Chapter 25 #2
She's sitting up in bed, hair loose around her shoulders, wearing one of Knox's paint-stained t-shirts that absolutely swallows her. She looks soft and young and everything I want to protect in this world.
"Can't sleep?" I ask, hovering in the doorway.
"Too wound up. Today was a lot." She pats the bed beside her. "Sit with me?"
I close the door behind me and settle on the edge of her bed. "Good a lot or bad a lot?"
"The best a lot." She smiles. "William giving back our freedom. That painting from Knox. The movie. Just... all of it."
"It was a good day," I agree. "One for the books. Or journals, I suppose."
"Have you written in yours yet?"
"Planning to tomorrow. Document everything while it's fresh." I study her face. "What about you?"
"I wrote a little this morning. Before..." She blushes slightly. "Before everything."
"Ah yes. Before the great Christmas sex marathon."
"Travis!" She swats at me, laughing. "That's so crude."
"Would you prefer 'Before the festive fornication'? 'The yuletide yearning'? 'The seasonal seduction'?"
"Stop," she giggles. "You're terrible."
"I'm accurate." But I'm grinning too. "It was quite the morning."
"It was perfect," she says softly. "Being with all of you like that. Feeling so..."
"Loved?"
"Yes," she says. "Like I'm something precious."
"You are." The words come out more serious than I intended. "Carina, you have to know that. You're everything to us."
She looks at me for a long moment, then shifts over. "Stay with me tonight? Not for... just to sleep. I don't want to be alone."
"Of course." I kick off my shoes, take off my pants and shirt and slide under the covers, gathering her against me. She fits perfectly, her head on my chest, our breathing synchronizing naturally.
"Travis?" she says after a moment. "I love you."
The words hit me like a physical thing. We've said it in groups, in passion, in passing. But this quiet declaration in the dark feels different.
"I love you too," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Have for a while now."
"Yeah?"
"Absolutely." I tighten my arms around her. "So much."
We lie quietly for a while, watching snow start to fall again outside her window. It comes down in fat, lazy flakes, adding to the already impressive accumulation.
"Tell me about Christmas when you were little," she says. "Before everything got complicated."
I think back, sifting through memories. "My grandmother made these incredible sugar cookies every year. Not just circles or trees, but elaborate designs. Reindeer with individual antler points. Snowflakes where no two were alike. She'd spend days on them."
"Sounds tedious."
"It was meticulous. But she loved it. Said the detail was what made them special.
" I smile at the memory. "I'd sit at her kitchen table for hours, trying to copy her techniques.
Mine always looked like a child had made them—which, to be fair, I was pretty young.
But she'd display them right alongside hers, equally proud. "
"That's beautiful."
"What about you? Childhood Christmas memories?"
She's quiet for so long I think she may have fallen asleep.
Then: "My mom always let me open one present on Christmas Eve.
Always pajamas, so I'd have something new to wear on Christmas morning.
It was silly—I knew what it would be—but I loved the tradition.
The anticipation. The way she'd act surprised when I picked up the wrapped box and guessed it was pajamas. "
"Do you still talk to her?"
"Sometimes. She didn't... she didn't understand about Dylan. Why I stayed so long. Why I didn't tell her how bad it was." Her voice is carefully neutral. "We're rebuilding. Slowly."
"Maybe she could visit," I suggest. "Meet your new family."
"My mother meeting the three of you?" She laughs softly. "That would be interesting."
"We're very charming when we want to be."
"You're very charming all the time," she corrects. "It's actually annoying. Do you know how hard it is to be mad at someone who always knows exactly what to say?"
"I don't always know what to say."
"Name one time."
I think. "When you asked if your ass looked good in those ski pants."
"You said it looked fantastic!"
"Right, but what I was thinking was 'good enough to make me ski into a tree,' which seemed inappropriate at the moment."
She laughs again, the sound vibrating through my chest. "See? Even when you don't know what to say, you know what to say."
"Years of practice." I run my fingers through her hair absently. "Had to be the stable one. The mediator. The one who kept everyone from killing each other."
"Must have been exhausting."
"Sometimes. But it also gave me purpose. I like taking care of people. Making sure everyone's okay." I pause. "Though I'm learning it's nice to be taken care of too."
"Yeah?"
"You do it without even thinking. Make my coffee just how I like it. Touch my shoulder when you pass my chair. Ask how I'm doing and actually wait for an answer." I press another kiss to her hair. "No one's done that for me in a long time."
"Then they were idiots," she says firmly.
"Or I was very good at not letting them."
"That too." She yawns, burrowing closer. "Travis?"
"Hmm?"
"This is my new favorite Christmas memory. Right here. The movie and the snow and you holding me."
My chest goes tight with emotion. "Mine too."
"Even better than your grandmother's cookies?"
"Even better," I confirm. "Though adding some cookies to the memory wouldn’t be a bad idea."
"You got it," she murmurs sleepily. "Tomorrow. I'll make you cookies."
"You don't have to—"
"I know I don't. I want to. Let me take care of you."
And that's Carina. Always giving, always thinking of others, always finding ways to show love through food and touch and being present.
"Okay," I agree softly. "Cookies tomorrow."
"With individual antler points," she adds, mumbling her words with approaching sleep.
"If you insist."
"I do." A pause. "Love you, Travis."
"Love you too, Carina. Sleep now."
She drifts off within minutes, her breathing evening out, her body relaxing completely against mine. I stay awake longer, watching the snow fall, feeling her heartbeat against my chest, marveling at how different life looks now compared to even a month ago.
The board meeting looms tomorrow. Dylan is still out there somewhere, plotting. The media circus hasn't died down. We have a thousand logistics to figure out about how to make a four-person relationship work long-term.
But right now, in this moment, with snow falling and Carina warm in my arms and the memory of Jimmy Stewart's joy-filled face in my mind, everything feels possible.
Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.
Every time Carina smiles, my world gets a little brighter.
Every time we choose each other, despite the complications, we build something stronger.
This is our wonderful life. Messy and complicated and absolutely worth every challenge.
I close my eyes, letting sleep finally take me, already looking forward to tomorrow. To cookies and snow and whatever comes next.
Together. Always together.