Page 61 of Tis the Season for a Cowboy

“Lay it on me, sugar.”

“It took a lot of work to acquire it,” I tell him. “And I may have had some help from a very handsome gentleman.”

Hank’s face creases with a frown as I reach beneath the coffee table.

Finger looped through the silvery string, I lift the ornament.

As his gift comes into view, he lets out a loud exhale. His face, his shoulders soften as he surveys Jackson’s tiny footprint, molded in clay. “Oh, sugar.” His strong hand finds mine, warm, fingers curling around my own. “I love it.”

“Should we do the honors?”

Together, we stand and shuffle to the tree. It’s tall and spindly and is draped with multicolored lights and red ribbons. We went with Hank’s traditional Christmas décor this year. I don’t mind. It reminds me of childhood and is fitting for Jackson’s first Christmas. Beneath the branches sit gifts of various sizes wrapped in plaid paper.

We hang our ornaments on the long branches of the tree, then step back to admire our collection. The ceramic dog figurine that represents Zelda. A tiny cast-iron skillet for ourfirst camping trip together. When I find the silver frame with the sonogram inside it, tears blur my vision.

I’ll never forget our first baby. He taught me so much. How grief and happiness are intertwined. How to be okay. How to mess up but fix things too.

Like he senses my melancholy, Hank wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. He kisses my hair, voice dropped to a whisper. “You okay?”

“I am.” Twisting, I face him, hands on his broad chest. “Especially with you.”

His smile speeds the beat of my heart.

“I love you, Bell.” Hand moving to my cheek, he drops his forehead to mine.

“I love you too.” I breathe him in. Cup his face. Kiss him deeply.

My entire being gets lost in Hank’s steady presence. His heart. This man, this cowboy who has shown me that it’s okay to be lost because he’ll always find me.

Tiny, adorable snuffling noises come from Jackson’s bassinet. Still tangled together, we tiptoe a few inches to the right and peer inside.

“He’s dreaming.”

Jackson’s pouty lips turn up into a smile.

“That’s what this feels like,” Hank murmurs. “A dream.”

“The best dream,” I tell him, my body warming at the pure adoration in his expression. “One I never want to wake up from.”

“Never been happier, Bell.” He leans down and presses his lips against mine.

As I take in his handsome face, I wonder about all the Christmases we’ll have together. All this love and the rest of our lives to do this over and over again.

I can’t wait.

“How lucky are we?” I ask, my heart a hammer of happy inside my chest.

Hank holds me closer. “The luckiest.” He brushes a kiss against my temple and whispers, “Merry Christmas, Bluebell.”

I tilt my mouth up, sweeping my lips over his. “Merry Christmas.”

My favorite time of the year.

All because of a cowboy.