sounds perfect.”
We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of cream cheese stuffed French toast, fresh fruit slices, and bacon then made our way to the ship’s main lounge, our fingers intertwined. The space was transformed into a cozy winter wonderland, with colorful lights and garlands adorning every surface. A massive screen dominated one wall, currently showingIt’s a Wonderful Life.
“Oh, look!” Easton exclaimed, pointing to a popcorn machine in the corner. “Want some?”
I nodded, inhaling deeply. “Mm, nothing beats that buttery smell.”
We settled onto a plush loveseat, Easton curling into my side as if he’d always belonged there. As the familiar story unfolded on screen, I found myself paying more attention to the warmth of his body against mine, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
“This is nice,” I murmured, my lips close to his ear.
He hummed in agreement, snuggling even closer. “It’s perfect,” he whispered back. And as Jimmy Stewart’s George Bailey rediscovered the magic of his life, I realized I was experiencing a little Christmas magic of my own.
I couldn’t resist trailing my fingers along Easton’s arm, reveling in the goose bumps that rose in their wake. He shivered slightly, turning those hazel eyes on me with a mixture of amusement and desire.
“West,” he whispered, a hint of playful warning in his voice. “We’re in public.”
I grinned, unrepentant. “Can’t help it, East. You’re irresistible.”
He blushed, burying his face in my shoulder. “You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled, but I could feel his smile against my skin.
As the movie switched over to one of our favorites,Home Alone, we fell into our usual banter, quoting lines and debating plot points. It felt so natural, so right, that I almost forgot we were surrounded by other passengers.
“Hey,” I said softly, during a lull in the dialogue. “Is it weird that I can’t seem to keep my hands off you?”
Easton’s eyes widened behind his glasses, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Weird? No. Flattering? Definitely.”
I chuckled, pulling him closer. “Good, because I don’t think I could stop if I tried.”
As the afternoon faded into evening, we reluctantly left our cozy nest to prepare for the formal Christmas dinner. The ship’s grand dining room was a sight to behold, decked out in elegant gold and crimson decorations. A live band played Christmas music softly in one corner.
“Wow,” Easton whispered, taking in the scene. “It’s like something out of a fairytale.”
I squeezed his hand, drinking in the wonder on his face. “You look pretty magical yourself,” I said, admiring how he looked in his suit and tie. All around us, couples and families were settling in at their tables, the air filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses.
An elderly couple to our left caught my eye, smiling warmly at us. “Merry Christmas, boys,” the woman said, her eyes twinkling. “You two make a lovely pair.”
I felt a surge of pride, wrapping an arm around Easton’s waist. For the first time, it didn’t feel like we had to pretend. “Thank you,” I replied, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
As we settled into our seats, I couldn’t resist sneaking looks at Easton. The flickering candlelight illuminated his features, emphasizing the perfect arch of his cheekbones and the warmth in his hazel eyes. I longed to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real and not just a figment of my imagination.
“What?” he asked softly, catching me staring.
I shook my head, smiling. “Nothing. Just... you look incredible tonight.”
A blush crept up his neck, and he ducked his head shyly. “You’re not so bad yourself, West.”
Throughout dinner, we fell into a rhythm of secret touches and meaningful glances. Each brush of our hands as we reachedfor our glasses felt electric. Every time our eyes met over the rim of a wine glass, I felt my heart skip a beat.
