The Snuggle Is Real

As she finishes with the offices, I refill our coffee cups, clean up the broken dish, put things away in the bedroom, and listen as Cozy explains to the officer how she has this information. It slays me to know she was held by them for so long and it makes me want to work even harder to be the safe haven she deserves.

When the cops leave, we both exhale, my love for her stronger than I could have imagined. How is it possible to fall so hard, so damn fast?

“I can’t believe I did that, stood up for myself.”

I pull her to me. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me too.”

I lift her chin, kissing her softly. Later, I know the police will be here for an official statement, and that our life might be messy for a while until this is all cleared up, but right now, I am standing next to the Christmas tree with the only woman I’ve ever loved.

“You know, you gave me a Christmas gift, but I didn’t get a chance to give you yours.”

She smiles. “You don’t have a present for me… we just met.”

“We did just meet, but your gift was here all along, just waiting for your finger.”

“Finger?” she asks, her eyes widening as I pull a ring from my pocket. It had been stowed away in the dresser in the bedroom.

“It was my grandma’s engagement ring. And look,” I say, sliding it onto her ring finger, “it fits you perfectly.”

“Are you really doing this?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“We are really doing this.” I lift her up in my arms, carrying her to the couch. “Come here, Cozy, it’s time to get our snuggle on.”EpilogueCozetteOne year later…Our first Christmas morning at the cabin was dramatic — a pointed gun, police officers, a proposal — it was a lot.

This year it isn’t dangerous, but it is still dramatic.

How could it not be when we have three-month-old twins with us?

Yes, that is correct. We had twins! I guess we did more than snuggle in front of the fire… we made a baby. Well, two of them.

And God, are they adorable.

And loud.

So very loud.

I laugh, rocking Vale in my arms; Whitaker has Icelyn in his. We’re pacing the cabin and making eye contact every so often. Colic is no joke, and we are seriously tired — probably as tired as these ridiculously cute yet sobbing infants.

“Maybe if you put Icelyn in her swing, you can make us coffee?” I ask, pleading at my hubby.

“Will do,” he says. “And maybe we can add a little extra whiskey because damn, my nerves.”

I laugh through my exhaustion. Being parents has transformed us in a million ways. I never knew how hard it was to be a parent, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. And that is saying something, considering Vale is still letting me know just how unhappy he is.

I wish I could make it all better, but I know the best thing I can do is stay calm, be patient, and try to breathe through it all.

With Icelyn in her swing, I expect the cabin to get even louder, but by some Christmas miracle, it calms her.

My eyes widen, meeting Whitaker’s. He laughs silently, pressing a finger to his lips.

Oh. Vale has stopped crying too. It’s like these twins have a sixth sense for one another, always copying each other. If it means they are both silent for a moment, I will take it.

“His eyes are closed,” Whitaker whispers. I nod, rocking him slowly as I transition him to the swing next to Icelyn’s.

The Christmas music is playing low on the surround sound system — yes, Whitaker upgraded it after last Christmas. Along with installing new appliances and a state of the art security system.

I joked, saying I would have been in trouble if he had installed it before I broke in. But he ensures me that my sneaking into this cabin was the best thing that ever happened to him.

It’s the best thing that ever happened to me too.

The babies are sound asleep, and Whitaker asks if I still want coffee. But I shake my head. “No,” I whisper, “I want you.”

He bites his bottom lip, lifting me up by my waist, carrying me down the hall to the bedroom. My legs wrapped around him, he places me on the bed. I undo the belt on my bathrobe, revealing a red satin nightie. “Merry Christmas,” I tell him as he climbs on top of me.

“Look at this present,” he growls in my ear. “Almost too pretty to touch.”

I laugh softly, taking his hand and placing it on my breast. ‘Oh, you’re touching,” I say. “I need you, Whit.”

“Good, because baby, I need you too.”

It’s been a long few months with the babies, and I miss my husband. So I am not wasting this moment of quiet. Neither is he.