Epilogue
Nick
Next Christmas
For the past five years, when I’ve woken up on Christmas, it’s felt like any other day. But today, I feel like, well, like a little kid waking up on Christmas.
Today is going to be the happiest day of my life, and this time, there is nothing that’s going to stand in the way.
The past year with Jess has been undoubtedly the best year of my life. Two months ago, we released our cowritten second-chance holiday romance to rave reviews. SVP sent us on a press tour together that took us around the country and landed us on the New York Times Best Sellers list. Some of my readers were disappointed by the happy ending I wrote, but most of them have been excited to come along with me for the ride.
It’s safe to say the romance community as a whole has fully embraced our real-life love story. We did the morning talk-show circuit and made more than one host cry with our true tale of a second chance at love. Both the critics and the readers have eaten the book up, and SVP is clamoring for us to do more. Even though we have loose plans to write a second book together, we’re also working on our own individual projects, and I love that we get to do both.
But today isn’t about our readers or the SVP publicity department or any other love story but ours.
I bring Jess a peppermint mocha in bed, still not used to the thrill of seeing her curled up under my sheets. She moved in over the summer and getting to see her whenever I want has been fantastic, for my libido anyway, though not for the word count on the new manuscript I’m supposed to be working on.
What can I say? I just can’t get enough.
And neither can she.
She pulls me down on top of her the moment I set down our mugs of coffee, and it doesn’t take long before I’m buried inside of her and she’s calling out my name.
Luckily, I built some time into our schedule for the day for unexpected trysts.
“I hate to say this,” I say as I dot kisses up the side of her neck, “but we really do need to get moving.”
She groans, shoving me off of her. “This better be good, Nick Matthews.”
“You know I will deliver nothing less than the best Christmas ever.”
She hits me with a pillow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Go get ready, and make sure you’re dressed in your holiday best.”
She climbs out of bed, still naked, and saunters into the bathroom, knowing exactly what she’s doing.
I spend the time she’s in the shower getting dressed, tucking the little black box into the inside pocket of my jacket. I kept the original ring from all those years ago, but something about giving it to her just didn’t feel right. So I bought a new one, for the fresh start she so graciously gave me.
I hope she loves it.
Alyssa and Kennedy assure me she will. So do her parents, who welcomed me back into their lives just as graciously as their daughter did. They’ll be meeting us later for dinner, though Jess thinks they are on another one of their cruises. I can’t wait to see her face when she sees them.
We spend the day doing all of her favorite things, watching the ice-skaters at Rockefeller Center and drinking hot chocolate from the Bryant Park winter market. We stop for a casual lunch at one of our favorite diners and grab her third peppermint mocha from a small café before getting on the subway to head to our next stop.
The Strand isn’t usually open on Christmas, but I called in a few favors, and when I open the door to the empty shop and see the look of awe on Jess’s face, well, it was worth it. We held the final stop on our book tour here, one of the many items on Jess’s author bucket list she’s been able to check off this year, along with finally quitting her coffee shop job. As of two weeks ago, she’s now officially a full-time writer.
I lead her to the rare book room, where Hilary has orchestrated all the details. Lights are strung from the ceiling, and a huge Christmas tree sits in the center of the space, with one wrapped gift waiting underneath.
Jess looks at me with wide eyes. “What’s all this?”
“It’s your Christmas present, obviously.” I poke her in the ribs because if I don’t ease some of the tension roiling in my gut, I might throw up before I can pop the question. “Open it.”
Jess walks slowly over to the tree, like she’s expecting something to jump out and scare her. She unwraps the small rectangular package carefully when all I want her to do is rip into the paper. Removing the lid from the box, she peeks cautiously inside. Her brow furrows and she turns to me in confusion. “What is this?”
“It’s the dedication page of my next book.”
“But it says…” Those gorgeous brown eyes widen even more as I sink to my knee.
“It says, ‘This book is dedicated to the love of my life, my partner, my everything. My wife.’?” I pull the ring box from my jacket and open it.
Her mouth drops open and the piece of paper with the dedication falls from her fingers and flutters to the ground. “Are you serious right now?”
“Of course I’m serious. Jess, you have always been the only woman for me. I wasted a lot of time, and I don’t want to waste a second more. Will you marry me?”
“Hell yes, I’ll marry you! Are you freaking kidding me?!?” She throws herself into my arms, and since I’m still down on one knee, the movement topples both of us over to the side.
I cushion her head before it can hit the wood floor. Before I can say anything, her mouth is pressed to mine and I gladly lean into the kiss.
Eventually I have to pull away because I don’t think my rental contract covers us having sex on the floor of the rare books room. Unfortunately.
I hop up, pulling Jess up with me. She pats down my hair and I straighten her sweater. “I think we forgot an important step here.” I hold up the ring.
She slips her hand into mine, and I slide the ring on her finger. “A perfect fit.”
I brush my lips over her knuckles. “A perfect fit.”
“I love you, Nick Matthews.”
“I love you, Jessica Carrington.” I tuck her hand into the crook of my elbow. “Now come on, we’re not done with the holiday magic just yet.”
She snort-laughs as she leans her head on my shoulder. “I think it’s time to admit I’ve fully converted you. You love Christmas just as much as I do.”
I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Not going to lie. It’s growing on me.”