“This place is gorgeous,” Layla says when we get back down to the living room. “Are you thinking about moving here?”
She has her back to me, so I don’t answer. That way, she’ll turn around. While I wait, I drop onto one knee and pull out the ring I purchased. Bailey thinks I should’ve taken one step at a time—either propose or ask her to move in—but here’s the thing: I want it all. Every-fucking-thing. And I want it with her.
The second she turns around and sees where I am and what I’m holding, she gasps, her hands going to her mouth. “Camden… what are you doing?”
“Hopefully, I’m moving in here with you… as my fiancée. I mean, if you don’t like this place, we can find somewhere else—”
Before I can finish my speech, she runs toward me, wraps her arms around my neck, and pulls me up, yelling, “Yes,” over and over again. “I want to marry you and live here with you. Yes!”
I kiss her and then take her hand in mine, so I can slide the engagement ring onto her finger.
“I love it,” she says, admiring the ring with happy eyes. “And I love you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LAYLA
“Do you think I’ll get the sled I want?” Felix asks, setting the cookies out for Santa.
“Maybe,” I say noncommittally.
“What about the bike?” he asks, placing two carrots on the plate for the reindeer.
“I’m not sure,” I say this time.
“What about the Legos? Do you think I’ll get them?” Felix asks. “I think I’ve been good this year.”
“You’ll have to wait until Santa comes to find out,” I tell him, ruffling his hair.
It’s Christmas Eve, and we’ve just gotten back from Camden’s parents’ house, where we had dinner and watched The Grinch, a tradition that’s been part of their family for several generations. Camden brought us home and is here for the Christmas story—at Felix’s request—but will leave afterward, coming back in the morning for presents. We’ve decided to wait and not sleep under the same roof with Felix until we’re married and move into the new house. It seems a bit traditional, but Felix has been through a lot, and I want him to have stability. We discussed us getting married and moving in with him, and he’s as on board as a four-and-a-half-year-old can be.
“I’ve been good, right?” Felix says, helping me pour the milk in the glass. “I’m not a brat, right?” A sharp pain slices through my heart at his question, at his insecurity because of his father, and my eyes flit to Camden, whose jaw is now clenched tightly.
“You most definitely are not a brat,” I tell him, kneeling in front of him so I can look him in the eyes, “and your dad never should’ve said that to you. He was mad that day but not at you. You are a smart, sweet, amazing little boy.”
“I’m not so little.” His brow dips as he shakes his head. “I’m big enough for a sled, right?”
“Yeah,” I choke out, a bout of emotion hitting me hard over how much I love my son and how quickly he’s growing up. In August, he’ll be starting kindergarten. Sure, he’s in preschool part-time now, but kindergarten feels so…official.
“You’re definitely big enough for a sled,” Camden adds, ruffling his hair. “And when Santa brings you one, we’re going to take it to Big Bear Mountain and ride it up and down the hill a million times.”
Felix’s face splits into a grin. “I can’t wait!”
“Felix,” I add, “please remember that Santa has to bring presents to a lot of kids, so even though you asked for a lot of toys, that doesn’t mean you’ll get them all, but that’s not because you weren’t good. It just means he needs toys for other kids too.”
Felix nods in understanding.
After I read him a Christmas story, I tuck him in and kiss him good night. He goes right to sleep since he knows Santa only comes when the kids are asleep.
“I can’t wait to see Felix open his presents from Santa,” Camden says, walking me to the door. “I’m not even getting shit from Santa, and I’m excited.” Since my vehicle is small, Camden went Christmas shopping with me, and we used his SUV to bring home the sled I bought for Felix. His list was long, and I couldn’t afford all of it—and I refused to let Camden pay for the rest—but he got enough to know he’s been good, and he’s not a brat like his dad said.
“I’ll call you when he wakes up,” I tell him with a laugh, loving that he’s excited and wants to be part of Felix’s Christmas. “It’ll be early, so get some sleep.”
“Can’t wait.”
A couple of hours later, all the presents are set out under the tree. I send a picture to Camden with a cheesy sticker that makes it look like Santa is in the picture, with a caption that reads: You’ve been replaced by a jolly old man in a red suit.