Chapter 37
CLAIRE
Boston in November feels like déjà vu.
The hotel lobby glitters with the same chandeliers, the same polished marble floors, the same faint hum of holiday music creating a cozy ambience.
Last year, I’d walked through these doors bracing myself for long, lonely nights.
Filling every empty hour with work so I wouldn’t notice what I was missing.
This year is different.
This year, I have him.
Even if Declan couldn’t be here like he’d hoped.
Despite the challenges of a long-distance relationship, we’ve made it work over the past year.
Thankfully, we’re both able to work remotely at times, which allows us to see each other quite often.
Declan even bought Finn’s townhouse so he has a place to call home in Sycamore Falls.
I know this arrangement can’t go on forever.
One day I’ll have to move to D.C. if I want to be with Declan.
But I’m enjoying what we have. And what we have is amazing.
As I make my way through the lobby after a long day of seminars, I glance toward the bar that changed everything. I’d planned to head straight to my room to get some sleep before my early morning flight to D.C. tomorrow. But since this is my last night in town, I let myself drift toward the bar.
The bartender greets me with a smile, and soon I’m sipping a glass of wine, the robust cabernet warming me. The air smells faintly of citrus peel and clove from the mulled wine being served. The comforting murmur of strangers swells around me, intermingling with laughter and clinking glasses.
Relaxing into my barstool, I pull out my phone and snap a photo of my wine, ensuring I capture the familiar background.
Then I send it to Declan.
Me:
Wish you were here.
He doesn’t immediately reply. It’s not surprising. He’s buried in oral argument prep and warned me he’d be working late. All so he can devote his full attention to me the second my plane lands tomorrow morning.
I take another sip, idly scrolling social media, when movement catches my eye. I look up and my stomach sinks as the same creep from last year, who I’ve been avoiding all week at this conference, makes his way toward the bar.
Our eyes meet, and I look away, but it doesn’t matter.
He still takes it as an invitation.
Apparently, his ability to read the room hasn’t improved.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks, looming over me.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I bite out.
He smirks. “I’ll take my chances.” He slides into the chair beside me.
“I was just leaving anyway.” I start to stand, but his hand clamps around my wrist.
“Stay. I promise I don’t bite.” He licks his lips, raking his gaze down my body. “Unless you want me to.”
I open my mouth to berate him when a loud voice thunders behind me.
“If you don’t want me to break every bone in that hand, you’ll let her go right now.”
My head whips around, and I inhale a sharp breath.
Declan.
Dark suit, broad shoulders, fury carved into every line of his face.
The creep’s grip loosens instantly, but that doesn’t matter to Declan. He moves closer, looming large over him.
“I thought you learned your lesson last year.”
“I— I was just being friendly,” the man stammers.
“Didn’t look that way to me.” Declan’s tone drops, low and dangerous. “Now apologize.”
“I didn’t—”
“I said…” Declan takes a deliberate step closer, “apologize.”
Several tense beats stretch out as the entire bar watches the drama unfold.
Finally, the man mumbles, “Sorry.”
Declan’s eyes flick to me. “Is that good enough for you?”
I square my shoulders, heart hammering. “It’ll do for now.”
Declan gives a small nod, and the man takes that as his cue to leave. But before he can make it more than a few feet, Declan calls out, “One more thing.”
The man faces him. “What’s that?”
Declan reels back. The crack of knuckles against jaw echoes like a gunshot.
The man staggers, clutching his face. A few patrons cheer outright, the bartender shaking her head but grinning.
“About damn time,” she mutters.
Declan doesn’t even spare the man another glance. He wraps me in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “I thought you were pulling an all-nighter.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” His mouth tips into a wicked smile. “It is our anniversary, after all. One year ago, you screamed my name for the first time.”
I laugh breathlessly, still reeling from his unexpected presence. “And they say romance is dead.”
He smiles, but when he looks at me, there’s something else in his gaze. Something heavier.
“Let me pay and we can go up to my room. Maybe recreate that first night.”
His hand tightens at my waist. “I’d love nothing more. But there’s something I need to do first. Something I’ve been wanting to do for a while and was waiting for the right time. I wasn’t sure when that would be, but now that I’m here again, I know this is it.”
My brow furrows. “Right time for what?”
Before I have a chance to wrap my head around what he’s doing, he drops to one knee.
In the middle of the crowded bar.
Gasps ripple through the room, and I almost forget how to breathe.
“One year ago today, I walked into this very bar, feeling more lost than I ever had. I’d just learned I had an adult son, and I didn’t know how to process it. Then I saw you. And I couldn’t tear my eyes from you. I knew I’d regret it every day for the rest of my life if I didn’t talk to you.”
“I’m so glad you did,” I manage to say through the lump in my throat.
“I never thought I’d be the kind of man to drop to one knee in a room full of strangers, but you make me want things I never thought I would.
That I didn’t think I deserved.” His voice breaks before his expression lightens.
“And not just because of all those cheesy Hallmark movies you force me to watch.”
“Admit it. They’ve grown on you.”
“Maybe a little.” He flashes me an easy smile. “But they don’t hold a candle to us. To what we have. It’s better than any scripted ending. Because what we have is real. And I never want to stop experiencing this.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box, flicking it open to reveal a stunning round-cut solitaire.
“I’ve spent my whole life running from love,” he says, eyes locked to mine. “But I don’t want to run anymore. I promise to keep surprising you. I promise never to make you feel alone again. I promise to kill every spider in your kitchen and warm your frozen feet in the middle of the night.”
A flicker of humor curves his mouth before his voice deepens, growing tender. “Most of all, I promise to give you every single piece of me. Every day. So please, Claire. Will you marry me?”
The bar falls silent, everyone waiting.
And for once, I don’t hesitate.
“Yes.” My voice shakes, but the word is sure. “God, yes.”
The cheer that explodes around us is deafening, but I barely hear it. Declan jumps to his feet as he slides the ring onto my finger, kissing me with such intensity my knees almost buckle.
“You have me,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine, his promise for me and me alone. “No pieces. No scraps. You own me, Claire. For the rest of my life.”
I smile through my tears. “And you own me, Declan.”
Thank you so much for reading The One Night Stand Before Christmas.