“Who invented eggnog?” Jamie scrunches up her nose as she hands me a glass of the stuff, and I take a small sniff before setting it down on a coaster on the side table next to the couch.

“I tried to make it better by dusting some fresh nutmeg and cinnamon on it,” Jess says, padding over to me and perching on the corner of my knee, wrapping both arms tight around my neck.

It’s snowing outside, and tonight we’re staying in for New Year’s.

“Jamie,” I say, “I don’t want to be rude. Let me try the eggnog.” I press the glass to my lips. It’s ice cold and too thick, and it’s not my first choice, but I try to like it. “Mmm,” I say. I’m not trying to be sarcastic, but that’s how it comes out.

“You’re not offending me,” Jamie says, curling up on the couch across from me and Jess. “It’s not like I made it. I didn’t go out and milk the cow and, I don’t know...how is eggnog made, anyway?”

“Maybe,” Jess says, getting up and walking over to the china cabinet housing the Murphys’ collection of white bone china, wine glasses and a few liquor bottles, “it would be better if we stuck a little rum in it.”

“Ohh!” Jamie’s eyes light up as she grabs her glass from the coffee table and wags it at her sister. “I’ll take some!”

Jess unscrews the bottle and drops a bit of the rum into Jamie’s glass.

“What about you, Chris?”

“Nah,” I say, taking another sip. “None for me. I actually have something important I wanted to talk to you about. And I want to be crystal clear for it.”

Paul comes in wearing an ugly Christmas sweater picturing a reindeer with a red pompom for its nose. “I’ll have some rum,” he says, taking a seat at the counter between the living room and kitchen.

Jess goes to the kitchen and ladles another cup of eggnog for Paul, adding a shot of rum to the glass, stirring it with a long spoon, and shaving some fresh nutmeg on top.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to culinary school instead of vet school? Maybe you can work in the bakery with Kaitlyn,” I say, observing how much care Jess puts into everything.

“Who knows,” Jess says, shrugging and placing her brother’s drink down on a red and white striped cocktail napkin on the counter in front of him. “Anything could happen. I’m young. We all are.”

Jess sits back down next to me and looks up. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Um, your parents are home, right?” I say, taking my wool beanie off and pushing my hair back.

“Yeah,” Paul says, taking a sip of his drink. “I think Dad is in the basement grabbing some laundry and Mom is upstairs. They’re going to some party tonight.”

“Would you…just hold on a second.” I put a finger in the air and get up to go over to the staircase out in the hallway. There’s two sets of stairs here, one flight up and one flight down. “Mr. and Mrs. Murphy?” I call out, attempting to catch both of them simultaneously. I look down at the floor, away from the three siblings - my best friends - sitting in the other room.

The box in my pocket is burning a hole there. I need to get it out. I need to present it to Jess, and I need her family to be here.

“Hey, Chris.” Mr. Murphy appears from the basement with a basket of laundry. Sheets, towels. The pink blanket I used the other day is there. I want to grab it and tell him I’m bringing it home with me. Or even better, I’m setting up a permanent sleeping area for myself in his living room and I need that pink blanket.

“Here, let me grab that.” I take the basket from Jess’ old man and move into the kitchen, setting it down on the table.

“Thanks,” he says, patting me on the back. “What’d you need me for?”

I look over at Jess. Her blue eyes are wide, her delicate face framed by a few tendrils falling out of the messy bun high atop her head.

“Yeah, Chris? What’s going on?”

Mrs. Murphy comes down the stairs in a chic black blouse and black slacks as we all gather in the living room.

“Jess,” I say, my heart absolutely fucking pounding in my chest. “First of all, I want to thank you for taking me in these past few days and making me feel so welcomed. You guys have been like a surrogate family for me.”

“Man,” Paul says, crossing the room and putting his hands on my shoulders. “You are family.”

I clear my throat nervously. “I know. In a sense. And by the way, my dad said thank you again for having him over.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Murphy says. “We want to see more of him.”

“He happened to text me today,” Mr. Murphy offers. “He’s coming to the party we’re going to tonight.”

“Hey, how come I wasn’t invited?” Jamie mockingly grumbles, crossing her arms and kneading her brows together.

“It’s for old people, Jame. But if you really want to come, you certainly are welcome,” Mr. Murphy says.

“Well, now you’ve sold me,” she says, crossing her legs and shrugging her shoulders.

Jess gets up and crosses the room toward me. “Everyone be quiet for a second. Chris had something he wanted to talk to us about.” Her eyes are bigger and brighter than ever, rivaled only by the moon. “What is it?”

“Here’s the thing. Yes, I know that I’m like family.” I take a step toward her, dividing the distance between us. “But that’s not good enough.”

I take the bag from Kaitlyn’s out of my back pocket and hand it to Jess. I don’t drop to one knee. Not yet.

“A year ago, I let you get away from me because I thought you wanted more than I could give you. I was in a bad place. And it took having you back for me to realize that there’s nothing I can’t give you. There’s nothing I won’t give you.”

Her lower lip drops a little as she looks at the bag in her hands. Her eyes move up slowly and meet mine. “Chris, it’s what I’ve always wanted. Cookies from Kaitlyn’s?” Her lips perk up into a knowing smile.

“See what’s inside.” As my girl peeks inside the crinkled paper bag, I wipe my palms against my jeans and slowly get down to one knee. “Jess, please tell me you’ll be mine forever. And let me be yours. I love you. I always have. I’m just sorry I let you go once before. I won’t let that happen again.”

She pulls the small blue velvet ring box out of the bag and stands there with her mouth open.

I take the box from her and open it. Inside, I’ve placed the ring my grandfather - my dad’s dad - gave my grandmother on Christmas Eve so many years ago. My dad was holding it for me to give to the girl I’d marry. When he found out it was Jess, he was overjoyed. He even texted Jess’ dad after I asked for his permission earlier today because he was so excited.

It’s a vintage Tiffany ring. The signature blue box was lost long ago, but I don’t care. It’s what’s inside that counts.

Jess says nothing. I take the ring out of the box and hold it up between us. She blinks tears away as they fall down her cheeks and puts her hand out, nodding.

“Now you’re really my family.” I get up and wrap my arms around her body. Her arms squeeze tight around my back and still she says nothing. I feel her body heave in mine as she wipes her eyes against my shirt.

“Yes,” she finally says, sniffling against me. “Yes. Yes.”

Over and over my heart sings, beating against me. I can feel hers, too. And they eyes of her family around us only sweeten her word.

Yes.

“I’m not letting you go again either, Chris.” She looks up at me with her piercing blue eyes, the lights from the tree beside us flickering like fire in them. But now there’s no storm inside. Now there’s only blue skies and a clear road.

“Thank you for the past few days, Jess.”

“Thank you,” she says, “for tomorrow.”

It’s not quite over yet. Flip the page for a preview of my upcoming book, Mr. December!