“Oh, Filson,” she says, biting back tears as I press on.
“I love you,” I tell her. “I love the way you drink your tea and the way you like to fight. I love how stubborn you are and the way you go all in. I love the way you believed in me before I believed in myself. I love you and I need you to be my wife.”
I open the jewelry box as tears fall down her face.
“I love you too,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. “I love you so much. And of course, I'll be your wife. I want to be anything you need. I just don't want to be apart from you.”
She doesn't take the ring. Instead, she leaps into my arms and I laugh, falling backward on the floor. She climbs on top of me and gives me a kiss.
“I love you. I love you. I love you like crazy.”
“And I’m goddamn crazy for you.”
She looks down at me and I laugh, wondering how the fuck I got so damn lucky.
“Take the ring, baby,” I say, taking it from the box and placing it on her finger. “So, that was the errand I was running. I couldn't exactly tell you I was planning to propose, could I?”
“I suppose not,” she says with a laugh. “Oh, Filson, I can't believe this. It's all I've ever wanted.”
“Not all you've ever wanted though, is it?” I ask, running a hand over my beard. She crawls out of my lap and we sit on the floor facing each other.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“Well, you wanted this house too, didn't you?”
She nods. “Let's not talk about it. It's too heartbreaking. Besides, I sold it. I sold the house. Someone offered cash, 10 percent above asking price and I signed my name and all the papers yesterday.”
“You did,” I say. It's not a question.
“I did.”
“I know, Maple.”
“How did you know?” she asks, her brows furrowing.
I take my fiancée’s hands. “Should I be upset that you didn’t tell me yesterday morning even though you knew?”
“I didn't know how to say it,” she admits.
“I thought we've been down this road, Maple. You can tell me anything.”
“I know but I just wanted us to have Christmas.”
“Well, we're having Christmas and we're also talking about the sale of your house. You can have the good and the bad. Not only one or the other.”
“I’m beginning to understand that, thanks to you,” she says. “But yes, I did sign my name on the dotted line and sold the house.”
“Yeah, I know. I saw your signature.”
“How?” she asks.
I pull out my phone and pull up an email document. “Because, Maple St. Claire, I'm the one who bought it.”
She gasps and shock is written on her face as she takes my phone. “Filson Barre, you crazy-ass fool. You really did this for me?” She sets the phone down, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“No. I did this for us.” I kiss her again and this time I feel a new outpouring of love from her; overwhelming me with warmth.
“This is too much. How did you even do it?”
“I had money saved. I was planning on building a shopping center, but I figured this purchase is a lot better than that. I didn't need an inspection because I made sure this house was in tip-top shape from bottom to top.”
“You did, didn't you?” She looks up at me, amazed.
“I’m one lucky grinch.”
“I would have been more than happy to move to your cabin in the woods.”
“Oh, we'll keep the cabin, but we'll be living here. We need the space. After all, I plan on knocking you up. Our kids will need to be able to get to the elementary school.”
“Wow. Already planning for our future?”
I shoot her a disbelieving look. “Are you not?”
“Oh, I'm planning for it. I just want you to know I don't care where we live.”
“I love this house,” I tell her. “My best memories took place here.”
“I'm beginning to learn that home isn't where you sleep at night,” she tells me. “Home is where the beard is.”
I chuckle. “Oh, girl, you're trouble.”
“I'm your trouble now.” She draws me up the stairs. “Come on. We've got work to do.”
“Do we now?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
“Yes,” she says, stepping out of her heels and lifting the hem of her skirt. “You said you wanted me to knock me up. Well, why shouldn't we get started? Give me another Christmas present, Filson Barre.”
I picked her up by the waist and carry her upstairs. “You realize marrying me means your name will be Maple Barre?”
She smiles as I kick open her bedroom door. “I know, I’ve dreamed of you saying those two words together all my life.”
“You taste much better than a donut,” I tease her as I set her down on the bed.
“Come closer, my mountain man. Why don’t you double-check?”
I growl in her ear. “Baby, I’ll lick your frosting all day if that’s what you’re asking.”
Epilogue One
Filson
One Year Later…
It's been one year since I got down on one knee and proposed to the woman I've loved since I was six years old. She's more beautiful than ever, glowing as twilight filters through the window.
Maple is more than a wife. She's about to become the mother of our child. I step toward her, running my hand over her swollen belly, and all I can think is: how the hell did I get so damn lucky?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks with a smile, eyelashes fluttering. Outside the nursery window, the snow falls and Christmas Eve magic is in the air. Magic is everywhere.
“I'm just so damn happy,” I tell her, cupping her cheek with my callused hand. I’ve been doing construction work the past year and put in extra hours to make sure I could take time off when our baby is born.
“Me too, Filson. I'm just so excited and so ready for this. It's like everything we've waited for, everything we've ever wanted, is finally here.”
“Almost feels too good to be true, doesn't it?” We turn and look around the nursery, our eyes lingering on the crib I built with my own two hands. The quilt Maple sewed painstakingly piece by piece with patches of my old flannel work shirts.
“I know a lot of people don't like finding out whether or not they're going to have a boy or a girl, but I'm glad we did,” she says her hands running along the dark wood-stained crib. “It makes me less anxious.”
“Good. I don't want you to be anxious, especially when we could be having this baby any week now.”
“Any day now,” she says with a laugh, running her hand back over her belly. “God, aren't you excited?”
“I am,” I tell her, leaning in for another kiss. “What should we name him?”
It's a conversation we've had a hundred times over the last nine months. We got married in the spring and Maple was already pregnant. She was glowing then the same way she glows now.