Epilogue

EPILOGUE

MARLOW

C hristmas morning at my parents' house was always a cozy affair, but this year felt extra special with Spencer by my side. My parents had allowed us to sleep together in my room. They could be a bit old-fashioned. I woke up before Spencer. His slow, steady breathing had become so familiar to me. I couldn't imagine not waking up to the man.

We still had separate apartments, but we rarely slept apart. I didn't know if he was ready to have the conversation just yet, but I hoped we could talk about a future where we lived in the same place and shared a bed every night.

I rolled to my side and watched him sleep. His face was relaxed, the typical frown gone. His lips slightly parted and his dark lashes casting a soft shadow over his cheeks. I traced my fingers feather-light across his bare chest, the dark hair there soft against my fingertips. He stirred lightly at the touch, a sleepy smile gracing his lips before his eyes fluttered open to meet my gaze. His eyes were heavy with sleep yet filled with such warmth and adoration.

I never really understood when people talked about love in their eyes, but I could actually see the love in his eyes when he looked at me. He didn't have to say words. I could see it and feel it. It was like a warm hug.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. His arms wrapped around me securely and I sighed contentedly against him.

"Good morning, Spencer," I replied softly, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. I felt him chuckle beneath me, the vibrations of it warming my skin.

We stayed in our shared embrace for a while longer, enjoying the comfortable silence that stretched between us. I could hear movement downstairs and knew my mother was up. "Are you ready for this?" I asked him.

"Is this the kind of thing one needs to be ready for?" he teased.

"It's going to be a lot of, well, cheese."

"Cheese?" he questioned with confusion.

"Cheesiness." I laughed. "You've been here on Christmas before, but not Christmas morning. My mom has a lot of cheesy traditions. And it's all warm and fuzzy and, well, cheesy."

"I'm cool with cheese. I like cheese."

"Good, because I might have forgotten to mention we typically spend the first half of the day wearing matching pajamas."

"Excuse me?"

I laughed at the look of horror on his face. "Don't worry, it's not that bad, I promise," I said trying to reassure him.

"That was not on the list of prerequisites you gave me," he grumbled in protest. His hand traced along my side idly as he spoke.

I snuggled closer to him, wrapping my arm around his waist. "Spencer, it's a silly tradition. And it's only for half a day."

He sighed and adjusted his position so that he was now lying on his back. I could see him pondering over this new information.

"So let me get this straight," he began slowly. "If I'm understanding correctly, your mother is going to make us all wear matching pajamas and do what exactly?"

I laughed again at his question. "Well, there's a big breakfast with all the trimmings. Pancakes, bacon, eggs. Then we'll open presents, one at a time, with plenty of oohing and aahing over every single one. After that, well, there's usually some kind of hokey holiday movie marathon."

Spencer looked at me skeptically before he grinned. "Bring on the cheese. Will there be eggnog?"

"Uh, duh," I said with feigned disgust. "But not until after noon. My mom makes her own and she is not shy about the rum. We don't want to be sloshed before lunch."

"Our first Christmas together." He laughed softly.

Sure, it wasn't exactly romantic but it was homey. It was real. It was family. And it felt more right than anything else I could possibly imagine.

"You said you like cheese," I teased.

He chuckled, pulling me closer and kissing the top of my head. "I did say that, didn't I?" he mused. "Well then, bring on the waffles and matching pajamas."

I rolled out of bed and went to my suitcase with the pajamas my mom had sent to my apartment. I didn't tell Spencer about them, worried he might not be all that thrilled to be sporting the pajamas. I handed him his set. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the package. "You bought me pajamas?"

"No, my mom did. She sent them to me."

"Alright then," he sighed. "This is probably the strangest gift I've received."

"Put them on," I teased, tearing the package open on my set.

The pajamas had reindeer all over them. They were a soft flannel, perfect for lounging around on Christmas day. The tops were long-sleeved button-up shirts, while the bottoms were full-length pants. On the front pocket of the shirt, there was a small, embroidered snowman wearing a Santa hat. The set included a matching pair of fuzzy red and white socks.

Spencer climbed out of bed in his briefs. "I just remembered something," he said.

"What?"

"I remember seeing a picture of all of you wearing matching pajamas," he said as he opened his package.

"Yep, every year."

"Oh joy, so this humiliation will include a photo for me to remember forever."

I knew he was joking. He loved this.

"We wouldn't want you to forget your first Christmas morning with us, now would we?" I grinned, watching him as he slipped on the pajama top.

He snorted, buttoning up the shirt with quick fingers. "I'm not sure if I should be thanking you or cursing you for this."

"Gratitude is always appreciated," I teased, stepping into the pants.

"I'll keep that in mind." He chuckled, pulling on the pants and adjusting them around his waist. I could tell he was amused despite his efforts to act horrified.

We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other in our matching ensembles. Suddenly Spencer burst into laughter, a robust, full-bellied laugh that was all too rare but always precious when it happened. I joined in, the humor of the situation catching up with me.

"God, we look ridiculous," he said between fits of laughter.

"Yes, we do," I agreed gleefully. "But it's tradition. And you have to admit these are so soft and cozy."

I opened the bedroom door and looked up and down the hall. It was quiet. Maybe my mom wasn't up. We quietly walked downstairs, the lights on the tree glowing in the living room. We both paused to take in the scene. Stockings were hung from the mantel. As usual, Mom had stayed up the night before stuffing stockings like she did when we were kids.

"It's amazing," Spencer whispered, his voice reverent.

We walked into the kitchen to make coffee. The smell of the lemon cranberry loaf that my mom had baked the night before filled the air. I couldn't resist sneaking a slice before anyone else woke up. I gave Spencer a bite before I set about starting the morning coffee. One by one, my family joined us in the kitchen. We all gathered around the dining table, enjoying the loaf and sipping coffee as we opened our stocking stuffers. Each stocking was filled with funny gifts—a rubber chicken for Rhett, a ridiculous Christmas-themed tie for Dad, and a pair of socks with little Santa faces for Mom. Spencer's stocking had a mug that read "Best Boyfriend Ever," which made him laugh.

After our leisurely start, we moved on to a bigger breakfast. Mom made her famous egg casserole, a tradition she never missed, and got the turkey ready for the oven. She loved cooking for us, and it showed in every dish she prepared. Even though I offered to help, she shooed me out of the kitchen and insisted I go sit with the guys in the living room. She said Shoop would keep her company.

Mom joined us in the living room. It was time for the grand event. Even though I was thirty years old, Christmas morning never got old. Snow was gently falling outside, the perfect backdrop for our cozy celebration. Christmas hymns played softly in the background as we began opening gifts.

I received a new pair of slippers, my favorite skincare products from Rhett, who bought them for me every year, and a framed picture from my dad that brought tears to my eyes. It was a photo of us from behind when I was about eight years old, pointing up at the sky on a snowy night.

"You were pointing at a star," Dad said, his voice soft with nostalgia. "Telling me it was Santa Claus."

I smiled through my tears. "I remember," I whispered, hugging him tightly.

Spencer jokingly put on the new tie he got from Rhett and lightly sprayed the cologne I bought him on his neck. He knew it drove me wild. He was teasing me, which wasn't cool, but I would get him later.

The guys set up my dad's new putting green in the hallway, laughing and joking with each other. I helped my mom clean up the gift wrapping, with Mom meticulously folding all the tissue paper to use again next year and collecting the ribbons and bows. She scolded Rhett when he tried to toss some of it out, making us all laugh.

Spencer stood in the living room and looked around like he lost something. "I think there might be one more present we missed," he said, his tone casual.

Everyone glanced around, looking a little confused. The space under the tree was bare. "What's that one?" he asked, pointing to one of the higher branches.

Rhett reached up and plucked a small, ornately wrapped box from the branch. He turned the tag over. "Marlow."

I frowned, confused. "Who's it from?"

"Must be Santa," Dad joked, making everyone chuckle.

I took the box from Rhett. It was beautifully wrapped, with a delicate ribbon that I carefully untied. As the ribbon drifted to the floor, I peeled back the paper to reveal a dark green velvet ring box. My heart skipped a beat.

It's probably just a pair of earrings , I thought, trying to steady my nerves. But as I turned around to show everyone, I saw Spencer down on one knee.

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

"Marlow," Spencer began, his voice filled with emotion. "You've made me a better man. You've taught me what it means to be good, kind, and true. You've made me feel like I belong, like I can do anything. And there's only one thing I want to do now that you're in my life."

Tears welled up in my eyes as he continued. "I want to make you happy. Protect you. Love you every day. Choose you every day. Start a family with you."

He took the ring box from my hands and flipped it open, revealing a stunning engagement ring. "Marlow, will you marry me?"

I could barely breathe, the moment feeling so surreal. "Yes," I whispered, then louder, "Yes!"

He slid the ring onto my finger, the weight of it telling me this was real. I wasn't dreaming. I felt an overwhelming surge of joy and love. My mother was weeping, my father was sniffling with a grin plastered across his face, and Rhett, even with all of his past screw-ups, had done something right—he was recording the whole thing on his phone.

Spencer stood up, pulling me into his arms and kissed me. "I love you," he murmured against my lips.

"I love you too," I replied, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

***