Page 54 of Substitute Santa
“Or soulmates,” Wade said. “When a shifter meets the person who’s right for them—the person theyfitwith, and always will—the shifter knows.” He stepped closer and put his hand on her cheek. “Time stopped when I met you. And I knew, right away. But I didn’t know that you would, so I thought I needed to play it cool.”
He had never needed to do that.
“But I didn’t let you,” Mira said, so overwhelmed by joy that she couldn’t help the ear-to-ear smile spreading across her face. “I wasn’t exactly being cool myself.”
She laced her hands together behind his neck and leaned against him.
They were meant for each other. They belonged together.
She had watched a lot of love stories over the years, and now she knew for sure that she was in her own. They would have a whole life together, and they would watchChristmas in Connecticut(maybe she could have him guest-star on her podcast?) and play chess with one of his hand-carved sets. The cats would try to knock over the pieces. She would be the Lady of the Winter, and he would be Snow, for as many years as the kids needed them. Oh, she was totally taking that job now. Their cabin in the mountains next year would have to give them a snowy New Year’s Eve instead. She’d been given a Christmas miracle, and suddenly she wanted to spend her life making thempossible for everyone else, too. Opening their eyes to love stories and the fun of the season.
But they could get to the future day by day. For now, it was Christmas Eve, and she was going to wake up with him on Christmas morning. That was more than enough to get started with.
“I love you,” Wade said, looking down at her.
Mira thrilled to the words like they were her new favorite Christmas carol. “I love you too.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth. “Want to make love until it’s Christmas?”
Wade kissed her back in a way that showed her just how good he thought her proposal was.
“Although,” Mira said when the kiss finally stopped—when she was sagging against him to try to stop her knees from giving out completely—“I don’t know what we’ll give each other for Christmasafterthat.”
“More love,” Wade suggested, passing her a flute of champagne.
She was happy to drink to that and even happier to kiss to it. She didn’t care if it went on so long that all the bubbles fizzed out of the champagne. He was the only celebration she had ever needed—and he’d brought her the best Christmas she’d ever had.
