CHRISTMAS (II)

RYAN

“Merry Christmas mouse” I replied. “On that note, it seems we’re on the same page about gifts.” I reached beneath the tree and retrieved a box wrapped in deep green paper.

Her face lit up like the Christmas tree behind her.

“I love surprises.” She took the box from me, shaking it gently. A faint rattling sound escaped. “What is it?”

Violet didn’t bother with my careful approach to wrapping paper. She tore through the metallic foil in seconds, revealing a sleek black box. Her hands paused for a moment, her expression flickering between curiosity and excitement as she opened the lid.

And then she froze.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her wide eyes met mine, filled with wonder. “Ryan…”

Nestled in the tissue paper was a vintage 1960s typewriter. It was pristine, every key polished to perfection, the design an ode to an era long past. I’d spent weeks hunting it down and paid a small fortune to have it restored. It was a rare find, one of the few remaining relics of its kind.

“You told me you keep deleting what you write,” I said, gesturing to the typewriter. “I figured this might help. No delete button on one of these.”

She traced her fingers across the keys, her touch reverent. Her voice wavered slightly when she spoke. “It’s beautiful. But Ryan, this is… too much. I got you an easel, for God’s sake. How is this anywhere close to equal?”

“It’s not supposed to be equal,” I said simply. “It’s a gift, Violet.”

Her eyes misted over, but she quickly blinked them away. “Do you really have…” She trailed off before shaking her head with a soft laugh. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

She leaned over and kissed me, her lips warm and soft against mine. “Thank you. Really. This means so much.”

“You’re welcome.” I cupped her face, deepening the kiss as a sense of calm settled over me.

It wasn’t just the kiss, or the warmth of her hands against my chest. It was this—being here with her, watching her smile, seeing her light up over something I’d chosen for her. It was the kind of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I almost forgot,” I said, nodding toward the box. “Check the sides. There’s more.”

Her brows lifted in surprise as she rustled through the tissue paper, eventually pulling out a slim, compact box. She opened it and stared at the small device inside.

“It’s a digital typewriter,” I explained. “More portable. You can carry it anywhere, and it saves everything automatically. I figured it might make things easier when you’re not at home.”

She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Why am I not surprised you thought of everything?” Her eyes sparkled as she squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Ryan. These are the best gifts I’ve ever received… 

Our gazes locked, a quiet exchange of emotions neither of us dared to put into words. In that stillness, there was something tangible—something that felt deeper than any fleeting touch or kiss.

We’ve had sex countless times in the last twenty-four hours, yet it was these small, unassuming moments that struck me the hardest.

A hand-drawn heart on wrapping paper.
The unspoken weight of a thoughtful gift.
The realization that this—her, here, now—felt like home.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the fragile tension, yanking us back to reality.

“They’re here,” Violet said, breaking into a soft giggle as she stood and made her way to the door, her lightness filling the room.

Of course they are.

Violet’s excitement spilled over as she opened the door, her warm laugh echoing down the hall. I stood back, watching her as Ashley and Kyle entered, arms laden with gifts and enough energy to rival hers.

“Finally!” Ashley exclaimed, her voice cheerful as she enveloped Violet in a tight hug. “We thought we’d never make it. Traffic was insane.”

“Tell me about it,” Kyle added, setting down a bottle of wine and a bag of wrapped presents on the entry table. He glanced at me with a nod of acknowledgment. “Merry Christmas, man.”

“Merry Christmas,” I replied, forcing a polite smile. While I didn’t mind Kyle, his overly familiar way with Violet always grated on my nerves. Still, I wasn’t about to start anything tonight.

Ashley clapped her hands together, her gaze darting around the room. “Wow, this place looks amazing! Did you do all this, Vi?”

Violet shrugged modestly, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “Ryan helped. Mostly with the heavy lifting, though.”

“Of course he did,” Ashley teased, nudging Violet with her elbow. “Who else is going to haul a seven-foot tree into the house?”

I smirked, grabbing a couple of glasses to pour drinks for our guests. “She’s stronger than she looks, you know.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Violet quipped, grinning. “I carried my weight.”

We settled into the living room, the air alive with conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. Violet leaned into me as the others talked, her hand resting lightly on my arm. It was such a small gesture, but it grounded me in the moment, reminding me that no matter how much I disliked sharing her time, I’d always be the one she came back to.

Ashley and Kyle were deep into an animated debate about Christmas movie rankings when Violet disappeared into the kitchen, humming some off-tune Christmas melody under her breath. I followed her a moment later, leaning against the doorframe as she rummaged through the pantry.

“Looking for something?” I asked, watching her tiptoe to reach the top shelf.

“Popcorn,” she replied, her voice muffled as she stood on her toes, trying—and failing—to grab the bag just out of reach. “Why do you keep putting it so high?”

“Maybe I like watching you struggle,” I teased, crossing the room to stand behind her. “Need a hand?”

She huffed, stepping aside. “You’re impossible.”

I grabbed the bag with ease, holding it out to her, but just as she reached for it, I pulled it back. “Say please.”

Her jaw dropped, and she shot me an incredulous look. “Ryan.”

“Magic word,” I sang, smirking.

“Ugh, fine.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please, oh great and mighty popcorn keeper, grant me the privilege of having my snack.”

I chuckled, handing her the bag. “Was that so hard?”

She turned to the microwave, muttering under her breath. “One day, I’m going to hide something you love and make you beg for it.”

“Oh, yeah?” I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a murmur. “Like what?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” I shot back, grabbing a handful of marshmallows from the counter. Before she could retaliate, Ashley’s voice carried from the living room.

“What’s taking you two so long? Did you get lost in there or something?”

Violet groaned, grabbing the freshly popped bag from the microwave. “We’re coming!”

“About time,” I called back, smirking as Violet shoved the bag into my hands and stormed past me.

“Don’t push your luck, Jenkins,” she said, though her smile betrayed her annoyance.

\---

Back in the living room, Ashley and Kyle were sprawled out on the couch, flipping through Netflix options.

“Finally,” Ashley said with exaggerated relief. “We thought we were going to have to send a search party.”

“Sorry,” Violet said, plopping onto the couch beside her. “Somebody was busy being annoying.”

Kyle smirked, raising a brow. “That’s his default setting, isn’t it?”

“Hey!” I said, setting the popcorn on the table. “I’m sitting right here.”

Ashley ignored me, clapping her hands together. “Alright, movie time! What’s it gonna be—rom-com, action, or something festive?”

“Not a rom-com,” Kyle groaned, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “Please.”

Ashley shot him a glare. “Fine. But if we’re watching Die Hard, you’re making the cocoa.”

“Deal,” Kyle replied, grabbing the remote.

“Die Hard isn’t even a Christmas movie,” Violet muttered under her breath, earning a chorus of gasps from everyone else in the room.

“It absolutely is!” Ashley exclaimed. “Take it back, Violet.”

“Never!” she declared, tossing a popcorn kernel in Ashley’s direction.

And just like that, the teasing started all over again, filling the room with laughter, playful banter, and the kind of warmth that only came during the holidays.