Page 122 of The Crush of Christmas Past
I take the hottest shower my pipes will allow. Mostly to thaw my toes. Partly to figure out the best way to speak my truth.
The longer I stand under the spray, the clearer everything becomes.
There is no perfect way to pledge love.
Maybe it isn’t meant to be contained in a single word. Maybe it lives in the many selfless, fearless deeds that come before the declaration.
Trust. Leap. Surrender.
And perhaps it deepens the simple, beautiful acts that come after.
Laugh. Cherish. Grow.
That’s the kind of love I hold for Theo.
Not just the noun. All of its verbs—and everything they set in motion—too.
I pad out of the bathroom barefaced and damp-haired, rocking a Cotton & Chaos Valentine’s Day tee and a pair of slouchy sweats that have survived one too many wash cycles. The second I round the corner into the living room, the heat in Theo’s gaze melts over me, its intensity making me feel like I’m decked out in diamonds and designer labels.
“Subtle.” He scans the conversation hearts across my chest.
Be Mine. Get Naked.
I shrug. “Thought I’d go for understated tonight.”
“That kind of understated gets you undressed,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a familiar register that makes my knees forget their primary function.
He’s made himself at home on the couch. Considering the thing is a glorified loveseat, two warped planks away from structural failure, the sight of a man that large on a piece of furniture so tiny should look ridiculous.
Instead, it’s picture-perfect. He belongs here. With me.
His thumb brushes against his full bottom lip, and for one wild second, I can’t decide if I’m envious of his mouth or his finger.
Cool it on the lust. Focus on the love.
With Theo, the two blur until they’re one and the same. His heart and hands live in every cell of me. He’s part of my chemistry. Etched into my DNA.
I slide in next to him, claiming my usual spot on his left side.
When has this position become our thing?
I think it traces all the way back to our early days together. He’s a lefty. I’m not. At some point, our dominant sides juststarted gravitating toward each other. He would lean in, and I’d drift closer. Efficiency with a side of intimacy.
The movie I mentioned in passing last week is queued up on his laptop, and he’s laid out our dinner. The weathered coffee table is styled like we’re about to shoot a commercial for Spoon & Slice instead of eat takeout. Food stylists would be proud.
“Today was perfect,” I say, fingers drifting to the key at my throat. “Thank you for my presents.”
He smiles down at me. “You earned every one of those yourself. I simply held up the mirror.”
“Still. It means a lot.” I press my lips together. “Especially since I’ve been struggling lately with thebusinessside of my business. The creative piece has never been a problem, but I’d like your input on some next steps for growth. I want to figure out how to keep the hometown discounts while making more than just emotional profit.”
He nods. “Let’s carve out time tomorrow to go over your rates,” he says. “I bet all they need is a quick tweak. And you could benefit from a thorough, in-depth reminder of just how much you’re worth. Pundefinitelyintended.”
“Theo!” I arch my eyebrows. “Are you turning financial advice into foreplay?”
“Always.”
“Aside from the growing pains…” I pause, rolling the pendant between my fingers. “I’m working with people I believe in on projects I care about. It’s small, it’s scrappy, and it’s mostly held together by optimism and caffeine—but it’smine. And that matters. I’m happy. Really, truly happy.”
