Page 120 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
He was mine, and I was his. Those were our real Christmas presents. Each other.
And it was the best Christmas ever.
Epilogue: Natalie
One year later…
Snow fell softly outside, illuminated by the elaborate Christmas lights Jensen had strung on our new house and in the yard. It looked peaceful, the large flakes drifting lazily through the air. Nothing like the snowstorm last Christmas.
Thinking about that made me smile as I finished cleaning up the kitchen. It had been a harrowing experience. But also an adventure. And one that had changed the course of my life.
The nurse’s strike had ended the day after Christmas. And the day after that, I’d put in my notice. I still took shifts when they needed coverage, and working part-time at the hospital was great. I could keep up my skills and help out my coworkers. But only when I was in town.
Sometimes I was out hunting art thieves.
Jensen and I had successfully recovered several pieces that year, including an oil painting that had made its way to New Mexico, a statue in Prague, and several vases that we got by posing as buyers in Turkey.
I never knew where the next job would take us. And I absolutely loved it.
Jensen sidled up behind me and slipped his hands around my waist as I dried my hands on a dish towel. Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss on my neck.
“Merry Christmas, darling.”
I hummed with pleasure as his lips traced across my skin. “Merry Christmas.”
“Champagne?”
“I’d love some.”
After one last kiss, he got out a bottle and popped the cork.
We’d spent Christmas Eve with Jensen’s sister and her family, then come back to Tilikum for Christmas Day. Nina and Dylan had been married for a few months—their wedding had been on a gorgeous sunny day in September—and it was their first holiday season as a family. The girls had woken them up before five, so after our big breakfast of pancakes with sprinkles, we’d taken over so Nina and Dylan could nap.
After a leisurely day with my family, full of presents, food, Christmas movies, and lots of hugs from our excited nieces, we’d come home for a quiet dinner. The holiday had lacked the excitement—and danger—of last year, but it had been a wonderful couple of days.
Jensen handed me a champagne flute, then held his up. “Cheers.”
“Cheers. Merry Christmas.”
Taking my hand, he led me into the living room. The Christmas tree illuminated the room, and a fire flickered in the gas fireplace. Holiday music played softly, and while we had our own present mess to clean up, it was nothing compared to the chaos at Nina and Dylan’s.
Jensen pushed the wrapping paper aside with his foot, set our champagne on the coffee table, and gathered me in his arms.With one hand on the small of my back, he drew me close and took my other hand in his. We swayed to the music, and he leaned in to brush my lips with a kiss.
“You’re still the best Christmas present I’ve ever had,” he said.
“So are you.”
“Have you had a nice day?”
“It’s been great.”
“Did you get everything you wanted this year?”
I smiled. “I did. Although I never really made a list. How about you?”
“Not quite.”
“No? Did I miss something you wanted?”
