Chapter 22 Frankie
Frankie
Four years later
By the time I clock out on Christmas Eve, I’ve lived a lifetime in twelve hours.
Three births back-to-back, one false alarm that turned into me eating graham crackers with a nervous dad-to-be in triage, and about a gallon of hospital coffee sloshing in my veins.
I love my job. I do. But sometimes the only thing that gets me through the long shifts is knowing Sam and our ridiculous Christmas-covered house are waiting for me on the other side.
Except, lately… he’s been acting weird. Distracted, secretive.
Yesterday, he asked if I could stay late at work tomorrow without explaining why.
Today, he kissed me goodbye like his mind was elsewhere.
And I can’t help it; the thought worms its way into my head that maybe, after four years of me and my chaos, he’s finally had enough.
Ivy’s voice crackles through the car speakers as I drive home. Oliver is exercising his lungs in the background. “Frankie, I promise you, Sam is not breaking up with you.”
“You haven’t seen him,” I argue, rubbing a hand over my tired eyes at a red light. “He’s cagey. And forgetful. And he practically flinched when I asked if we should go away this year for the holidays. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Ivy bursts out laughing. “He’s lived in your house with Christmas exploding from every corner for four years. If that man hasn’t run by now, he never will.”
Still, my stomach is in knots when I finally pull into the driveway.
And when I look up at our house, my heart drops out of my chest as my foot slams the brake too hard, propelling forward into the steering wheel.
Everything’s dark. Completely dark. No twinkle lights, no glowing reindeer, not even the icicle strands Sam grumbles about every year when he has to untangle them. Just… nothing.
Panic grips me. Did he leave? Did something happen?
“Ivy, I’m gonna call you back,” I say, shoving my car into park. I’m out and onto the crunching snow before the call disconnects, keys clenched tight in my fist.
I take two more steps, and the world explodes into sound.
We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas…
The song blasts from somewhere, and I yelp, then start to laugh, shaky and bewildered.
One by one, the lights wink on in a rolling wave—roofline, porch, the ridiculous reindeer Sam pretends to hate—until the whole house is familiar again and blazing so bright it turns our yard into daylight.
The door swings open, and Sam steps out onto the porch, haloed by the glow of the hallway light behind him.
He’s in a suit, an actual suit, and for a moment I can only stare, my pulse racing.
His eyes find mine, and everything frantic inside me settles like snow in a shaken globe.
“Surprise,” he says, voice carrying over the music, the side of his mouth tipped in a smile.
I climb the steps slowly, suspicion warring with the pounding of my heart. Up close, he looks devastating, hair combed back, his newly grown beard neatly combed, and yes, that’s definitely the tie I once blindfolded him with.
“I thought…” My voice catches, and I have to swallow hard as I step closer. “You’ve been so weird lately. I thought you were going to break up with me.”
His expression softens as he rushes the last couple of steps toward me. “Break up with you? Frankie, I’ve been trying to keep you from finding out about this.”
And before I can process what this is, he drops to one knee right there on our porch. The speakers are still blaring We Wish You a Merry Christmas, which makes the whole thing ridiculous and perfect all at once.
My hand flies to my mouth. “Sam…”
“I’ve lived in your house covered wall-to-wall in tinsel and twinkle lights.
I’ve survived four Christmases with a mechanical reindeer winking at me every time I take the trash out.
I’ve waited through night shifts and fielded phone calls at 3 a.m. when you couldn’t make it home.
” He takes my hand, steady and sure, eyes bright.
“And there’s not a single thing I’d change.
Not one. Because it’s you. It’s always been you. ”
Tears blur my vision, hot and fast. “Oh, my god.”
He takes one big deep breath that I almost feel in my chest too. “Francesca Louise Thompson, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Oh, my god.” A noise bursts out of me, half-choked and messy. “You… I… We… This is…”
“Still not hearing a yes,” he jokes, but I can hear the anxiety in his voice. Four years of being together have taught me so much more about my man. My future husband. My, oh my god, my very own live-in Grinch.
My mind glitches as I stare at him, mouth open. “But are you sure?”
He stands now, cupping my face in his big hands, warming my cheeks and wiping a tear I didn’t even know had escaped. “Baby, I want to spend every moment with you for the rest of my life. I have never been so sure of anything. You’re my favorite person… Christmas obsession and all.”
And suddenly I can’t stop the tumble of thoughts, a rush of memories.
I think of that first Christmas Eve, standing on his porch with frozen fingers and a Santa hat slipping down my head, singing so badly the neighbors probably considered calling the cops.
I’d made a fool of myself just to make him smile—and he hadn’t looked at me like a fool at all.
He’d looked at me like maybe I was exactly where I belonged.
And now here we are, years later, and he’s asking me to stay forever.
“Yes,” I shout over the music, throwing myself at him. “A million times, yes.”
He catches me easily, holding me close, twirling us around. Somewhere behind us, the reindeer winks, the lights beam, and the whole house glows again, brighter than ever.
He kisses me, and when I pull back, I can’t resist grinning. “You know this means you’ll be untangling lights with me until we’re old and wrinkled, right?”
He squeezes my hand tighter, a smile on his lips. “Worth it.”
Thank you for reading Sam and Frankie’s holiday novella. I hope you enjoyed them. Maybe we’ll get to see more of them next Christmas when they tie the knot… stay tuned for more Christmas chaos!