One Month Later
Alina
“IT’S TIME, SWEETHEART,” Max crooned in my ear, patting my rear end when I refused to budge. It was way too early in the morning and all I wanted to do was snuggle into the comfy covers and drift back off to sleep. But Max had other plans. “Come on, Alina,” he whispered. “You have to get up now.”
“Humph,” I complained, trying to pull the covers up to my chin, but he grabbed them and yanked them away from me. “I just need another hour.”
“No can do. Now get up. Breakfast is almost ready, and the coffee is brewing.” He threw the covers off the bed completely, laughing as he walked out of our bedroom. I believe I heard him whistling some holiday song as he bounded down the steps.
Christmas morning had stopped being special when my mother died. The following year my father had gone away on a business trip leaving me with the nanny. I didn’t think he could handle the holiday without her, and I didn’t blame him. It was very hard on both of us. And ever since then, I’d never really celebrated. I’d go in on Secret Santa at the office, and Daria and I exchanged presents, but that was the extent of it.
Until today.
Max had regaled me with stories of how his family used to celebrate Christmas morning, taking turns to open gifts, one person at a time. It would take hours some years, but he said those had been his fondest memories. Hearing him speak about those times made my heart ache for my mother and the time we’d spent together, which simply hadn’t been enough.
“Alina!” Max shouted from downstairs. “Don’t make me come back up there, woman.” To ensure I wouldn’t fall back asleep, Christmas carols bolted through the in-wall speakers, the volume cranked up too much for me to ignore. “And make sure you wear the pajamas I set out for you.”
“Oh for the love of Pete.” Wiping the residual sleep from my eyes, I snatched the outfit from the top of the trunk at the end of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Once finished, I joined Max in the kitchen, the aroma of bacon and eggs instantly making my stomach grumble. “I need coffee.”
Before I could situate myself at the kitchen island, a hot cup of deliciousness was placed in front of me. “There you go. Please drink up because I would like to see the woman I love,” he teased, twirling the spatula in his hand before turning around to tend to the food on the stove.
“Very funny.” As I sipped from my mug, I watched Max, mesmerized. Whether he was reaching into the cupboard for plates or bending over to pick up a fork he’d dropped on the floor, watching him was one of my favorite things. His hair was sexily mussed, the stubble on his face making him look extra yummy. He was dressed in green and red flannel pajama bottoms, NICE written across the front of his T-shirt.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I replied. He handed me my plate before taking the seat next to me. “Let me ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“Why do you get the NICE shirt and I get the NAUGHTY one?” The pajamas he’d made me wear matched his. Same flannel bottoms with a graphic tee.
“Because you’re always tempting me, which is a very naughty thing to do.” He gave me a lopsided grin, the dimple in his cheek amping up his irresistibility. Sitting there with him enjoying a breakfast he’d made, on Christmas morning, was surreal. Before he’d come into my life, I never pictured such a scene, resigned to skipping over all the festivities during the holidays. Even when I’d been engaged to Chris, I hadn’t pictured us sharing Christmas morning together. But there was no place I’d rather be than with Max, creating new and wonderful memories. “Eat up before it gets cold.”
“I don’t accept your reasoning for the shirt, by the way,” I responded before I shoveled the eggs into my mouth. Closing my eyes, I let out a small moan as I savored my breakfast. He made the best damn eggs I’d ever tasted. They were scrambled, how I liked them, and the mix of salt and pepper was perfect. Whenever I cooked eggs, I somehow managed to dry them out, but his were out-of-this-world delicious.
“See?”
“See what?” I asked, munching on a piece of bacon.
“The shirt fits you.” I furrowed my brows. “You’re moaning, making me think of all sorts of dirty images.” He nodded. “It fits. You’re the naughty one.”
“Well, if you didn’t make such wonderful eggs, I wouldn’t make inappropriate noises.”
“I make them that way on purpose. I want to hear your appreciation. It gets my engine revved. In fact. . . .” He abruptly turned my chair, reached forward and put his hands on my backside, lifting me off the stool and placing me on top of the counter. At least he’d waited until I’d swallowed my food.
“What are you doing?” I gasped, holding on to his shoulders for stability. Big mistake. Every chorded muscle felt like pliable stone, the heat from his skin flaring my desire for him.
“I want to see if I can get you to moan for me again.” He leaned forward and nuzzled his nose into the crook of my neck, making me twitch in delight.
“What about the presents?”
“I’ll be quick.”
“Well, Merry Christmas to you too.” We both laughed and as he was about to kiss me, I heard a whimpering sound coming from the laundry room. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he lied, his untruth written all over his face.
“I know I heard something.” I tried to move him back, but he wouldn’t budge. “Max, let me down.”
He glanced in the direction of the noise before looking back at me. “Okay, but I’ll go see what’s going on. You stay here.”
Max helped me down before walking toward the room off the kitchen. “What is it?” I said impatiently, but he never answered. Instead, he reappeared carrying a large crumpled towel in his hands. “What are you carrying?” Another whimper sounded, and I moved closer. “Oh my God. You didn’t.” My eyes lit up, and I swore my facial muscles were going to start cramping soon if I didn’t stop smiling so big.
“I thought today would be the perfect day to introduce you to Stanley.” As he said the name, he unfolded the towel, and there in his hands was a tiny cream-colored dachshund puppy. He was beyond adorable. We’d talked about getting a dog together but had never made plans to actually do it.
“I love him already,” I cried, reaching out to snatch him from Max. As soon as the puppy was in my arms, he lathered my face with kisses, his little tail going a hundred miles an hour.
“Remember you said that when he messes in the house.”
“Oh, I don’t care. He’s so freaking cute. Aren’t you?” I asked Stanley, my voice reverting to one used specifically for all things tiny and cute. He whined, and I pulled him close so he could snuggle into me.
“I already had a name tag created for him. Check it out,” Max instructed, smiling as I fumbled with the puppy’s collar. He was squirming so much I had to put him on the counter, careful to hold him away from the ledge so he wouldn’t fall. Finally, my thumb and forefinger caught the silver metal plate, but when I turned it over, there were four words written on the tag, not just one.
Will you marry me?
I read it twice before it dawned on me what was happening. When I turned to face the man I loved, he was down on one knee, presenting me with a small, open black box. The ring inside was breathtaking, a large heart-shaped diamond in the middle surrounded by the same precious stone running down both sides of the platinum band.
“Alina, since the day I met you, you’ve changed my life. I’m so in love with your feistiness, your passion, and your huge heart. I can’t imagine letting another day pass without asking you to do me the honor of becoming my wife.” He blew out a nervous breath. “Will you marry me?”
I’d given up my dream of finding the right man, someone who could make my heart skip a beat simply by looking at me. A man who ignited my passion and who was not only my lover but my true friend. And then Max had entered my world and changed everything for me. He made me fight for what was important. To stand strong and be the woman I was meant to be. He made me a better person in every way possible. So, my answer was a no-brainer.
“Yes. Of course I’ll marry you,” I cried, tears suddenly dancing down my cheeks. Max rose to his full height, reached for my hand and placed the stunning ring on my finger.
“Do you see these stones on the sides of the band?” he asked, tucking an excited Stanley into the crook of his arm.
“Yes. They’re beautiful.”
“They’re from your mother’s ring,” he proclaimed, his eyes unexpectedly becoming glassy.
“What?” I asked, completely confused. “I don’t understand. How would you have had my mother’s ring?”
“Your father.” Max wiped away my still-falling tears. “When I asked for his permission, he told me he wanted me to include something of your mother’s with the ring I gave you.” I knew my father had held onto the ring he’d proposed to my mother with. He couldn’t bear to part with it, keeping it locked away safe and sound.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I beamed, wrapping my arms around his neck. “And I can’t believe you asked my dad, and that he said yes.”
“What can I say? I’m very loveable,” he joked, circling his free arm around me.
“You certainly are.”
THE END