Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

CHRISTMAS DAY

Holly

I wake early, before the sun, in a tangle of sheets in the arms of the man I love. A smile plays on my lips as I extricate myself, creep across the room, and ease the door open silently.

It must have snowed all night. The windows are frosted with lacy patterns and the room is cold. I light a fire and start the coffee. When Jack pads out of the bedroom, he crosses the room to plant a minty toothpaste kiss on my cheek.

“Merry Christmas.”

“The merriest,” I say, handing him a mug of gingerbread latte “coffee” with candy cane foam.

He takes a sip and his eyes pop. “Tell me the coffee shop isn’t open today.”

“It’s not. Delphina taught me how to make it.”

He smiles into his cup. “This is a nice surprise.”

“It’s not the only one.” I can’t wait any longer, so I pull open the drawer built into the island, where I hid his gift days ago. I hand him the small package.

He unwraps the silver patterned tissue paper so carefully, so slowly, that I have to stop myself from ripping it out of his hands and doing it myself. He swallows hard when he holds up the glass ornament. Inside, a miniature bookcase holds a tiny set of Jackie Samuel’s Resistance series novels.

“So you can celebrate your mom’s legacy every Christmas.”

“Holly, I—,” his voice breaks and he trails off.

“Wait, you have another one.” I pull him over to the couch and push it aside to reveal a large box. He sets the ornament aside and gets to work on the box. When he sees that his gift is his very own little free library, he roars with laughter.

“I wanna keep you out of jail,” I explain as I hand over his third and final gift.

“Well, this is a book,” he says, turning the wrapped hardcover in his hand.

“D’uh. I thought you could put it in your library.”

He tears off the paper to reveal a copy of Pride and Prejudice. I watch him flip it over and read the inscription.

To Jack,

You’re definitely more of a Darcy, with the gooey center of a Bingley.

Yours,

Holly

He smiles up at me. “They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

Then he disappears into the bedroom. Curious, I follow him.

He lowers himself to the floor and reaches under the bed to pull out a large package wrapped in simple brown paper. He rests it on the bed, and gestures for me to unwrap it.

“But how?—?”

“Elves. Santa’s helpers. Fine, your sisters.”

I giggle and tear one corner of the paper. As I work the paper off, I reveal a corner of the painting and instantly recognize Pedro’s distinctive style. But after I remove all the paper, I’m speechless. This isn’t just any painting. It’s What Remains Beautiful. The lines, the colors, the broken being mended—it all hits me just as hard this time as it did the first time I saw it.

“Thank you.”

“Judge MacIntosh told me it resonated with you.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“It did. Does,” I correct in a soft voice before pressing my face into his shoulder, overcome by it all.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me, surrounded by paper and ribbons and all our beautiful, broken pieces.