Chapter 22 Cooke
COOKE
Waking up on Christmas Day sitting up on a couch in the house of a woman I've really just met should feel weird.
But it doesn't. It feels perfectly right.
My chest goes tight as I look at Gretchen and Gavin, both of them sleeping peacefully under the blanket I settled over them in the night.
This feeling. Like my world is complete in this moment.
All the time and work I've spent fighting to get to a point in my life where I'd feel this satisfied, and this is how it finally happens?
I shake my head. My jaw is covered in stubble as I scratch at it. The rational part of me says I should get up and let them celebrate Christmas together. Gretchen invited me for dinner, but that doesn't mean I have to force my way into their celebration before then.
“Don't even think about leaving,” Gretchen whispers, and I look to see she's awake, watching me. She arches an eyebrow and reaches a hand out to me. “I can see your brain is working really hard right now. So I'll say it again. Stay. Spend Christmas with us.”
That feeling in my chest gets tighter, bigger, and it's hard to draw a deep breath.
“Okay,” I say, and I’m rewarded by her sleepy yet undoubtedly happy smile.
I take her hand in mine, leaning forward and brushing a kiss over her knuckles.
Gavin stirs then, and sits up, stretching his arms up over his head.
“It's Christmas.”
“It sure is,” says Gretchen, pointing him toward the tree. “No point in waiting, since we're all here.”
He cheers and dashes to the presents, pulling each one out carefully. He lifts up a square one wrapped in teddy bears with Santa hats on, and hands it to me. I stare down at it, seeing my name written in boyish script.
“It's from me.” Gavin's eyes are shining when I lift my gaze, and he's grinning. “Corey and I went shopping and I found this for you.”
I nod, grating out, “Thank you.” I clear my throat of the emotion clogging it. I try again, “Thank you, Gavin. Really.”
“You're welcome.”
Gavin gets into full gift mode then, handing presents to me and his sister, leaving a small group for himself.
“Ready. Set. Go!” he finally crows, and then we all start tearing into our gifts at the same time.
Laughter fills the air, and I have a sudden thought of what this tradition will be like when there's a full house of children and grandchildren.
That's when it hits me. What Merritt's been trying to tell me.
When you know, you know. And I know that I'm in love with Gretchen. She's who I want to be with and there's no going back for me. I'm done.
“Oh, wow.” Gretchen's awed whisper pulls me from my thoughts, and I focus on her. Paper is crumpled around her and she's holding a jewelry box. Her eyes are clouded with tears and she tips the open box toward me. Inside is a necklace and earrings, the shining gems set to look like snowflakes.
Gavin watches her reaction proudly and when she wipes a single tear from her cheek, he says, “I knew you'd like it. I knew it!”
I dip my head to the side as his snow shoveling plan making sense now. The girl he wanted to buy a gift for was Gretchen. “That was a good choice.”
He comes to my side and says quietly, “I thought it was pretty. Just like her.”
“It is. I mean it. That was a good pick.”
“Thanks.” He looks down at the box in my hands. “You need to open yours.”
I don't. Not really. What's in the box doesn't actually matter to me. What matters is that he thought of me, took the time to wrap this gift, and have it waiting under the tree for me. Not as an afterthought, but because he wanted me to be here.
But under his hopeful eyes, I pry open the lid, and pull out a frame. When I turn it over, I see one of the snowflakes we made the other night is secured inside, and written on it is:
Thank you, Cooke, for helping make this Christmas the best one ever.
Love, Gavin
My eyes fill and I don't bother to swipe at the moisture I know is there. I just open my arms and Gavin steps into them, giving me a hug I didn't realize I needed.
And I understand. The Christmas gift I've always wanted.
It's this. It's family.
Gretchen joins us, wrapping her arms around us both, and we stay like that for a while, just enjoying being close to each other.
When we break apart, Gretchen taps another present and says, “This one's from me.”
I pull the paper off, curiosity getting to me, and when I open it, I start laughing. Inside are three boxes of boxed stuffing.
“This way you'll know you can have your favorite comfort food any time.”
It's simple and thoughtful. The whole morning is. There aren't a lot of presents, but each one is met with joy and appreciation.
Gretchen's reaction to my gift for her is surprising. She holds up the card and her mouth drops open.
“What is this?” she asks, her voice trembling a little.
“That is a prepaid spa day. Full body massage, facial, whatever you want. Just call them up and schedule it.”
She shakes her head, and I easily anticipate her objections.
“You spend every single day taking care of other people. Your patients, Gavin, even me,” I say, holding up a box of stuffing. “You deserve a day of rest. Where the only one being taken care of is you.”
Gavin sits on the couch beside her, putting an arm around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder.
“This is a good present, Gretchen. Really good.”
Finally, she nods and then looks to me. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
We pick up the discarded wrapping paper and throw it away.
“All right, you two.” Gretchen's regained control of her emotions, and her beautiful smile is back. “Time to get cooking.”
She picks up one of my boxes of stuffing and heads toward the kitchen, but I stop her with a gentle touch on the wrist.
“Merry Christmas.” Her eyes are bright, and she leans toward me. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Thank you for making this the best Christmas of my life.”
Then I seal my lips to hers, and her free hand slides up to my chest. Gavin cheers and I echo his words in my own thoughts.
“Best Christmas, ever!”