Presents & Permanence
Chapter sixty-two
Grant
My palms are sweating, and that never happens to me.
I’ve spoken in front of thousands, faced down boardrooms full of sharks, but this?
Planning out every last detail with Marlow, even down to the little white lie that she and Declan had already jetted off to Italy, has my stomach in knots.
They are going—just not until after the next two matches—but I needed Eslin to believe they were gone so I could pull this off without interruption.
Tonight is hers. Her Christmas gift. A piece of magic I’ve been dying to give her.
I lead her through the glass doors of our building, her hand snug in mine, her eyes covered with the black silk blindfold I slipped over her in the car. She gasps, laughing nervously, tugging at my arm.
“What is going on, Mister?” she asks, her voice half a whisper, half a giggle.
“It’s still Christmas,” I murmur, brushing a kiss against her temple. “And I’ve got a surprise for my lady.”
Her fingers tighten around mine as I guide her toward the elevator, the marble floors echoing beneath our steps. I can feel her pulse in her palm, quick and uneven, like she’s bracing for something big.
“Relax, Es,” I say softly, giving her hand a squeeze. “I’ve got you.”
When the elevator doors slide open and we step out onto my floor, she stiffens again—but not with fear. With anticipation. I smile to myself, leading her into the penthouse, where the scent of pine and sugar cookies still lingers from earlier in the week.
I stop us in the middle of the living room. “Okay, sweetheart. Ready?”
She nods, breathless.
I pull the blindfold away, and her gasp nearly undoes me.
The entire room is a Christmas fever dream—the kind she confessed to me once she never really had as a child. Every piece of magic she missed, I brought to life.
In the corner, a full antique train set clatters cheerfully around the tree, the lights twinkling like stars.
Near it, a towering Barbie Dreamhouse stands tall, flanked by rows of dolls—vintage classics side by side with brand-new ones, each one pristine, waiting for her.
A bright-pink Barbie Corvette gleams beside a small boat.
The Corvette scaled perfectly so she could climb in and drive herself around if she wanted.
Ribbons of tinsel drip from the ceiling, candy canes dangle from garland, and stockings are lined up across the mantel with her name stitched right in the center.
Her hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes flood. “Grant,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “Oh my God. What is all this?”
I move behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and holding her steady as the emotion swells through her. “Every Christmas you missed, Es. Every unanswered letter from Santa—I wanted you to walk into them. They’re yours now.”
She turns in my arms, tears streaking her cheeks as she shakes her head in disbelief. “No one…no one’s ever done anything like this for me.”
I press my lips to her damp cheeks, to her forehead. “Get used to it. This is only the beginning.”
I take her hand again and guide her down the hall to the master on the first floor, the heavy oak door swinging open into a space Marlow poured herself into—soft golds, creamy whites, a reading nook by the window, shelves already lined with books, and a bed draped in warm, welcoming quilts. It feels lived in. It feels hers.
“I’m not asking you to move in,” I begin, my voice thick, careful. “At least not yet. But I am giving you a room of your own in my home. Marlow decorated it and everything.”
She turns to me, tears streaming uncontrollably. “What?”
I nod. “She wanted you to have a home with us. We wanted you to have a home with us. Whenever you wanted. Wherever we are.”
I dip my head to kiss her on the lips. Soft. “Because some people, Es…some people are meant to stay,” I remind her. A call back from that magical night in Vegas. A reminder of her mother’s words.
She looks around the room again. “It really feels like me!”
“That’s what I said,” Marlow calls from behind.
When Eslin turns, stunned, her tears spill harder because Declan and Marlow are standing in the doorway, Declan holding an oversized teddy bear almost as big as him. Marlow is holding a puppy.
Eslin looks at me and screams. “You got me a puppy?”
“Yeah,” Marlow says sarcastically. “He’s never given me a puppy when I asked for one.”
Eslin runs over and takes the furry rescue from Marlow’s hand. “And he has puppy breath!”
“I figure we can call him Nutmeg,” I say.
Eslin looks up at me. “Why Nutmeg?”
“A call back to the day we first kissed.”
She grins. “And the day I got hit in the head with a soccer ball from a nutmeg play?”
I laugh. “Exactly.”
We all hug. The four of us. And I press a kiss to the top of Eslin’s head and whisper, “Welcome home.”
And just like that, my world—the one I never thought I’d get back—feels whole.