Denny
I open the door, taking a deep breath as I step inside the house. As usual, Robin's been baking; I smell cranberries, oranges, and the spices that go in mulled wine. I slip off all my winterwear and pad through the living room, thinking that I'll find her in the kitchen. Instead, I see her standing in front of the Christmas tree, her back facing me and her arms crossed over her chest.
She turns when she hears me approach, and I stop in my tracks when I realize that she's crying.
She bites her lip and turns away from me again, bowing her head. I know she feels guilty when she cries in front of me. She told me once that she wants my life to be happy because I've been through so much, and that she doesn't want to burden me with her problems.
But I love her, and I want her to be happy too.
I set the gift bag I'm holding on the coffee table and walk over to her, pulling her into my arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I ask tenderly, smoothing a lock of her light brown hair over her ear. She looks up at me, her big hazel eyes full of tears. Instead of saying anything, she just buries her face in my chest and sobs.
I hold her tightly, pressing my lips to her forehead comfortingly. "Shh, shh," I murmur. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. I'm here." She's warm and soft against me, and I begin rubbing her back gently, trying to get her to stop trembling. After a few minutes, she becomes very still; finally, she moves her hands so they're framing my face and peeks up at me.
"I'm sorry," she apologizes quietly, and I shake my head, looping my arms around her shoulders and brushing my nose lightly against hers.
"You don't have to apologize, Robin," I assure her. "Just tell me what I can do to make it better."
She glances at the Christmas tree and hesitantly points out, "We don't have any ornaments."
I look at the tree. It's glistening with silver tinsel and the colored lights I put on it, but she's right. We don't have any ornaments.
"We can get as many ornaments as you want," I tell her. I know there must be more to the story, so I'm not sure it's the right thing to say.
She sighs. "It's not about how many there are," she admits. "They should be special."
"Special how?" I wonder patiently. She slips out of my embrace and takes my hands, leading me to the couch. I sit down and pull her into my lap, cradling her head against my shoulder. She puts her arms around my neck.
"My mother used to give me a Christmas ornament every year," she reveals. I turn my head so I can gaze down at her. We've talked about almost everything, but she's always skirted the topic of her family. I've never pressed her; there are things I haven't told her about my family as well. I'd assumed that something bad had happened to hers and she didn't want to talk about it.
"Each ornament meant something," she continues. "It was a tradition I liked. I thought about doing it for myself the past few years, but it seemed pointless since I was alone. Now that we're together, I want to start doing it again."
"I'd like that," I reply, glancing at the bag I brought home with me. She doesn't know what's in it yet. "What about the ornaments your mother gave you? Should we put those on the tree?"
She stands, wringing her hands and pacing back and forth. "I don't have them anymore," she confesses quietly. I get up and go to her, letting my hand rest on the small of her back, intertwining my fingers with hers and lifting them to my lips.
"Tell me what happened, Robin. Please."
She turns and looks at me, clearly distressed. I nuzzle her face gently, gratified when I see her smile because of the gesture. "There's nothing you could tell me that would make me love you less," I inform her.
"I know that, Denny." She turns back to the tree and kneels down beside a stack of plastic boxes. I step closer, studying them, and notice that each one is separated into compartments.
"What are these?" I kneel down beside her.
"Ornament boxes," she answers quietly. I run my hand over the top box.
"There's enough for hundreds of ornaments here," I comment, and she nods.
"One ornament for each of us every year, and for... any others," she responds, her face flushing deeply.
I beam at her even though she's not looking at me.
I haven't told her that I want everything with her.
I want her to walk down an aisle toward me wearing a stunning white dress.
I want to fill this house with our babies.
I just want her. For the rest of my life. And I hope it's a long one.
I think she knows. I think she feels the same way.
I really should tell her.
"This is how long I want us to be together." She places her palms on top of the ornament boxes. "Long enough to fill these boxes."
I pull her into my side, resting my chin on the top of her head. "It will take the rest of our lives," I observe nonchalantly. She nods.
"That's why you should know that I don't talk to my family, Denny. They... hurt me. Not physically. Emotionally. Mentally. It took me a long time to realize it, and even longer to stop giving them chances. I don't have those ornaments because I didn't want them. All they did was remind me of everything I'd rather forget."
She falls silent, clearly on the verge of tears again.
For a moment, I don't know what to say. Is there anything I can say? I just want to make her pain go away.
I grab the bag I brought home off of the table. "I got this for you while I was out." I hand it to her. "To commemorate our first Christmas together."
She looks at me curiously, reaching into the sparkly green bag and pushing aside the gold tissue paper. When she pulls out the gift, her eyes widen in surprise.
I smile at her. "I thought you'd like it," I declare bashfully, dipping my head.
"Oh, Denny... I love it," she confirms, holding it delicately in her hands.
The ornament is a house decorated for Christmas. It's white and red and green, with holly and ornaments on the eaves and a Christmas tree in the front yard. I thought it was appropriate for our first Christmas together in our new home.
I reach out, stroking her cheekbone. "I'm sorry you were hurt, Robin. I wish I had been there to comfort you." I take a deep breath and lean forward, gathering her into my arms and lifting her gently into my lap. "I'm here now, and I will never hurt you. I promise. I love you."
She looks up at me. Her eyes are full of hope. "I love you, Denny." I stand up, bringing her with me, and turn her toward the tree.
"Let's put our first ornament up," I suggest. I reach out and touch a branch. "How about right here?" She nods happily, slipping the little house onto the tree and adjusting it until it hangs perfectly. I hold her tightly, pressing my lips to her cheek.
She turns so our mouths are touching instead. I kiss her softly, speaking quietly against her lips. "I'll buy you a million ornaments if it will make you happy, Robin."
She twines her arms around my neck and holds onto me tightly. "I don't need a million ornaments if I have you, Denny."
I lift her up off of the floor so we're face-to-face and press our mouths together again. "You'll always have me. Always."
Her smile is brighter than the Christmas tree.
After I got sick, I stopped believing in happily ever after. When I saw her for the first time, I found that belief again.
Now I'm living happily ever after every single day.
