We put up the tree on Christmas Eve, which was a tradition of Baker’s. Although there weren’t any gifts under it when we went to bed, I enjoyed decorating it immensely, and hanging the lights together was a memorable experience. Spending the night with him – and waking up at his side Christmas morning – was going to be gift enough.

We woke the next morning, and showered together. Eager to give him the gifts I’d bought, I begged him to go into the living room and look under the tree. After he’d fallen asleep, I got up and placed his presents under the tree, and I was giddy to have him see them.

Hand in hand, we walked into the room. Much to my surprise, the tree was surrounded by gifts.

“Oh wow,” I gasped.

“Looks like Santa Claus was bored.” He turned toward the kitchen, “Let’s make a pot of coffee.”

I wanted to rush to the tree and see what, if anything, was mine. Heck, for all I knew, the gifts were for – or from – his five brothers.

A few minutes later, coffee in hand, we sat beside each other, cross-legged on the floor. He handed out the gifts, and I ended up with four and him three.

I never viewed the amount of the gifts as important. One gift, if selected with love, was plenty. I pointed to a two-foot square box that sat at his side. “That one first, please.”

He agreed, and opened it. Inside, the gift itself was wrapped in another paper. He picked up the thin package and smiled. “I wonder what this is.”

After unwrapping it, he clutched it to his chest and laughed. “Don’t have this one.”

“Well, you do now.”

It was Amos Lee’s Supply and Demand, on vinyl. It wasn’t an easy record to locate, but eventually I found it. I looked at The Wind as our song, and I suspected I always would.

He pointed to a small box. “That one.”

I picked it up the eighteen-inch-long box and shook it.

“Be careful,” he said.

Carefully, I took the tape from the paper, peeled the paper away, and looked at the top of the box.

My heart raced at the familiar sight of the manufacturer’s label, written in cursive on the top of the box.

“Is it?”

He shrugged. “Open it.”

I lifted the edge of the top and peered inside. Upon seeing the shoes, I flipped the top to the side and pulled them out.

“A pair of Louboutin’s,” I said. “I’m in love.”

I stood up and slipped the shoes on my feet.

He looked at them and smiled. “Fit?”

“Perfect,” I said.

The black heels with the signature red bottoms were a staple in the closets of the rich and famous. They weren’t anything I could ever afford, but I’d surely wear them on special occasions.

Giddy, I sat down and admired them.

He cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

I looked up. “Oh. The big red one.”

He pulled off the bow, peeled off the paper, and opened the box. Immediately, he laughed out loud. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I love it when you wear hats.”

Carefully, he removed the felt porkpie, and lifted it to his head. The black hat looked sexy on his head, and gave him a distinguished look.

“I like it.”

He tipped it toward me. “As do I.”

He pointed to a little blue box. “I think that one next. This is going to be weird in a minute.”

“Why?”

“Just open it.”

After carefully unwrapping the three-inch square box, I peeled back the top. Inside, a key to his car.

“My own key?” I asked, lifting it from the box. “In case I want to go racing?”

“You own car,” he said. “There’s another one on there, too. It’s a key to this house.”

My heart went aflutter. “It says Por-Shah,” I said, pronouncing it the way he had when we met. “Are you serious?”

“It’s not just like mine, but it’s close.”

“It’s mine?”

“Registration and title are in the bedroom. It’s yours.”

“Holy crap. Oh. My God. I have a car.” I jumped to my feet. “When can I see it?”

He smiled. “In a few minutes. When we’re done.”

I kissed him and sat. I pointing to his last box. “Last one.”

He opened it and lifted the book from the box and read the cover. “Thug Kitchen: Eat Like You Give a Fuck”

“It sounded perfect for you. You can learn to cook, now.”

He opened the book and flipped through the pages. “Thank you.”

He pointed to a large box. “That one now, and then the other.”

I opened the bigger of the two boxes, and laughed out loud when I saw what was inside. No differently than the album I’d wrapped for him, a thin square sat inside the box, wrapped in a different paper.

Eager to see what he’d chosen, I unwrapped it.

My heart swelled. “We can keep one for when we get old.”

It was a copy of Amos Lee’s Supply and Demand. It was affirmation that great minds think alike.

He gestured to the last box and stood. “Open it.”

Carefully, I opened it. And then, I opened the one inside of it. And then, another. After the fourth box was opened, I looked inside. The air shot from my lungs. Eager with anticipation, but uncertain of what was inside, I opened the felt box.

I nearly fainted. The biggest round diamond I’d ever seen was fitted to a white gold band. On each side of the band, diamonds were inset along the edges. I stared at in awe, and tried to hold the box steady.

“I want to say something.” He walked in front of me and reached for my hand.

Teary-eyed, I stood.

“I want that to be my commitment to you,” he said with a shaky voice. “I don’t know how to do this.” He paused, raked his fingers through his hair, and looked me in the eyes. “I love you, Andy. I truly do. That’s not an engagement ring, and this isn’t a proposal. I guess you can call it a promise ring. Me giving it to you is my promise that if you come home at night, I’ll be here loving you, and you alone. For as long as you choose to wear it, I’ll never leave you. Ever. This can last forever if you let it. It’s the best I can do.”

He lifted the ring from the box, slipped it on my finger, and gave me a kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

And, at that moment, on Christmas morning, our forever began.