Chapter 28
Everly
It’s a tough call who is more joyful during dinner, Mom or me. The food is delicious but pales in comparison to the lightness in my spirit. A new chapter in my life is dawning,
Oakley has settled into the least annoying version of herself. Now that her beef with Knox is resolved, I get the feeling she genuinely likes him. But as I said to Mom, how could she not? I don’t need her approval, but the stamp of approval from a loved one never hurts.
The only downside of my present bliss is the unsettled vibe my big-sis meter is registering. First chance I get, I’ll do a sisterly welfare check.
We all work jointly to clear the table and store leftovers away once the meal is complete, then return to our places for pumpkin pie, pecan pie, coffee, and chocolate chip cookies. Side by side, Knox and I lock pinkies under the table.
After a while, Oakley drifts from the room, phone in hand, mumbling about needing to charge it. Mom and Dad huddle at the end of the table. I catch Knox’s eye and incline my head toward the living room.
“Would your dad mind if I stoke this fire?” he asks, eyeing the dying flames.
“Not at all. Have at it.”
He opens the glass doors and jabs the iron poker around, then throws another log on the grate. At last, he settles beside me on the sofa and drapes his arm around my shoulder. I snuggle into his side, sighing with peaceful joy. The night is perfection, and the future shines bright.
The soft strains of Silent Night drift from a video playing on the TV.
“Since we have a minute, would now be a good time to give you my gift, Ev?”
I rub my hands together. “You mean that cute little box with a giant red bow is mine?” It rode into the house atop the basket of goodies for Mom.
He taps my nose. “That’s the one.”
I pop up before he can and snatch it from the basket, then take my gift to him from its spot beneath the tree.
“Open mine first.” Nerves gather in my stomach. Working all day yesterday at the diner and all day today in the kitchen with Mom left me no time for serious gift shopping. Next year, I’ll do better.
Yes, next year. I feel it to my toes.
Knox neatly slips his finger beneath the strip of tape at the bottom of the box.
“Oh brother. You’re one of those people?”
He leans back to look at me. “What people?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s okay to rip the paper, buddy.”
“Sorry, force of habit. When I was a kid, Mom always tried to save as much wrapping paper as possible to reuse.”
I stare him down. He’s serious as a heart attack, so I guess he wasn’t exaggerating when he said his early years were lean.
Suddenly, he throws caution to the wind and rips, wads, and tosses the sparkly paper aside.
He opens the box. A black French bulldog wearing a Santa hat decorates a jumbo ceramic mug.
Beneath the dog, Dozer is painted in black script.
I ordered it online the night after I saw the socks and paid oodles to have it overnighted.
In that moment, my choice felt perfect. In the present one, it feels silly.
“Aw, Ev. I love it.”
I sigh. “It isn’t much.”
He hugs me, pressing my cheek into his soft sweater. “It’s perfect. You better know this is my new favorite mug henceforth, Christmastime or otherwise.” He kisses the top of my head and sets his box in my lap. “Your turn.”
Fingers trembling, I tug one end of the ribbon, and the perfectly swirled bow collapses. With a single, well-placed rip, the sturdy, professional-grade wrapping paper falls from the lightweight box.
Parting white tissue paper, I lift out a delicately created ornament.
I recognize it as the work of the artist we watched craft his wares the night of the Christmas tree lighting.
The sphere is handcrafted glass, lightly frosted, adorned with delicate, sparkling snowflakes. “It’s beautiful, Knox.” Truly.
“Turn it around.”
I do, and my hands shake—but in a good way. The current year and First Christmas is scripted in the center of an intricate snowflake.
Knox’s teeth bite into his lip. He looks sheepish. “Too soon?”
Some might say it is, but my heart knows, by God’s grace, this Christmas will be the first of many.
Capturing his warm, waiting gaze, I swing my head slowly from side to side. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Knox Herd.”
“And I for you, Everly Anne.”
His fingers on my shoulder curl, drawing me in yet again. Of their own accord, my lips pucker.
Knox’s approach stalls. He and I both jerk backward as the front door flies open. In typical, dramatic fashion, my little sis, whom I didn’t realize had even gone outside, barrels into the house, a phone charging cord sprouting from her grip.
I scowl at the interruption and, more specifically, at her obnoxious, knowing smirk.
Knox
“Oak, you really need to tamp down the drama. Could you do that, please? For all our sakes.”
Oakley’s braid swings like a metronome behind her back. “Nope, not this time.”
Everly points her Christmassy-red-tipped finger. Stops. Which is when I notice a glistening spot in Oakley’s hair. A second on her shoulder.
Everly must see it, too. She stands.
“Kissy-face can wait. You’re going to forgive the interruption this time, trust me. I know you, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to like what I have to say…” she pauses dramatically and flourishes one arm. “It’s snowing!”
Everly’s gasp could shatter my eardrum. She grabs my hand and hauls me around the coffee table, past her sister, and out the back door.
And here I thought I was the highlight of the lady’s evening, but snow has pulled rank.
Fluffy snowflakes flit and flutter, already blanketing the grass. I wrap my arms around Everly’s waist and clasp my hands atop her stomach.
“Snow on Christmas Eve!” She leans into me, her back melding to my chest. “It’s like magic, isn’t it?”
Her joy makes me…giddy…with joy of my own. “I’m beginning to see snow as my personal good luck charm.”
“Good luck?”
“Every time it snows, I get to kiss you.”
She sighs dreamily, then stiffens. “Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“What if I only ever get to kiss you when it snows? We don’t exactly live in the North Pole.”
I chuckle against her ear. “No worries, Snowflake. If you think a little warm weather is going to stop me from loving you—”
She gasps and twirls around in my arms. Takes me a second, but I figure things out. Too soon?
Not for me. But I can understand—
She flattens her palms on my chest. “I’m falling hard, Knox Herd.
My chest releases with the rightness of it all. I can’t hold Everly Wilkes tightly enough and doubt I’ll ever be able to.
“Happy snowy Christmas to you, Snowflake.”
“And to you, Mr. Big Deal.”
The first of many to come.