“I look like an idiot.”

India looks up at me, absolute perfection as always. Her shining dark hair falls in a straight, shining sheet down her back, and she’s wearing a sneak peacoat over an outfit that can’t help but drive me wild. Everything she wears drives me wild, even after a year together. I can’t wait until the spring when we’ll finally be married, and I can tell everyone in the world that she’s my wife.

“You look great.”

I’m wearing a brand new pair of jeans and an honest-to-God sweater. India spent an hour picking it out, and I don’t hate it, it’s just weird as hell to be wearing something that screams out married man as a sweater.

I would have sneered at being married at age twenty. Now, standing next to India, I feel slightly uncomfortable in the damn sweater, but totally confident in the idea of marrying her.

She raises her hand and presses the doorbell, and the door swings open almost instantly, like they’ve been waiting inside.

“India!” cries her mother, pulling her in for a hug. “And Dawson!” She hugs me without hesitation. “We’re so glad you could make it up.”

“No snow yet,” I say with a dashing smile. “Sunny skies.”

“A damn green Christmas,” thunders India’s dad good-naturedly. Something relaxes in my shoulders and I didn’t even realize I was tense.

There are other people waiting inside—aunts and uncles, a few teenaged cousins, and they’re all happy to see India. The house smells like cookies and Christmas dinner—ham, probably, and mashed potatoes. There’s plenty of chatter, and I sit on the couch with India, my arm around her shoulder, fucking buzzing with a happy kind of deja vu, even though we’ve never spent a Christmas together before.

Not like this one.

Last year was hot, for fucking sure, but it was a hasty visit to her parents’, another hasty visit to my dad’s, stumbling over explanations and a story we hadn’t quite worked out yet.

This year feels…normal.

The doorbell rings again, and India’s mom leaps up from her seat next to the fireplace, her dad hurrying out for the kitchen, and they open the door wide to let my father and a couple of his friends in. My dad looks nervous, cheeks pink, smile wide, and my heart pinches in my chest. I’m the next person to shake his hand, to welcome him into the living room.

“Fancy,” he mutters to me under his breath, and I hear the question in his voice.

“They’re not like that.”

It’s true. India’s parents might have been a little higher on the social ladder than my dad, but they spend the entire afternoon making everyone feel right at home. It’s a far cry from those minutes I spend standing outside on the porch, trying to convince India that she was making a mistake.

I’ll never have to do that again.

After dinner, overstuffed with food, India pulls on her coat and whispers in my ear that she wants to walk around the block.

The night is cold and clear, glittering stars blanketing the sky, and I walk with her gloved hand in mine.

“That was good,” I say, and there’s not a trace of sarcasm. I’m all sincerity this Christmas.

“Yeah,” she says with a grin. “It was good. But I’m glad to be leaving on Sunday.”

It’s Friday.

“Why?”

“To get back to our bed.”

My cock gets hard at just the slightest suggestion.

“I can’t either.”

“Leaving” means heading back downstate, to the house we share there. India’s a rising star at her job, and there are bars to be started just about everywhere, so I hired a management team for this one and still make a good amount off of it.

It feels fucking great to be out of this town, to finally feel like I’m not trapped here anymore with the ghosts of rejections past.

“My mom’s over the moon,” she says, after we’ve gone another few paces, looking at the decorations in people’s yards.

“Yeah? Do you guys have wedding stuff planned for tomorrow?”

India rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling while she does it. “A full day. But you don’t have to be stuck with my dad, if you don’t want to be.”

“I won’t be.”

She laughs.

“My dad wants to take a trip to Johnsfield in the morning. Your dad can come, too, if he wants.”

It almost feels unnatural, this easy invitation, but it’s getting there. It’s definitely getting there.

We’re almost all the way around the block, a few houses down from India’s, and she slips her hand around my waist, stopping us in the middle of the sidewalk and pulling me close.

“Hey,” I say into her hair. “What’s up?”

“I just love you. I’m—I’m so glad I went to the store last Christmas Eve. It was worth the risk.”

“I almost agree with you. Except I’d like it if you never drove to the store again.”

“Same to you, buddy.”

We both laugh, and I hold her tight, then put a finger under her chin and raise her face to mine, kissing her deeply. When we finally break apart, her eyes are shining.

“You ready to go back in?”

“As long as I’m with you.”

“You’re too kind.”

“You’re too perfect.”

She squeezes my hand, and tugs me along with her. “Let’s remember that forever, okay?”

“Forever sounds great to me.”