A year and a half later…

“That was nice,” Nora says, putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.

“It was.” I wipe crumbs off the counter and toss the rag in the sink. “I’m glad you talked me into it.”

Nora smiles. “If I show you my boobs I can talk you into pretty much anything.”

I laugh and go to her, grabbing her by the waist. “That is true.”

She spins and hooks her arms around my neck. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

I shrug off the compliment and kiss her. The sun is starting to set, and the guys from my PTSD support group just left. After filling in a few times after Wyatt’s death, I was asked to be the new—and permanent—leader. I didn’t want to do it at first. Taking on the responsibly of helping others get through the dark seemed hypocritical when I still had moments when I couldn’t see the light.

Nora helped me realize that’s exactly why I should do it.

There is no cure for PTSD. There’s often not a reason a flashback hits, and no telling how intense it will be. The darkness circles you, pounces, and holds you down. But you don’t surrender. You get up and keep going because there is always light if you keep looking for it.

It was Nora’s idea to host a Christmas party. I wasn’t sure if I’d like it or not; I’m used to being around the guys, but not their family members who have to deal with the aftermath of the shit we’ve all been through. But as soon as everyone got here, I’m glad I listened to my wife. Sometimes she knows me better than I know myself.

“We have an hour before the second round of guests arrive,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Want to go upstairs?”

Nora shakes her head.

“Not feeling up to it?”

“Oh, I am.” She moves in, rubbing her hips against mine. “I just don’t want to go upstairs. We have a really nice fire going. It would be a shame not to have sex in front of it.”

I pick her up, and Nora laughs, protesting I put her down. She holds me tight as I spin her around, then rush into the living room, playfully throwing her on the couch. Nora reaches up and kisses me once, then gets up and grabs a faux fur throw from the couch, spreading it on the floor in front of the fireplace. Binx immediately comes over and lays down on it.

“Sorry, buddy.” I scoop up the fat cat and put him on the couch before sitting down with Nora. She rests her head against my shoulder and I wrap my arms around her, bringing her down with me. She cuddles up against me, head on my chest.

Her eyes are closed and I run my hand through her hair. Nora’s been tired lately, with good reason. The desire to have my hands all over her all the time never subsided, and I don’t think it even will, but if she wants to rest, then we will.

Then she opens her eyes, tipping her head up so her lips brush against mine. “Make me come, Jack.”

I move over top of her, gladly accepting her challenge.

* * *

“I can’t stop staring at it.” Nora runs her hands through her hair, trying to rid the evidence of just having sex, and stares up at the twelve-foot Christmas tree. “It’s so pretty. I think it’s going to win again.”

I toss another log on the fire and look around the house. The entire thing has been carefully decorated from the start, and Nora transformed it into a winter wonderland. This is our second Christmas in the house together, and it’s bound to be our best one yet.

We got married last December, surrounded by our closest friends and a fresh blanket of snow. We vowed the rest of our lives to each other under the twinkling stars and the soft glow of the moon off the mountains. It was perfect. Though marrying Nora anywhere would have been perfect.

Because any place is a good place if she’s there.

“It tops last year’s,” I tell her, standing behind her. I move her hair to the side and kiss the back of her neck. “Everything does. It’s perfect, babe.”

“Thanks. The house is perfect now.”

It took a while, but the large renovations are complete, including the addition we had put onto the cabin. We have a never-ending list of little projects to do to completely make this place our dream house, but even now, it’s perfect.

“And it got done not a moment too soon.” I put my lips to her neck again and rest my hands on her belly. She’s nine weeks along, and we’ve been waiting to announce the pregnancy until Christmas. Both of our parents and Veronica know, but they’ve been sworn to secrecy.

It’s our turn to host Christmas, and my dad’s family in Reno is coming up to the mountains. We’re having Christmas dinner at the cabin, and that’s when we’ll tell my grandparents they’ll be great-grandparents. Nora made ornaments with the baby’s first ultrasound picture, and she’s been dying to give them to everyone since the moment she made them.

The timer goes off on the oven, and Nora moves out of my arms to take out cookies. Our house is the last stop on the holiday house tour, and then the votes will be cast. Nora’s tree won last year, and the one she styled for Stephanie got second place. It’s hard not to like Nora, but I’m fairly certain she made quite a few enemies last holiday season.

Dale Hollow’s Christmas competitors show no mercy.

She comes back into the living room with a plateful of cookies.

“I know these are for our guests, but the baby wants cookies,” she says with a smile.

“You have to give the baby what she wants.”

We sit on the couch, and Nora props her feet up on the coffee table. Charlie comes over, resting his head on her lap and giving her his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Fine,” she says, breaking off a tiny piece of her sugar cookie for him. “That’s it though.”

Nora yawns and set the empty plate down, letting Charlie lick the crumbs. I put my arm around her shoulders and her head falls on my shoulder.

“Tired?”

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to bedtime already.”

Nora’s been dealing with extreme fatigue pretty much since conception. Her iron levels are low, and growing a person is a lot of work. No wonder she’s tired.

“Do you want to go upstairs and lay down? I’ll come get you when people start arriving.”

“That is tempting. I think I just need to get up and move around.”

She grabs her plate and takes it to the kitchen, putting it in the dishwasher. I stand in front of the floor to ceiling windows in the living room, watching snow fall. Nora joins me, and my arms go around her. It’s automatic when she’s near.

“It’s so pretty,” she whispers.

“It is.”

Christmas music softly plays from her phone in the kitchen, and I twirl her around to dance. Nora’s arms fasten around my neck. I move my hands to her waist, heart so full it could burst. We fell in love when we were just kids and standing here with my beautiful wife in my arms, I feel like a kid in love all over again.