Page 152 of My Favorite Holidate
We gave her the only answer—yes.
I turn my focus back to Wilder as he studies my face. “I’ll need to get one for you.”
My heart skips ten beats. “You will?”
“Yes.”
That’s all he says.
A simple yes.
This man. This life. This love. It’s so very real. I kiss him chastely, then savor the feel of dancing in his arms as I take in the winter scene. Friends, family, music, snow, and no one here I need to prove a damn thing to.
When I look back at the man in my arms, I say, “You’re my favorite holidate.”
“I’ll be your favorite date every day of the year.”
“Wake up, wake up, wake up! I need to see if my secret door is here.”
I groan at the sound of Mac banging on the door. Of course she knows there’s no portal, but of course she still pretends to believe a little in magic. As I glance at her father, rustling awake next to me, I suppose I do too.
“We’ll be out in fifteen,” I call.
“Excellent. I’ll make cocoa,” she says.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re freshened up, teeth brushed, and dressed in our Christmas jammies. We head down the hall and settle onto the couch in front of the tree, where three cups of cocoa await.
I take a sip, and it’s perfect.
Wilder—no surprise—has plenty of gifts for Mac under the tree from him, including a new instant camera and that Pegasus series with the sprayed edges.
But he starts with one from both of us and hands it to his daughter.
She rips it open, and her eyes spark with excitement. “A chessboard! Yes. And I want to beat you with this one, Dad,” she declares.
“We’ll see about that,” he teases
She beelines for me and gives me a hug. “And thank you. You can learn to play too. And really, you should. I need lots of opponents so I can become the best.”
“Deal,” I say, then I point to the gift I picked out yesterday when I sneaked off to shop for Wilder. “Can you hand that one to your dad?”
Under the tree, Mac grabs a round gift and eyes it suspiciously as she carries it to her father.
Wilder rips it open and tosses his head back in laughter as he spins the globe. “It’s the one I was looking at in the toy store,” he says, seeming too delighted for words as he runs his fingers over the topographic maps.
I am too. “I thought you might like it.”
“I love it,” he says, then kisses me on the cheek. He picks up a small gift for me in a rectangular box.
I’m giddy as I open it since his gifts are always good. Not because of the cost, but because of the thought behind them. I tear off the silver paper and find a dove gray box. I open it, fold down the tissue paper and gasp. It’s a beautiful silver chain with a tiny snow globe charm.
“I had it made for you,” he says, hopeful.
It’s a tiny replica of Evergreen Falls, with a snowy Main Street scene. “I had it made at Play All Day and puton a chain I’d bought from…well, I ordered it online from Made By Fable.”
“You did?” I gasp, but then it hits me. Of course he did. There was an order I received the other week for a single, recycled silver chain. And he added the snow globe. “It’s perfect,” I say, thrilled with the care he put into it.
“I know you wanted the Golden Gate Bridge, but I thought I’d start with?—”