Page 129 of Booked for the Holidays
Chandler: Yeah. I’m well aware.
Theo: We’re on the plane. I’ll let you know when we land.
Chandler: Someone hurry, please. Lucas just put on Christmas music and won’t stop smiling at me.
I chuckle at their responses, feeling sorry for Chandler. Lucas isn’t going to stop smiling at her anytime soon, and she’s in for a long afternoon until the others join her. Plucking the earmuffs away from Bridget’s ears, I kiss her cheek.
“How are you doing, sweetheart? Is anything bothering you?” I keep my voice soft to not startle her, and she smiles when she hears me.
“No, I’m good,” she answers. “Are we on the plane?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you feel me strap you in?”
“I thought you were just trying to get handsy.”
I laugh, lifting the armrest between us so I can pull her into my embrace. “I’ll always get handsy with you, Boylston. You keep me young.”
“The gray in your hair says otherwise, buddy.”
* * *
Bridget joltswhen the wheels touch down, lifting her head away from my shoulder, the spot it’s been for the last hour.
“I fell asleep.” Stretching her arms, she fumbles with the window shade. “Are we there? It feels cold.”
I wait until the flight attendant finishes the arrival announcement and pull the earmuffs away from her ears the final time. “Sort of. We have another forty minutes or so. The airport is small, so we should be in the car soon.”
She’s already smiling even though she can’t see a damn thing. Zipping her fleece jacket up is a hassle, because she won’t stop giggling and fidgeting, cheeks flushed pink with excitement. I pile her into the rental car with our matching suitcases and turn on the seat warmers, driving toward our destination in a content silence.
Yeah, I’m a matching suitcase guy now.
Next will be a minivan.
I finally understood what Bridget meant when she said she wanted a relationship where there wasn’t a need to talk all the time. The quiet is beautiful, an expression of love conveyed through small touches and subtle glances instead of voices and declarations. Sometimes, when she looks up at me from across the couch with a book in her hand, the grin I’m awarded is more meaningful than three little words.
But I still tell her I love her every fucking day.
An hour later, after careful navigation over snow-covered roads and icy intersections, I park the SUV outside the cabin I rented for the week. The wrap-around porch is decked out in lights, roped around the railings and banister. There’s a towering Christmas tree visible through the large front windows, frost fused to glass. Icicles hang from the roof, dangling precariously along the gutters and threatening to fall with any gentle billow of wind. The area around the cabin is a blanket of stark-white snow as far as the eye can see, no other buildings in sight. Smoke puffs from the chimney, a fire burning inside the cozy abode. It’s still and serene, an ambiance of peace reaching through the car and welcoming us with open arms. An owl hoots. A crow caws. It’s everything I thought it would be, and worth every penny.
A portion of my contest winnings went to this trip. The initial proposal of avenue accessibility no longer needs my monetary contribution. I had a meeting with Jamie, who turned out to be a nice guy, outlining the changes I wanted to see accomplished. He listened to my ideas, organizing a team to head up the project which includes curb leveling, additional handicap parking spaces, and street expansion. Once a month a group of us meet, discussing potential designs and firming up an exact budget needed for future tasks. It’s an arduous process with a dozen moving parts, but the important thing is we’reworkingon it, the dream slowly turning from a hazy outline to a sharp reality.
Renting the cabin in Steamboat Springs, Colorado was the only thing I wanted my money to go toward. I’m giving Bridget her white Christmas, and, lucky for us, a blizzard passed through two days ago. The whole town is coated in eighteen inches of fresh powder, a far cry from the 75 degree weather we left behind.
Bridget’s going to be excited and appreciative of the gift, but she’s a lover, happiest when she’s surrounded by important people in her life. I knew she would be bummed spending the holiday away from our families, so I decided to fly them out, too. Lucas and Chandler only argued four times on the cross-country flight, apparently, so we’re off to a good start.
It’s all a carefully calculated plan. Chandler and Mac packed her suitcase. The store is closed for the week, with the promise of fulfilling all online orders when we get home. Her social media followers were understanding when Chandler accidentally revealed the news in a quickly-deleted post, saying they couldn’t wait to see photos of the book nook I made sure the cabin had.
“Okay, angel. Ready for your surprise?”
“I’ve been ready for hours!”
“You remember the night we ate burgers together? After the Christmas tree lot? I asked what made you happy.”
Bridget smiles. Her lips curl up and she fumbles across the car, searching for my hand. When she finds it, her fingers lace through mine. “You did. And you’ve delivered on every single one of them.”
I have. The house, the dogs, dancing in a rainstorm. Making love in a field–our backyard on a rare night alone, under the stars with a crown of flowers in her hair–and fucking in the back of the truck on a weekly basis. We laughconstantly, the muscles in my stomach aching for endless hours from how much fun we have. She cries and laughs through the big, important parts of life. I wipe away her tears and hold her close, encouraging her to never stop dreaming, because she’s going to succeed at anything she puts her mind to.
“Well, we’re missing one. One I haven’t been able to deliver yet. One that’s taken me a long time to pull off.”
