Eric
The definition of joy is “a feeling of great pleasure and happiness.” I know this because I looked it up the day after Ava and I got engaged. I once thought I’d never again be capable of true joy, but Ava showed me otherwise. I’ll be thankful to her forever for restoring my faith in humanity.
It’s fitting that Rob and Camille are the first to hear our big news, since they’re the reason we met in the first place. We pick them up for the ride to Purchase, and when they’re settled in the backseat of my car, Ava turns and flashes her bling.
Camille lets out a bloodcurdling scream that makes us laugh.
“Jesus, woman,” Rob mutters, rubbing his ear.
Reaching for Ava’s hand, Camille takes a good look at the ring. “Well done, Eric. It’s gorgeous.”
“I love it,” Ava says, beaming at me.
I’m so glad she’s happy with the ring. I agonized over which one to get her, and I’ve had it for a month as I counted down to Christmas Eve.
Guys are told to never give engagement rings for Christmas or birthdays because they count as gifts that the woman gets to keep if the relationship goes south.
If this relationship goes south, she can keep the ring. That’ll be the least of my concerns.
The last thing I want to think about today is my worst-case scenario. Today I want to wallow in the joy I feel at having found my soul mate, my perfect partner and the woman of my dreams.
Rob squeezes my shoulder. “Congrats, bud. Happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling at my brother in the rearview mirror.
Ava and Camille chatter all the way to Purchase about weddings and wedding planners and wedding venues.
“Get ready,” Rob mutters when they come up for air. “It’s gonna be all-wedding-all-the-time until the big day.”
“Be quiet, Rob,” Camille says. “When all you have to do is show up in a tux and say ‘I do,’ you don’t get to make fun of the process.”
“Be glad you’re not marrying a lawyer,” Rob says. “At least you’ll have a chance at actually winning an argument.”
“Ava and I don’t argue,” I say, squeezing her hand.
The biggest fight we’ve had since we’ve been together is over how to load the dishwasher.
She’s a sorter—in her world, the silverware must be separated by type into compartments while loading, which I think is a waste of time.
What the hell does it matter if you sort going in or coming out?
According to my beloved, it matters greatly.
I refuse to sort. She refuses to throw the silverware in the basket willy-nilly the way I would if left to my own devices.
I’ve caught her reorganizing my work, which led to more bickering.
Apparently, I also snore when I drink, which she handles by poking me until I wake up and turn over.
As you can see, being with Ava is a terrible hardship, but we’ve managed to work through our “differences.” We agree on everything that matters.
Our priorities are in alignment. We care greatly about our family and friends, our community and our careers.
We both enjoy volunteering our time to worthy causes, such as the local food bank and after-school programs for underprivileged kids.
Ava got her entire office, even Catty Caitlyn, to donate a Saturday to paint a community center that runs programs for at-risk youth.
I helped, too, mostly because I didn’t want to spend an entire day without her.
Yeah, I’m that far gone over her, but whatever.
She makes me happy, and I like being happy.
It’s such a huge departure from where I was this time last year, when I didn’t know which end was up or how I would survive what Brittany had done to me.
After the months I’ve spent with Ava, Brittany feels like a bad dream that happened to someone else.
We arrive at Ava’s parents’ house and share our news with our families, who are overjoyed.
“Here’s to sisters marrying brothers,” her dad says, toasting us at dinner.
“Hear, hear.” My dad raises his glass to us. “Happy for you both.”
“When’s the big day?” Jules asks Ava.
“We haven’t talked about that yet, but maybe next summer?” She looks to me for confirmation.
“Whatever you want is fine with me.”
“Careful,” Rob says. “A sentence like that sets a dangerous precedent.”
His wife smacks him upside the head, making everyone laugh. “Shut up, Rob.”
“I’d better get back to dating,” Amy says during dessert. “That’s the only thing the two of you have ever done better than me.”
“Whatever,” Rob says, rolling his eyes. “We did everything better than you.”
“Um, no,” Amy says indignantly. “That’s not true.
Who graduated highest in our high school class out of the three of us?
Who qualified for the junior Olympics in gymnastics?
Who was the first to make enough money to buy her own car?
” Amy holds up her hand to her ear. “What’s that? No comments from my womb-mates?”
I grimace. “Don’t talk about wombs over Christmas dinner.”
“Christmas is all about the womb,” Amy retorts.
“If we’re going to talk about girl parts,” Rob says, his eyes dancing with glee, “then—”
Whatever he was going to say is muffled by Camille’s hand over his mouth. “I have no idea how that sentence was going to end, and I, for one, do not want to know.”
Rob nibbles on her hand, and Camille dissolves into giggles.
It’s a very good day—one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had, even if the glaring absence of my mother makes it a far different holiday from what I’m used to. Nothing can bring me down today.
Or so I think.
Ava
I’m flying high from last night and a wonderful day with our families. The excitement of our engagement and the talk of wedding plans has consumed me today. I don’t realize until we get home that I never gave Eric the gifts I bought for him, which have been under our tree for weeks now.
“Come open your gifts,” I say, taking his hand to lead him to the sofa.
“I have some for you, too.”
“You gave me a ring! That’s more than enough.”
“That was a life gift, not a Christmas gift.”
He loves the photo frame I got him for his office that I loaded with tons of pictures of us together and wants to see every photo before he moves on to the next gift, which is a framed piece of artwork with the following words written in a beautiful script font:
When I was at my lowest, there you were to raise me up.
“I love this, Ava,” he says in a hushed voice. “I could say the same for you.”
“I thought we might find a place to put it where we can both enjoy it.”
“In the bedroom.”
“That works for me.”
He puts an arm around me and kisses me. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for everything.”
I smile and return his kiss. “Ditto.”
My gifts to him include courtside seats to see his beloved Knicks play the Lakers at Madison Square Garden.
“How’d you score courtside seats?” he asks, clearly thrilled with the gift.
“One word: Miles.”
“I love him—almost as much as I love you. This is fabulous. Thank you!”
His happiness is my happiness. It really is that simple.
He got me tickets to see “Hello, Dolly” on Broadway and my very first I Love NY T-shirt, which he said I had to have as an official New York City resident. The last thing he gives me is the sexiest lingerie I’ve ever owned, from La Perla.
“I can’t wait to see that on you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of making you wait.” Giving him a saucy look, I get up, take the package with me and go into the bedroom to change.
The lavender-and-black-lace baby-doll nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, which, of course, is the whole point.
I don the matching thong and top off the outfit with a pair of spike heels.
I put a little wiggle in my walk when I model it for Eric.
He stares at me with fire in his gaze. Twirling his finger, he asks me to turn and show him the back.
I smile at him over my shoulder. “What do you think?”
“I think,” he says slowly, “that I have to be the luckiest guy who ever lived.”
I saunter over to him, and propping a knee on either side of him, I straddle him and run my fingers through his hair. “The luck runs both ways.”
He cups my ass and pulls me in tight against his erection. “Nah. I’m way luckier than you are.”
“No way.”
“Mmm,” he says, kissing me. “Yes, way.”
The “argument” ends in a draw, with both of us “winning” when we make love right there, with me on top of him.
I feel his love for me in every kiss, every caress and every deep thrust of his cock.
In his arms, I’m able to let go of everything and give myself to him completely.
I can’t believe it’s possible that our lovemaking is even more intense since we got engaged, but there’s something to be said for commitment.
Afterward, we lie on the sofa with the Christmas tree lights casting a soft, romantic glow over us. Outside, the wind howls and the snow that was predicted for tonight begins to fall.
“This was the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” I tell him, smoothing my hand over his arm.
“I had that same thought earlier. We’re going to have to work really hard to top this one.”
“I’m up to that challenge if you are.”
“We’ve got a lifetime of Christmases to look forward to, and I’ll gladly take that challenge.”
I’m on the verge of dozing off when my phone buzzes with a text that I ignore. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. Then it buzzes three more times in rapid succession, and I begin to fear that something is wrong. “Let me check that.”
Eric releases me so I can reach for the phone on the coffee table. The texts are from Miles:
Ava? Are you up?
Have you seen the news?
Ava?
Turn on the TV.
I stare at the phone for a long time, torn between wanting to know what’s up and not wanting to know.
This has been the best day of my life, and I don’t want anything to ruin it.
Not that long ago, a text like that would’ve sent me flying for the remote.
Now, I don’t want to know. But Miles can see that I’ve read the texts, so I respond to him.
On my way to sleep. What’s up?