I nod, my smile trembling, my eyes filling with tears. “I mean it.”
His mouth lands on mine, stealing any other words I might’ve said. Stealing my breath. Stealing my heart.
There’s nothing else for me to say anyway.
Chapter Eighteen
Maisey
Six months later
Have you heard from him yet?
Chewing on my lower lip, I study the text from my sister, wishing I could give her a different answer.
Nope.
She immediately texts back.
You think he’s all right? It’s snowing really hard right now.
Ugh. I could punch my sister for trying to make me worry more than I already am.
Thanks for being so positive!
My reply is full of sarcasm. Hopefully she realizes that.
I’m sorry! I’m worried about him, she replies.
So am I. I’ll let you know when he gets home, I type, then toss my phone aside.
Home. The man of my dreams is on his way home, to our new house we share in Cunningham Falls, driving in an almost-blizzard to get here for Christmas.
I can’t wait to see him, and after I hug him, I might sock him in the stomach for making me worry so bad.
I told him he could take his time. It’s only the twenty-third. We still have another twenty-four hours before Christmas is here, but he said no way. He had to get here tonight.
And so I wait. It’s soon past ten o’clock, the roads are probably a nightmare, the snow is starting to fall even harder, and I want to cry.
But then light flashes in the window facing the street and I hear a car engine pulling into our driveway. Relief floods me, making me weak, and I rise from the couch, practically running to the door in the kitchen that leads out to the garage.
The door swings open minutes later and I rush forward, tackle hugging him as tight as I can.
“Well, hello to you too,” he says, amusement lacing his voice as he wraps me up in his thick arms.
“I was worried sick.” My voice is muffled against his chest, and I burrow my face closer. He smells so good. I’ve missed him. I always miss him. Having him come home after being away is the best thing ever.
His leaving is also the worst thing ever.
But we’re making it work. Because we love each other.
“I know. Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have driven home tonight, but I had to. I wanted to see you.” He grabs hold of my arms and steps away so he can take me in. He whistles low, shaking his head. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
“I missed you,” I admit just before he sweeps me back into his arms and thoroughly kisses me.
God, I love his thorough kisses.
“Come on, let’s go sit by the tree.” He hooks his arm around my shoulders and guides me back into the living room, falling onto the couch and dragging me with him. I rest my head on his chest as we both stare at the decorated Christmas tree sitting in front of the window, the multi-colored lights twinkling.