Her hand rests on my cheek. “Me too, baby. But he’s here. I feel him all around us this year.”
“Tomorrow is going to be so special,” his mother says while pressing her hands together. “So special. I just know that it’ll all be magical.”
Dean gives her a strange look. “Yes, because it’s Christmas.”
“That’s what I mean. Christmas for you two especially is extra magical.”
There’s a niggling sense that I’m missing something. My mother grabs my hand, pulling me toward her. “How did he propose?”
“He just kind of said it. I know it doesn’t sound amazing or romantic, but it was. We were just lying there, smiling, and he asked me to marry him.”
“I think that’s perfect for you, Holly. You’ve never needed anything big.”
I haven’t. I like low-key when it comes to things like this. Honestly, I would be completely happy with just these people and maybe my best friend, Chelle, at our wedding. As happy as I am about all of this, there is a brief second of sadness when I realize my dad won’t be here to walk me down the aisle. There won’t be a father-daughter dance. It’ll just be me.
I push the thought from my head, this is a special day. I’m engaged to the most wonderful man in the world.
Dean comes behind me, wrapping his arms around my middle. “Are you happy?”
“Blissfully.”
“How is this year’s Christmas in comparison? Are you starting to agree that this is the most wonderful time of the year yet?”
I smile, tilting my head back to look at him. “Most definitely.”
“Good, and we still have tomorrow.”
He leans down, giving me a sweet kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Our mothers are clucking like hens about what to cook, what to wear, and something else I don’t catch.
“They’re fast friends,” Dean notes while holding me tight.
“Thank God. They’re all we have.”
He laughs and then groans. “As much as I don’t want to, I need to check my email and figure out what’s going on with my client. If I have to leave, there will be very little time to prepare.”
His mother bristles. “Now? It’s Christmas Eve and we have a big dinner planned. Not to mention, you wanted to take us downtown.”
“I wish I didn’t have to, Mom, but . . . I can’t neglect this.”
She sighs with a hint of frustration. “Are you sure you want to marry my son, Holly? A workaholic who can’t put the computer down—not even for the holidays.”
I laugh and look at him. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
She humphs and mutters under her breath as she walks into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I understand. If this were my big client, I would need to do the same thing.”
While it’s Christmas and I wish he weren’t stuck working, I get it. I hoped this year we’d be doing things together, but I have tomorrow with him, and with my mother here, it’s not so bad.
He kisses my temple. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll make it all up to you tomorrow.”
I grin. “Well, we could always be very quiet tonight.”
Dean winks. “I look forward to testing that.”
He heads back into the bedroom, and I go help in the kitchen—and by help, I mean I stand around aimlessly while they fuss over it all. We’re having ham, mashed potato pie (which is basically twice baked potatoes but much more complicated), green beans, and my mother’s famous Pierniki, which is a polish gingerbread.
Mom calls me over. “Here, you knead the dough, but not too much.”
I’ve done this every year since I was three. My great-grandma taught my grandma and then she taught my mother and she taught me.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Mrs. Pritchard asks. “This is what the holidays are about, it’s family and love.”
My mother nods. “I was so worried that Holly would end up alone after that last guy she was with.”
“Could we not?” I ask. “I got engaged today, and I’d like to only think of Dean.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Dean is a good man. You’re lucky he caught you.”
I smile, thinking back on that elevator debacle. “I was lucky.”
Mrs. Pritchard waves her hand. “It was fate.”
“I think it was a Christmas miracle,” I say as I remember looking up at the mistletoe that was hanging above us.
This year, I made sure I hung it in our bedroom, which he was more than happy to take advantage of.
After a few more minutes, Dean enters, and the look on his face says it all. “You lost it?”
“No, but I have to leave for Tokyo.”
“When?”
He closes his eyes. “I don’t know, but I should be getting on a plane right now.”
“Dean, it’s Christmas,” his mother says.
When he looks back at me, I can see the regret. “I know. Believe me and . . . God!” he yells in frustration. “I had it all planned.”
His mother walks over, and places a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing is ever broken that can’t be fixed. We’ll . . . well, we’ll do it today.”
“Do what?” I ask.
Dean comes in front of me, his hands taking mine. “I had a plan. When I asked you to marry me, that was only part of it.”
I blink a few times, not really sure what the heck else there is to it. “Okay . . .”
“See, I made a promise to you in that elevator. I promised that Christmas would be your favorite time again. I wanted to make you love it again.”
“You have,” I assure him.
“I want every memory from this year on to be filled with joy, Holly. I want you to think of us—of all we’ve shared and all that’s still to come.”
“Dean, you’re not ruining Christmas by going away. It’s a day. A single day in the expanse of our lives together. I love you, and I know that you’re not leaving because you want to.”
He shakes his head. “If I have to get on a plane tomorrow, then we’re going to make this happen today.” There’s so much determination
