Monday, December 25th #3
“Hey, I’m thirty-seven,” Frank says, puffing his chest out. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
“You were sixteen with Stevie,” Ronan mutters behind a fake cough.
The room erupts with laughter.
The excitement lingers for a while, everyone peppering Frank and Penny with questions about the due date—no idea, they don’t see her doctor until after the new year—and whether they want to find out the gender—absolutely.
My mom approaches me in the kitchen a little while later, concerned that Penny and Frank’s news may have added to my sadness today.
I assure her that I’m alright, and actually really happy for them.
She hugs me for a long time, talking to me sweetly, telling me that Ronan’s and my time will come when it’s right, that things will work out for us just like they always do.
Eventually we all manage to gather in the living room.
My siblings are playing with Dean and Kellan, who I swear are moments away from taking their first steps.
They keep pulling themselves up on anything they can reach, balancing with wide-eyed determination before plopping backwards onto their diapered butts.
“Can we open presents now?” Benny yells, eyeing the bag of neatly wrapped gifts I stashed beside the sofa.
We give in and let the kids go first, which turns the room into a tornado of paper and squeals. Afterward, the adults exchange gifts.
Ronan had already surprised me a couple of weeks ago with a weekend trip to a fancy resort.
“Early Christmas present,” he told me at the time. “Because we desperately need to get away.”
He wasn’t wrong. Four days of sex, incredible food, spa treatments, and zero interruptions? I’d never felt more relaxed or connected to him.
Which should make today’s surprise even more satisfying.
“Okay, you have to follow me,” I tell him once everyone’s opened their presents, barely containing my excitement.
“Where?” Ronan asks, confusion etched into his gorgeous features.
“Stop questioning and just follow her,” Frank says with a grin on his face.
Ronan does as instructed, following me into the kitchen. I stop in front of the garage door, my heart pounding so hard I swear he can hear it. This has taken me months to make happen, and I can’t wait for him to see it.
“Alright,” I say, beaming at him.
“Alright what?”
“Open the door!” I huff, stepping back to let him reach for the handle.
He pushes it open and then just stands there.
His Mustang—sleek, satin black and gleaming under the garage light—sits pristine and perfect, like no time has passed at all.
He doesn’t speak. Just stares. Then he turns to me, his face full of emotion.
“Cat… is this… how did you…” he breathes, unable to finish his thought.
Wordlessly, he walks down the three steps and over to the car.
He runs his hand along the smooth curves, over the roof and to the hood like he’s afraid it might vanish.
I follow, fishing the key out of my pocket.
“Merry Christmas, sweet boy,” I whisper.
He takes the key from me, unlocks the door, and slips into the driver’s seat. His hands settle on the steering wheel, feeling the supple leather under his fingers. He looks around the interior like he’s stepped into a dream.
“I don’t know what to say,” Ronan murmurs, getting out of the car. He swallows hard, his eyes watery. He doesn’t say anything more. He just pulls me into his arms and kisses me so deeply my knees almost give out.
“How did you even make this happen?” he asks breathlessly when he finally pulls away, glancing back at the car in awe.
“I may have snooped in your phone a little. Found the guy you sold it to.”
“You went through my phone?”
“Relax. No porn. No sketchy texts from girls named Ashley or Brittney or Chelsey or something else that ends in ey,” I grin.
“Yeah, well, I use a burner phone for that,” he deadpans.
“I figured as much,” I say, mimicking his dry tone. “Anyway, I called the guy and he definitely wasn’t interested in selling it.”
“So, how did you get it? Wait, baby, are the cops going to show up to arrest your ass because you committed grand theft auto?”
I look at my watch. “Any second now.”
“Alright, get in the car. I’ll drive,” Ronan says with a sigh.
I giggle at him. “I just kept calling. And eventually, a few weeks ago, I told him the whole story. About you. Why you sold it. What it meant. And, well… I can be very persuasive.”
“Oh, I know how persuasive you can be,” he says, flashing that mischievous half-smile I love.
“I’m serious. Yesterday, when you thought I was at my parents’ all day? Stevie and I actually drove up to New Hampshire to get it and bring it back. Tada!” I throw my arms out.
“You are fucking amazing, baby.” Ronan scoops me into his arms. “But how in the world did you pay for this?”
“I sold my own car. It wasn’t quite enough to buy your Mustang back—”
“You don’t say.” He grins.
I pretend I didn’t hear that. “—so your dad, Stevie, Shane, and my parents all chipped in,” I say with a huge smile. “I told them that I was sure you’d let me have your RAV4.”
“Done.” Ronan fishes the keys from his pocket and hands them to me. “It’s yours. I’ll sign the title when we get home.”
“Are you happy?” I ask, curling my fingers around his.
“Are you kidding me? Fuck yes, I’m happy. Baby, this is insane. I don’t deserve y—”
“Nope!” I press my hand over his mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence. You do deserve me. And I deserve you. Got it?”
He smiles against my palm.
“Nod if you understand, Mr. Soult.”
He nods.
I drop my hand and he immediately kisses me again—deep, consuming, perfect.
We stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. When he finally tucks the Mustang’s key into his pocket, he reaches for my hand again.
“Let’s go,” he says softly, lacing our fingers together.
We head back inside to join our families, where everyone is eagerly waiting to hear Ronan’s reaction to the most epic Christmas present he’s ever gotten.
Ronan
Cat has absolutely outdone herself.
I can’t believe my eyes when I open the garage door and find my Mustang—my Mustang—parked there like it never left.
Pristine. Perfect. I take one look at it and immediately know: she pulled off something major.
And when I find out she sold her car, and then hustled not only my dad, my brother, and Shane, but got her parents to pitch in, too?
I mean, I know I’m not supposed to say it out loud, but nobody can stop me from thinking—until the end of my days—that Cat is way too damn good for me.
Naturally, I handed her the keys to the RAV4 the second she told me.
Cat tells me about her little mission yesterday, how she enlisted my big brother’s help. She and Steve drove all the way to New Hampshire, picked up the car, and drove it back home to park it in my dad’s garage.
“The guy you sold it to hadn’t even driven it,” Steve chimes in. “He was a collector, Ran. Just kept it in a giant garage like some museum piece.”
I couldn’t have wished for better news. My Mustang is in almost exactly the same condition I sold it in—no changes, no damage, just a little over 600 miles more on my odometer, clean, cared for, and waiting for me. Waiting for her to bring it home.
Cat and I spend much of the day hanging out in the living room, chatting with Steve, entertaining my brothers and Cat’s siblings.
But my attention keeps drifting. My eyes keep finding Cat.
I don’t know how to describe what’s happening inside me other than this: I’m completely overwhelmed by her. Always have been.
When she disappears into the kitchen to help her mom and take over for Penny, who had to bolt to the bathroom yet again, I go to help set the table for dinner. Something’s stirring inside me. I need something to do or I might combust from whatever is rattling around in my chest.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re all gathered around the table, passing plates of food. Again, my thoughts drift. When Penny suggests my dad say something before we dig into the food, I stop him just as he’s about to open his mouth to talk.
“Dad, actually, do you mind if I say something?”
“Sure, Ran, go ahead,” he says, as everyone looks at me with quizzical expressions.
My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to make a run for it. My hands are sweaty. And yeah, I’ve been through some terrifying shit in my life, but somehow this is the scariest thing I’ve ever done.
I look at Cat, and everything else falls away.
“It’s been a hell of a couple of years,” I say. “Actually, it’s been a hell of a life so far, but we’re not gonna talk about that today. Because all those years before you? They don’t really matter anymore.” I pause, laugh awkwardly. “Shit. I suck at this. Sorry.”
Everyone chuckles. It gives me just enough air to keep going.
“I know today’s hard for you,” I say. Cat nods, already tearing up.
“I wish I could make it better. I wish I could take away everything that’s ever hurt you.
I wish I could undo all the shit I put you through.
But then again… maybe I wouldn’t. Not really.
Because even when things were bad—and fuck, some days felt like the whole damn world was caving in—you were always the part of it that felt like home.
You’re still the best, most unwavering, most real part of me. ”
I swallow hard. “You make it easier. Always have. From the moment I met you, I knew it was you or no one. You have this way of easing the weight I carry. You make unbearable shit feel bearable. And when things got really bad at home—like, the kind of bad you don’t talk about in polite company—you were the reason I didn’t give up.
I don’t mean to put that on you, but you need to know that you were the reason I fought.
You were the reason I lived. You kept me breathing when I didn’t think I could anymore. ”
Cat watches me, unspeaking, eyes wide and shimmering.