Kissmas Wishes (Love In All Seasons 3)

“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 OneFilsonOne 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.

“There are so many names I like, but it's hard to choose.”

I take her hand and lead her from the bedroom. “Can you believe it's Christmas Eve?” I ask. “What do you think your Christmas gift will be?”

We walk down the hardwood stairs into the living room. The fire is blazing, and stockings are hung, hers and mine, and a little stocking in blue for the baby-to-be.

“I don't want anything other than this… you and me, together,” she says. “I just want to enjoy these last few weeks before we become parents.”

“That’s sweet and all,” I tell her picking up the box from underneath the Christmas tree, which glitters in the corner. The six-foot-tall pine tree is filled with ornaments. Ones that Maple has been saving since she was a child. We've made Granny's house our own home and it feels pretty damn sweet to be here like this. There's no question about whether or not we'll be together forever.