about before, but you’re absolutely right. No matter what’s going on, food is normally involved, especially during the holidays.”
He took his third muffin, and she laughed. “It’s such a normal morning that it doesn’t really feel like Christmas,” she said.
“Why don’t you have a tree?” he asked her. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed sooner. Maybe because he’d been more interested in getting her to date him than worrying about the holidays.
“It’s just me here. I usually spend it with Brooke and Sarah, so I haven’t bothered with a messy tree in a long while,” she told him.
“That breaks my heart. Next year we’ll have a tree.”
Her eyes widened at his words, and he could see she was beginning to panic. He wasn’t going to give her time to do that. He got up and wrapped her in his arms, only giving her a second before he kissed her the way he’d wanted to from the moment he’d woken.
When he pulled back, she no longer looked panicked. She seemed very satisfied and dreamy. That was exactly how he liked her appearing. It made him smile. He could definitely be happy sweeping her off her feet over and over again.
“Merry Christmas, Chloe. I’m glad to be here with you,” he said. The gift he’d gotten her was hidden in his truck. He’d have to slip something on unless he wanted the neighbors talking when he went out there to get it.
“Merry Christmas, Brandon,” she replied. She seemed almost dreamy as she gazed at him. He loved big family Christmases and was looking forward to spending it with his brothers and their spouses . . . and with Chloe. There was no way he was letting her stay in her undecorated house on this magical day.
“I think it’s time for your gift,” he said, no longer able to wait. He was always eager to give a gift when he bought one. Probably because he didn’t do it too often. He truly didn’t like to give a gift just to give one.
“You didn’t need to get me anything,” she said, panic in her eyes again. He was guessing she hadn’t gotten him something, and that was okay with him. She was the only gift he needed.
“Of course I did,” he argued before he disappeared from the room. He decided to risk the neighbors talking and grabbed his truck keys to unlock the door. It was cold outside, and his bare feet were numb by the time he returned with the snowflake-paper-wrapped package.
“I didn’t get anything for you,” she said as she reluctantly accepted the box. She twisted it in her hands as she shifted on her feet.
“Yes, you did,” he said. She looked at him with confusion. “You gave me you,” he told her.
Tears brightened her eyes before she broke the connection of their gaze and looked down at the box. Finally she sat next to him as she carefully began undoing the wrapping. When she pulled the lid off the package, she looked at him with tears in her eyes.
It was an antique wooden tea box with a phoenix burned into it.
“Wow, Brandon. This is stunning,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned it over in her hands. The date on the bottom said 1892. It was a true treasure. He was so glad he’d found it.
“I was looking for the perfect gift, and I found this in the antique shop down the road. I remember everything from our night of my brother’s wedding and how you talked about always feeling the need to rise and be better,” he said. “Nothing quite symbolizes that like a phoenix rising from the ashes. And of course, your love of tea made this the perfect gift.” He pulled the antique case from the box and set it down on the counter.
“There were always so many expectations of me growing up. I had two perfect parents, and they always expected more from me. I realize now that I expected just as much of myself and others. I think with age, they are realizing we’re perfect just as we are. I’m trying to realize that as well. I don’t want to be so uptight I’m unwilling to change. I want to keep on rising, but because I want to, not because I have anything to prove,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“We can break free together,” he told her, meaning every word.
He opened the lid to the box, and inside on a