“I know.”
“I know.” She repeated back. “And my heart will always have space for you.”
“Mine too.”
“Good.” Val pressed another soft kiss to my mouth and whispered, “Now, let’s celebrate.”
“However will we do that?” I joked.
She impaled herself on me.
“Shit.” I coughed out. “So violent.”
“So good.” She laughed. “Now let me love you.”
“Done.” I took a deep breath as she rid me slowly. “Done. For you. Always done.”
“Two twirls.”
“Two twirls,” I repeated as I always did every Christmas, not as a reminder of Andi, but as a reminder of life, of living, of loving.
Of us.
Because every Christmas should include—not one but two twirls.