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His mouth curves.

“And I promise,” I say, stepping closer, “to choose you every single day. Even when you’re grumpy. Even when you’re bossy. Even when you insist on pretending that you don’t enjoy having a six-foot inflatable Santa in your office.”

“Noelle.”

“And I promise to love you when we’re old and gray and Shiloh is grown and has a family of his own.”

His smile disappears. Not because he’s unhappy. Because I think that last one got him.

“I don’t want thirteen years with you, Maverick. I want all of them.”

He pulls me against him. And holds me. Just like he did last night when I cried beside the Christmas tree.

Only this time, I’m crying because I have everything I didn’t know I was looking for.

A home and a family to belong to. A man and a little boy who loves me.

And a future that stretches out in front of us. Together.

My phone buzzes in my pajama pocket. Then again.

Maverick sighs.

“Who is texting me on Christmas morning?” I pull it out.

An email notification fills the screen.

From Bryant Callahan.

Subject: REVISED MARITAL AGREEMENT — KANE

I look up at Maverick.

“That was fast,” he mutters.

I open the email.

There’s a brief message above the attachment.

Noelle,

For the record, I told him this would happen.

I’ve attached the document he requested. Although I feel obligated to point out that what he’s describing is generally referred to as wedding vows.

Congratulations.

—Bryant

I burst out laughing.

Maverick closes his eyes. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I absolutely am.”

I open the attachment.