“Of course.”
On the couch beside him, I pull the blanket over my bare legs and watch with a smile as Rory opens his stocking, setting the items one by one on the coffee table with care. Deodorant, gum, Lindt chocolates, wool socks, an orange, and lip balm.
He chuckles at the plastic key chain I bought the other week—a tiny dragon with a pissed off expression and flames coming out of its mouth.
Amusement sparks in his eyes. “Is this you?”
The apples of my cheeks ache, I’m smiling so much this morning. “I bought it so you could bring it on the road, but that was before I saw you already have a dragon of your own.”
He studies the cheap piece of plastic, turning it over with a smile. “I love it.”
He reaches back into the stocking and pulls out a can of room-temperature beer, grinning at it in surprise.
“I like this kind,” he says.
“I know.” I kiss him on the cheek. My mom always puts beer in my dad’s stocking. I understand the appeal.
“Thank you, Hartley.” He sighs, looking at all the stuff lined up on the table before he shakes his head. “I didn’t expect this.”
My throat closes up with emotion. Even if this all falls through, even if Rory loses interest in me and moves on to someone else, I’ll remember moments like these.
I don’t regret any of this. Rory deserves to be shown that he’s loved.
He kisses me again and I smile. “Thank you,” he says.
“You’re welcome.” I wrench around, pointing at the larger present, a wide, flat rectangle wrapped in blue paper with dancing reindeer. “That one next.”
Rory heads to the tree, still wearing a funny, curious smile as he carries it over. He tears the wrapping off, revealing a framed navy and gray jersey—an older Storm jersey. His brows knit as he pushes the paper away, and he stares, taking in the autograph on the number.
My heart beats hard, praying he likes it.
“You framed Ward’s jersey for me?”
I can’t tell how he feels about it. “You don’t have to hang it up or anything. No one has to know that you have it. I just—” I break off, scrambling to remember why I chose this as one of his gifts. “You said he was your idol. You said making him proud this year matters. I wanted to get you something that reminded you of what matters.”
His earnest, searching expression cracks into a brilliant smile, and he beams at me before looking back at the framed jersey. “I fucking love it, Hartley.”
My whole heart lifts. Admiration fills his eyes as he studies the autograph.
“Did he sign this for you?”
I nod, smiling. “He was happy to.”
Rory makes a pleased noise in his throat before he sets it down and gives me a kiss.
“Thank you,” he says against my lips.
“You’re welcome.” I can feel the goofy, happy look all over my face as the warm, buzzy feelings flow through me.
He sits up. “My turn.”
“No.” My eyebrows shoot up, and my stomach flutters as nerves flood my system.
He gives me a curious look.
“Um.” My fingers twiddle together, fingertips rubbing fast circles. My eyes dart over to the tree and I point at another gift. “I have one more for you.”
“You’re spoiling me,” he says, shaking his head as he retrieves the gift I pointed to. Back on the couch, he tears the wrapping off.
It’s the photo us in the high school library, except instead of being cropped like it is on his phone background, it’s the full picture. Us sitting side by side at one of the library tables, books and papers scattered in front of us, me wearing a guarded, reluctant smile and Rory grinning ear to ear with his arm thrown around me.
Rory hums, studying the photo with a look I can’t read.
“You can put it on your shelf.” I shift under the blanket. Maybe it’s a weird gift. I should have run it past Pippa to see if he’d like this kind of thing.
He tilts the photo to me. “I liked you then.”
Flutters scatter throughout my chest. “I liked you then, too, I think.”
We smile at each other.
“I love it, Hartley. Thank you.”
He stands, walks over to the bookshelf, and positions the picture at eye-level. When he glances over at me, his mouth tilts and he winks.
“Perfect,” he says.
I could melt right into the couch, I’m so relieved and happy.
A moment later, he drops a small gift into my lap and flops down on the couch beside me, watching me with bright eyes. “Your turn.”