“I know I hurt you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“The past few days of not having you at all hurt more than anything.”
“I don’t ever want to go through that again, Claire. It was pure hell.” Every minute of that hell was as evident on his face as she was sure it was on hers. “I can’t promise you there won’t be times it’s a little weird for me, but I can promise I won’t walk away from you ever again.”
Those were the words she thought she’d wanted to hear, but they weren’t enough. “This isn’t about Brendan and that’s the problem. It has to be about us. You and me, Justin. Just us.”
“I love you.”
She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Justin, I-”
“I love you, Claire. If you take away everybody else and everything else and it’s just you and me, that’s all there is. All that’s left is that I love you.”
Looking into his eyes, that was all that was left. Maybe it wouldn’t be magically easy, but he loved her and he could say it and that was enough. “I love you, too, but-”
“No but, Claire. I love you. You love me. And if we move just a little to the left, we’ll be under the mistletoe.”
“A little to the left, huh?”
“Yup. My left.” He pulled her sideways so she had to shuffle her feet to stay upright. Looking up, he took her by the shoulders and lined her up beneath the sad-looking sprig. “Right there.”
“I’m not letting you kiss me until we’re finished talking about this. About the but.”
He slid his hands down her arms to her hands, where he threaded his fingers through hers. “Then let’s talk about it.”
“I want it all. Marriage and a house, whether it’s yours or one we find together, and kids.”
“Is that a proposal?”
“I guess it is. Will you marry me and have kids with me and kiss me under the mistletoe every Christmas?”
He closed his eyes for a second as the tension seemed to drain out of his muscles, and then he was grinning and lifting her off her feet. “Yes, I want to marry you,” he said just before he kissed her.
When he was finished taking her breath away, he set her back on her feet. “I’d like to stay tonight, if it’s okay. Drive you down to your folks tomorrow and then stay tomorrow night. And the night after that.”
“I’d like that.”
He winced as Moxie started climbing his leg and, after disengaging her claws from his jeans, he cradled the cat and stroked her head.
“She missed you, you know. So did I.”
“I won’t walk away from you again, Claire. Ever.” Then the television caught his attention and he smiled. “You’re watching our movie.”
They made it to the couch in time to watch the Griswold family’s Christmas tree go up in flames and they were laughing as she curled up in his arms, nudging a reluctant Moxie out of her way. The cat sniffed and curled up in her lap.
“I love you,” Justin said against her hair. “I’ve waited so long to say that you’re probably going to get sick of hearing it.”
“Never.” She tilted her head back so he could kiss her. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. And did I mention that I love you?”
Shannon Stacey
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Shannon Stacey lives with her husband and two sons in New England, where her two favorite activities are writing stories of happily ever after and riding her four-wheeler. From May to November, the Stacey family spends their weekends on their ATVs, making loads of muddy laundry to keep Shannon busy when she’s not at her computer. She prefers writing to laundry, however, and considers herself lucky she got to be an author when she grew up.
You can contact Shannon through her website, www.shannonstacey.com, where she maintains an almost daily blog, or visit her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/shannonstacey, her Facebook page, www.facebook.com/shannonstacey.authorpage, or email her at shannon@shannonstacey.com.
