Page 159 of Now and Then

I stare at the black turkey, grab the oven mitts, haul the bird out like a battlefield casualty, and deadpan, “It’s a beaut, Clark.”

At that, everyone falls into hysterics, and it’s too damn funny not to join them.

“I guess it’s a good thing I have steaks thawing,” Hunter says.

Jackie pats my back. “Everyone ruins the turkey the first time they host,” she says. “In fact, mine looked fine until Rhett went to cut it open, and it sort of imploded.”

“I didn’t burn mine.” Mom links her arm with mine. “I forgot to thaw it.”

Greer is suspiciously quiet.

“Greer?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but,” she says, “mine turned out perfect. Granted, it was probably because Brian watched over it like a hawk.” Her smile softens at her late husband’s name.

No matter what, those three little words are always followed by something soul crushing.

Hunter kisses the side of my head. “Steaks?”

I accept turkey defeat and shrug. “It is what it is,” I say.

Within minutes, Luke has the cast-iron skillet warming, Hunter is seasoning the fillets, and Jackie cozies up to the island to tell us about the time Hunter caught her curtains on fire when he was six.

By the time the last toast is made and everyone hugs goodbye, the quiet settles like soft snow on the roof. The only light is the Christmas tree, casting colorful patterns across the living room.

“That was eventful,” Hunter says.

He really sucks at hiding his stupid little smile.

“You are the worst.” I punch his shoulder. But as I stand in the living room and take in the remnants of a very successful first Christmas Eve as an official couple, I’m overcome with happiness. And exhaustion. “You’re right though, it turned out pretty great.”

Hunter comes up behind me. “You did good, babe.”

He pulls me into the living room, and we snuggle into the couch. I slip my shoes off. Hunter lifts my feet into his lap and massages them. His hands wander up my calf, around my knee, and under my skirt, but my tights make it impossible for him to do much else.

“You look beautiful,” he says, “but these tights are a pain in my ass.”

I shrug and nestle into his chest. The thump of his heart and the whoosh of his breath lull me into a state of zen. It’d be so easy to fall asleep like this, but the night’s still not over. “I have a gift for you,” I say.

His hand grips my hip. “Are you pregnant?”

“What are you even talking about?” My chest rumbles in laughter. “Of course I’m not pregnant! We should probably get married, or, you know, at least live together for a while before that, right?”

He shakes his head. “Most people need years to date to know if that person is their person. But we’ve known each other our whole lives. Sure, there are going to be things we learn about one another through time. But the big stuff? The important stuff? We already know all that. I’ve known you’re my person since that day—”

“I kicked your ass playing cards?”

He laughs. “That was the day I knew my feelings were more than platonic. I knew I loved you the day I searched for your purple rain boots.”

“Man,” I say wistfully, “those boots were the best.”

“So . . . what did you get me?”

I smile and start upstairs to our bedroom. He attempts to follow, but I spin, placing a hand on his chest. “You. Stay.”

His eyes spark with mischief, but he remains sitting. I back toward the stairs and fly up them at lightning speed.

“You know this is torture,” he hollers as I’m closing our bedroom door.