. . These were her old shoes. “I’m always wearing them because it’s all I have. I . . . think these were mine.”
“The ones you sold?” Caleb looked crestfallen. “I had no idea.”
The giggles wouldn’t stop coming. She kept laughing, clutching the present to her chest. He thought she loved the expensive shoes so much that she chose to wear them exclusively? They pinched her feet and were incredibly impractical for a schoolteacher. But she wore them because it meant one less thing to have to buy at the store. Here she’d sold off most of her high-end shoes . . . and he’d bought some back for her. It was so funny to her, though, that Caleb genuinely thought she loved high heels, so she laughed and laughed, until he began to laugh with her.
“I’m officially the worst boyfriend ever, aren’t I?” He gave her a rueful smile. “Giving you back a pair of shoes you sold?”
That sobered her up. “You’re the best. Don’t ever believe otherwise.” She clutched the shoebox to her chest tighter. “I love it, because it was thoughtful. Thank you, Caleb.”
“That’s not the only thing I got you—thank goodness.” He pulled out a small envelope from the tree skirt and held it out to her.
“My letter?” Her eyes lit up.
“Actually . . . no.” Caleb raked a hand through his messy hair. “It’s not a letter because I was too rattled after our breakup to write one. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have done it. I thought I was doing the right thing for both of us, but I overreacted.”
He shrugged and reached for her hand, pulling it to his lap. “We’re together now. That’s all that matters.”
They were. Amy smiled at him, then opened the envelope. Even before she could pull out the piece of paper and read it, he was explaining.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he began.
“It looks like a gym membership.” She arched an eyebrow at him.
He rubbed his hand down his face, awkward. “I promise it’s not. I just know you were talking about how it was hard for you to make friends here because you felt like an outsider, and I know you live alone, and while I want to be at your side every day, I also don’t want you to feel like I have to be. So I got you a gift certificate to join the self-defense classes they have at the gym. They’re on Wednesday nights, and Becca said she was signing up, so I figured you’d know someone.”
He got her classes so she could make friends and protect herself? Her eyes grew misty and she clutched the paper to her chest. “Oh Caleb. I love it.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I should have gotten jewelry after all.”
“God no,” she breathed. “These are honestly the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received. I don’t want jewelry. I want someone to think about me . . . and you did. I love them both, and I love you.” In a strange way, she loved that he gave her high heels, because it meant he paid attention to her.
That was everything.
He gave her a sheepish smile and leaned in. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
She kissed him, putting her heart and soul into the kiss, and when they pulled away, she couldn’t stop smiling. Self-defense classes. What a clever, thoughtful thing. It was perfect. She folded the certificate up and tucked it under her leg. “Open yours?”
Caleb unwrapped his presents, exclaiming over each of the books and handling them with careful, reverent fingers. She could see the pleasure on his face, and his grin grew even wider when he unwrapped the bookends. “This is all perfect. Thank you so much.”
It really was a superb Christmas.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The day after Christmas, Caleb sat in his truck and tried to be patient. He was in the parking lot across from Painted Barrel’s little bank. Amy had gone in alone—insisted on it—to talk to them about getting a loan for the apartment she wanted to move into. He’d floated the idea of her moving in with him, but even before he’d suggested it, he knew she wouldn’t take him up on it. She’d refused, politely. It didn’t hurt his feelings. He understood that Amy needed her own place for a while. She needed to feel comfortable with having her own space before she could share his.
And Caleb was content to wait.
At least, when it came to that. Waiting for