The Christmas Orphans Club(87)
“I went to your parents’ house. I needed to see you, in person, to apologize. David, I’m so sorry, I’ve been such an idiot. Not just this morning, for months. And you deserve so much better than me, but I love you and I want to love you better, if you’ll let me. I should have been there today. If spending Christmas with your family is important to you, then it’s important to me, too. I should have realized it sooner, but I promise I’ll be there next year.”
“Hannah,” he starts. Then heaves a big sigh. “I don’t want to be second-best. I don’t want spending Christmas with me to be some consolation prize after Finn leaves and you don’t have a better offer.” He doesn’t sound mad, he sounds sad.
“That’s not . . . ,” I begin, before realizing that’s exactly how it sounds.
All at once the fear that our fight has already gone too far hits me square in the chest. I wonder where the uncrossable line in our relationship is, the one that marks a step too far for his forgiveness. Worse, I wonder if I accidentally wandered past it these last few months without even knowing, blind in the haze of my own stubbornness.
With that realization I forget how to breathe. My breath comes out in quick, jagged pants. David gathers me into his chest. He smooths my hair and makes quiet shushing noises. “Breathe,” he tells me. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I’m not okay, I’m an idiot,” I whine miserably.
He laughs next to my ear.
A laugh is good. People don’t usually laugh during breakups.
I pull away from him and we stand staring at each other in the front hallway. It feels crucial for me to make him understand how serious I am. About him, about us.
“You’re not a consolation prize. Not at all. I realized today that I think I was holding on to Christmas because of Brooke—”
“Brooke? You haven’t spent Christmas with her in years.”
“Exactly. I always thought Brooke abandoned our family. That she bailed as soon as something better came along and put me and our parents in the past. At least, I thought she did. Some new information has come to light there, but I can only handle one apology at a time. The point is, I guess it made me want to not abandon Finn and Theo and Priya and our traditions. I know you don’t get it, but they’re family to me, too.”
He reaches for my hand and weaves our fingers together. He looks down at them as he speaks. “I know they are, and I’m not asking you to give them up. I know how important they are to you. And I love how passionate and loyal you are when it comes to your friends.” He looks at me, his expression open and vulnerable. “I’m just asking you to put me first. Not all the time, but sometimes. It’s not really about Christmas. I don’t care where we spend Christmas. We can spend it in a dive bar or in the desert or on the moon. As long as we’re together.” He squeezes my hand for emphasis, then adds, “Unless we have kids. Then we kind of have to spend Christmas with my family or my mom would flip.”
“We can do that,” I tell him. “I want to spend Christmas with you. I’m not just saying that.” Now I understand why grand gestures exist. I want to make him understand that this is not lip service. This isn’t an empty promise I plan to forget about in the next 364 days. This is real. I wish I had a skywriter or a fireworks display in the shape of a heart or a picnic of all of his favorite foods to prove to him the depth of my love.
My eyes lock onto a bag of sourdough bread in a ceramic bowl on the kitchen island.
I walk toward it pulling David with me and remove the twist tie that seals the bag.
“What are you doing?” David asks, confused by the break in our conversation and my seemingly sudden, overpowering need for toast.
I turn back to him and drop to one knee. I haven’t thought this through at all, but it feels right. My bright red gown pools on the floor around me. I look up at him and try to telegraph all the love I feel for him right now. “David?” I ask.
“Yes . . .” His lips curve into a surprised smile.
“I want you to know that I’m in this. I want Saturdays at the greenmarket and Sunday mornings doing the crossword together. I want to get you your favorite ramen before a big work presentation, and I want to know what’s next after you finally master your at-home pizza recipe. And I want to finally go on that trip to Italy. But most of all, I want you. I want you to be my family, too. Will you marry me?”
“Yes, I already told you yes.” There are tears in his eyes as I wrap the twist tie around his ring finger. He pulls me up to standing and gathers me in his arms. Then he lowers his lips to mine. It’s a kiss that holds promise for a lifetime of future kisses—a kiss that’s leading somewhere.
He pulls back for a second to say, “I love you so fucking much, Hannah,” before he backs me against the kitchen island. I pull his lower lip into my mouth and give it a playful bite. His hands fall to my ass and lift me onto the counter. I wrap my legs around his waist as his tongue brushes past my lips.
“I have no idea how to get you out of this dress,” he says against my mouth.
“It’s going to be a nightmare, there are so many tiny buttons.”
He runs his hand up my back and starts to fiddle with the top one. “Can I rip it?” he asks.
“It’s not mine. I need to return it. Whole, ideally.”