Page 27 of Merry Kissmas, Baby
“Yeah.” I grin. “And I’m saying yes.”
I flip open the box.
The ring catches the porch lights — a simple gold band, small carved details along the edges, nothing flashy, exactly her.
Her hand flies to her mouth. “It’s perfect.”
I take her left hand. “Dahlia Rose Connors, will you marry me?”
She lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Obviously yes.”
I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly. She throws her arms around my neck, kissing me hard, and the lights above us sway with the momentum.
When we break apart, breathless, she leans her forehead against mine. “Cyrus?”
“Yeah?”
“I love this. All of this. You. The cabin. The holidays. Everything.”
“I know,” I say, kissing her again just because I can. “I love you too.”
She pulls back suddenly, eyes bright. “Wait. I brought something for you.”
She digs in her bag and pulls out a small wooden box. Familiar.
I open it.
Inside is an ornament — smooth, sanded, carved with tiny spruce trees and a date.
Today’s date.
“You made this?” I ask, throat tight.
“Of course,” she says. “It’s tradition now.”
I hang it on the little pine tree I dragged onto the porch just for tonight. The sun dips lower, the shadows stretch, and the lights blink to life all around us.
Dahlia slips her hand into mine. The ring shimmers on her finger, steady and sure.
“Ready to start forever?” she asks.
I smile, pulling her against me. “Already did.”
And under the warm July sky, with Christmas lights glowing and her ornament turning slowly in the breeze, I kiss her like I intend to kiss her every day for the rest of our lives.
