Page 132 of The Crush of Christmas Past
My feet falter, but his strong arms keep me from falling.
“What do you think?” He spins me to face him. “Up for taking a peek?”
“At forever?”
A warm grin splits his face. “I thought we could start here.” He stops to reach into his pocket for a tiny jewelry box.
Much too small to contain a ring.
Months ago, that might’ve made me breathe easier. Now, a strange flutter of disappointment stirs under my ribs.
I want nothing more than an eternity with this man.
“Open it,” he says.
Retrieving the box from his hand, I lift the lid, and—freeze.
Inside is a delicate pendant shaped like an old-fashioned key. It’s similar to the tiny replica of the town key Theo gifted me on Valentine’s Day.
Except, this one is even more familiar.
“Is this…?” My voice breaks off. “Theo, is this—my key?”
A miniature version of the key to my childhood home glints in my palm. I’d recognize it anywhere by the stars my mother had engraved on the bow.
“I don’t understand,” I say, frowning.
Theo clasps his hand over mine, trapping the jewelry between us. “The family who bought it from you is relocating across the country for work. They remembered your story and are open to a private sale.”
My breath stutters.
I’d given up hope of ever again walking those halls.
But now…
“I’m thinking of taking a step back at the firm,” he says. “We’ve brought on some new partners, and I want to shift my focus to longer-term campaigns that allow for more time at home.” He lifts my hand—the one still firmly clutching the pendant—and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “If you’re interested, I want that home to be with you.”
Words catch in my throat as a tsunami of emotions rips through me, sweeping away my ability to form a single coherent sentence.
“For once, I can’t tell what you’re thinking, Sunshine.” He squeezes my hand. “Just know I didn’t do anything as impulsiveas making an offer. I want us to take that next step together.” His thumb brushes a tear from my cheek, coming to rest at the curve of my jaw. “And if the idea of living there hurts too much, we can look at other properties. No pressure. I just thought—if we’re heading towardforever, maybe we should find a place to put it.”
When I don’t reply, he ducks his head to meet my gaze. “Hey. I’m right here. Breathe.”
My hand drifts to my sternum. “I think my heart stopped beating.”
“In a good way, I hope?” he asks with a questioning softness so far removed from his usual stoic confidence.
“In the best way. Now I just have to decide whether to beg you to hold me while I bawl or hand over the gift I got you.”
“I can do both. I can do it all, Isla.”
We stay like that until our heartbeats fall into a steady sync.
“Once again, our gifts match,” I murmur.
“Matching gifts? Oh,no. What will we do with all the houses?”
“Not quite a house,” I say. “But it fits the theme ofhome.” Slipping from his arms, I retrieve my clutch, hands trembling as I pull out the ornament I made last week. “Ready?”
