shared, but because my core essence as a human being finally recognizes with complete clarity it’s other half.
“I think I’ve fallen in love,” I whisper to the sunshine now pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It seems safer releasing that revelation indirectly, but I can’t prevent the words from coming out.
“I hope it’s with me,” Beck whispers back.
Smiling, I nod my head. “Yeah . . . it’s with you.”
His arms tighten around me more, nearly to the point of cutting off my breath. I don’t care though, because his words fill me with life. “That’s fortuitous . . . because I love you too.”
I look at Beck carefully, to see if something about him has changed in the last twenty minutes since we just shared the L-word with each other. It was unplanned . . . unscripted and totally unbelievable.
I mean . . . did that just happen?
After a little cuddling, we both cleaned up and dressed in sweatpants and T-shirts. I look at Beck now, with his hair sticking up all over the place and sexy stubble on his jaw and chin, reaching under the tree to pull out the two wrapped presents.
A small box from him is wrapped in silver with a green bow. It looks like a jewelry box and my heartbeat is tripping at the thought.
My gift to him is larger in a flat box about twenty inches square. It’s wrapped in rustic brown paper with an old-fashioned Christmas tree design and tied in thin red ribbon that I curled on the ends.
I sit on the couch after setting down my tea and Beck’s coffee. He joins me as I cross my legs underneath me, setting the small gift in my hands. Then he sits beside me, kicking his long legs out to rest his feet on the coffee table, resting my gift to him on his lap.
“You first,” I say as I nod down at the present he’s holding.
“Okay,” he responds with a boyish grin, and starts pulling hard on the ribbon. It immediately stretches enough that he can work it free of the corners, and his fingers are tearing into the paper. The brown packing box underneath is nondescript and he glances at me briefly with curiosity. I just smile back and watch as he pulls at the tape securing one end of the box.
Then he’s reaching inside and pulling out the picture collage frame that I bought earlier in the week while he was at work. It has a black finish and glass-framed cutouts that provide room for five four-by-six pictures, and it will match the decor of either his home office or the one at Townsend-North.
Turning it over in his hands, his lips curve upward as he studies the photos I’d chosen. Five of us together over the last few weeks. Three of them from Vienna that we had asked locals to take of us. One at an outdoor cafe where we were bundled in coats, hats, and scarves as we drank Viennese coffee by the Danube. One outside the State Opera House before we went inside, dressed elegantly and Beck’s arm around my waist. And one a selfie we’d taken while we waited at the airport for our return flight home. The other two were taken here in San Francisco. One by Caroline at Thanksgiving dinner, when Beck pulled me up from the table and onto his lap after we’d finished eating. He’s grinning at the camera and I’m looking slightly embarrassed by his display of affection in front of his sister, but I love this photo because it shows hope in my eyes.
The last photo is a surprise to Beck. He’s never seen it before, but I took it lying in his bed one morning while he was still asleep. He was on his back, his face looking so peaceful that I couldn’t resist grabbing my iPhone and snuggling in close to him. With my face tilted upward, I placed my lips against his jaw and gave him a soft kiss while he slept.
The picture is magical in my opinion, because it shows not only how beautiful Beck is, but how much I adore him, even when he’s not aware of it.
“Sela,” he says, his voice a little rough. His fingers brush over the picture of us in bed before looking over at me. “This is amazing. I love it.”
Shrugging with my cheeks feeling a little hot, I said, “I thought you could hang it up in one of your