SHAWN ALMOST SPRINTS to the tree, and I’m amazed he doesn’t fall and hurt himself on the rug.
He grabs a bag and hands it my way. I laugh at his enthusiasm and sit on the couch, getting comfortable as I drape a blanket over my legs.
“Lacey,” he says in warning, and my laugh grows deeper.
“Okay. Hang on.” I pull the tissue paper out and watch it fall to the floor. “It feels heavy.”
“Stop shaking it, Daniels. You might break it,” he says, and he wraps his arms around my waist. His chin settles on my shoulder and he watches me wrestle with the bag.
“Okay, it’s a box in a bag—a stethoscope?”
“I know men in the past have made you feel like you can’t celebrate all these incredible successes in your life, including your job. It’s a reminder that the person who loves you—” he pauses for a second, and I swear his fingers tighten around my waist—“the person who cares about you will think you have the coolest career in the world. You change lives, Lacey, and not a single goddamn person should ever diminish that.”
“This is—Shawn. This is not a cheap gift.” I bring the metal to the inside of his wrist and slip the ear pieces into my ears. “I can hear your heart.”
“Thank god. Means I’m alive and the gift works. Two birds, one stone.”
“It’s beating fast.” I pull off the headset and look at him. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” He nods and clears his throat. “Guess it just beats faster around you.”
I’ve heard the joke a million times and it’s always been so corny, but I like it when he says it. It doesn’t sound like he’s trying to be funny.
It sounds completely true.
“Thank you. I’ve been wanting a new stethoscope. This is perfect.”
“Did I pick the right one? I asked Maggie and Aiden for help, and they—”
“I love it,” I say, interrupting him. “It’s my favorite brand. The best of the best.”
“Good.” Shawn breathes a sigh of relief, and I kiss his forehead. “I had no idea there was such a market for medical equipment.”
“You could stock your own hospital with the stuff you find online.” I rifle through the stack of gifts and pull a large box from the back. “Here.”
“This is big.” Shawn starts to unwrap it carefully, and I remember he’s someone who likes to take his time with presents. He doesn’t rip the wrapping paper like I do, not a care in the world. He’s meticulous and careful, and even folds it in neat little halves after he’s finished admiring his gift. “Wait. What is it?”
“It’s silly. You told me about your grandmother’s old stereo in her condo kitchen, so I hunted down something that might be close to what she might have had. I doubt it even works.”
He stares at the box and turns it over. He checks it from every angle, his mouth hitching open wider and wider with every turn. “Lacey. This is—” he closes his eyes. “This is the exact stereo she used to have. Down to the color.”
“Oh,” I whisper. “I hope I’m not devaluing something you loved as a kid. I just thought with the music and—”
“It’s perfect. It’s fucking perfect, and you are fucking perfect. Thank you, so much,” he says, and he pulls me into his lap. He buries his face in my hair, and his breath is warm on my skin. It tickles the back of my neck and slips down my shirt, heating me as it moves away. “I can’t wait to show my mom. She’s going to remember it, too.”
“I know it’s not as fancy as some of the nicer things out there, but maybe you can put it somewhere in your apartment.”
“Oh, it’s going front and center in the kitchen, sweetheart. I’m going to show it off.”
I smile and rub up his arm. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“I don’t just like it. I love it.” Shawn kisses my cheek, and I can feel him smiling. “Your turn. Grab the one on the end there.”
I reach for a rectangle box and turn it side to side. It’s lighter than the last gift, and I rest it in my lap. “I wonder what it could be.” I rip the paper down the middle and pull the top off the box. “Oh my god.”
I hold up the blue and white jersey and gape at it. It has the Titans logo on the front, but when I flip it over, it’s Shawn’s last name and number.
“You said you didn’t have a Titans jersey. Now you do,” he tells me. “And I’m absolutely not letting you wear anyone else’s name.”
“This is so nice.” I rub my thumb over the stitching, the 44 big and bold in the center. I trace the outline of the letters, and each one feels special under my finger. “When did you get it done?”
“Immediately after the game where we kissed. I had to explain to the guy three times that I know Shawn Holmes doesn’t play for the Titans. Couldn’t break it to him that I was the one ordering it.” Shawn laughs and folds the wrapping paper into squares. “Anyway. Now you have something to wear to the games that will actually fit you. And I’ll still get to see my name on your back, but this time, with the right team.”
“I like wearing the jerseys you played in, but this is so special. One of a kind, I bet. Will you sign it so it has the full effect?” I ask.
“Of course I will. Right across your chest. Maybe I’ll write Shawn was here on the left boob.”
“You will do no such thing,” I say, and I fold the jersey back into its box. “This is the best present ever.”
“I’ll get you a couple more so you can rotate them. You look good in blue, so I figured I’d buy you that one first.”
“Pretty soon, my whole closet is going to be full of things with your name on the back,” I joke, and heat flares behind his eyes. I grab a smaller present and hand it to him. “Here.”
“What is this? A wallet?” He peels back the tape on the rectangle shape, and I wait patiently for him to finish.
This is the gift I’m most nervous about. It took the most time, and it’s the only homemade item in the bunch. The idea came to me when I remembered what he said to me the first time he visited my apartment; his words stuck with me, and now I want to give them back to him.
“Be careful,” I say. “It’s kind of fragile.”
“I’m intrigued.” He wiggles open the small box and sucks in a sharp breath. “Are these—is this—”
“Photos of us,” I whisper. “And me.”
“Is this why you kept asking to take photos together this month?” Shawn asks, and he flips through the stack of photographs.
There are fifteen in all, and they’re all from different moments over the last month we’ve spent together. The one I snapped of us on Thanksgiving in his car after his game. In Maggie and Aiden’s kitchen. The one from his apartment, me in his lap and his eyes on me. A dozen more, each showing the same thing.
Two people who care a lot about each other.
Two people in love.
When I was putting them together, I could see myself falling for him in real time.
My smiles got bigger. My face got brighter. Every moment is the happiest moment of my life, and he is there in all of them.
“I wanted you to have something you could carry with you, if you wanted. I have one in my purse of us, too.”
He touches the edges of the photos, careful to not smudge the matching grins we’re wearing. “This is the greatest thing anyone could have ever given to me. I’m going to rotate them every month. Every time I open my wallet, you’ll be the first thing I’ll see. And that makes me so fucking happy.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it? I love it. God, you’re amazing, Lacey. Nothing could ever top this.”
He tips my chin and kisses me. I adjust my legs around his waist, straddling him so I can face him and run my hands up his chest. Across his neck and into his hair. He hums, and I feel the sound down to my toes.
I love him.
I love him, I love him, I love him.
I try to tell him with hot presses of my mouth. Rolling my hips and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. Biting his earlobe and smiling into his skin when he moans. When his hands rub up my thighs, I sigh, totally content.
Waves of emotion I’ve never experienced before hit me like a ton of bricks as I sit in his arms. Gratitude. Joy. Immense, overwhelming love.
Love for this man.
Love for the way he loves me.
Love for every maker of fate who led us together.
I want to tell him.
It sits on my tongue, so close to coming out, and I know one day soon, it will.
“I’m so grateful for you,” I whisper into his neck.
Shawn lifts me up and walks me toward the bedroom. The rest of the gifts sit forgotten as the lights twinkle on the tree. I don’t care about them—not when the man I adore is kissing me like his life depends on it. Setting me on my bed and pulling off my clothes like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen. Sinking into me, his hand over my heart and my name on his lips.
Mine, I think as he pushes me to the brink of ecstasy and sends me tumbling over the edge.
Mine forever, I think as he holds me in his arms until the sun comes up, neither one of us wanting to leave.
