Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
I’ve never been more certain of that than right now.
“Be right back, baby.” Swallowing the knot of emotion in my throat, I slide off the couch and duck out before she catches me getting misty-eyed. In the kitchen, I dig into the back of the pantry, unearthing the gift from where I so carefully hid it.
“Merry Christmas, El.” Back in the living room, I present it with a flourish, loving the way she laughs in response.
“A bag of Cheetos?” She shakes her head with a grin. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have. You’re too good to me.”
“Never. I’m just good enough. And it reminds me of the last Christmas we spent together, hiding out in your dad’s basement.”
Her gaze softens. “Me, too. But please tell me you didn’t bring a joint this time.”
“No, but now that you mention it…” I wriggle my eyebrows. “It’s legal here. I could make a midnight run.”
“No thanks, stoner boy. I’m content with Cheetos. And the good news is, I’m no longer wearing white snow pants.” Ellie sits up straight on the couch, reaching for the bag and popping it open in with a well-practiced yank. “I’m going in.”
She peeks into the bag, her smile melting into a confused frown.
“Is there a problem with your gift, Eleanor?” I ask.
“They’re all white. No, they’re…” She reaches inside and pulls out a handful of Styrofoam packing peanuts. Casting a narrow glance my way, she asks, “What are you up to, Jack Holt?”
“Looks like Santa screwed up my order. It’s like I always say, El. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” I blow out a mock sigh of frustration then crouch on my knee in front of her, my hands sliding up her thighs. “Did he leave a note or anything?”
“Let me check.” Grinning like—well, the proverbial kid on Christmas, Ellie digs deeper into the bag, retrieving a small box wrapped in shiny silver paper and tied with a silky white ribbon.
Her eyes sparkle in the firelight, wonder lighting up her pretty face. God, she’s beautiful. Inside and out. Some days I still can’t even believe it’s real—that she picked me. That she’s here, right now, smiling at me like I’m all the man she’ll ever need.
There was a time in my life—not that long ago—when that thought would’ve sent me running for the hills, too scared of losing something so precious to let myself believe I could keep it.
But those days are over. Every moment with Ellie is a gift—one that takes up so much room in my heart there’s no longer a place for fear.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she says softly, leaning in to wrap her slim fingers around the back of my neck. She presses her lips to mine before pulling away, her eyes glazing with emotion. “This whole trip… everything has been so perfect… I don’t know how to thank you. I’m—”
“Ellie, please open the box.”
“Okay, okay,” she says with a sniff and a laugh as she sits back and daintily removes the bow, taking her sweet time peeling off the tape, unfolding every corner, then finally sliding out the black velvet box.
Ellie gasps, pressing a hand to her chest.
“You’re already my Capital P,” I say, taking the box from her hand and opening it. “Now I want you to be my Capital F.”
“Fiancée,” she whispers, tears gathering in her eyes as I remove the ring from the velvet insert.
“No, my Forever.” I slide it over her finger and look into her beautiful blue eyes, my entire body humming with excitement and love and a rush of emotion I can’t even name, but that makes my heart soar. “Eleanor Victoria Seyfried, will you marry me?”
Ellie lets out a squeak, but she doesn’t hesitate, sliding off the couch and tackling me in a fierce hug. “Yes! Yes, I will marry you, Jack Edward Holt. I will be your Capital P, Capital F, Capital everything.”
Fighting my own tears, I pull her into a deep, Bailey’s-and-cocoa kiss, committing everything about this moment to memory. The sweet taste of her mouth, the hot brush of her fingers as she tugs my shirt over my head, the love in her eyes as I stroke her wet heat.