Page 139 of These Secret Years

There’s an orangish glow coming from the front windows of the lake house when I arrive. Some of the boards in the steps to the porch have been replaced, leaving me able to walk up without fear of falling through them. The porch itself is clean, too. No cobwebs or layer of dust. He must have swept.

I knock because the place doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Not like this.

Knight answers the door looking so perfect it almost makes my legs give out. He’s beaming. His dark eyes are sparkling like gems, and his hair is a perfect shag around his gorgeous face. He’s dressed his big body in a skin-hugging zip-up fleece and has on what I think are new black joggers. I’m wearing new clothes, too. Gifts from my mom. A gray henley that I almost couldn’t fit over my cast and jeans, which are the same size as the ones she got me last year, but I fill out much better now. Because it’s snowing, I’m also in my new black coat that’s more about function than fashion.

“Merry Christmas,” Knight says.

“Merry Christmas.”

With that, he opens the door wider, and I see what he’s done here. The tree, the lights, the decorations, and I hear the music. Tchaikovsky. The Nutcracker.

The shape of dreams come true.

Chapter Thirty-One

KNIGHT

Iwasn’t expecting Sullivan to react so strongly to what I did with the lake house. I guess I figured—it’s Christmas. Seems obvious I would have put a tree up, right? Like who wouldn’t do that?

“This is so beautiful.” His face shines with a continuous stream of tears.

I’m afraid to touch him after the hug I gave him yesterday had him backing away from me, so I gesture for him to sit on the pillows I laid out on the rug I brought over. I might not have been able to fix up the entire house, but this one little corner, I was able to make merry and bright, I hope.

“Want some egg nog? Beer? It’s Christmas-themed beer, but I thought it tasted all right for an IPA.”

“Whatever you’re having,” he says.

I go to the cooler on the kitchen table and pull out two of the IPAs, opening them before I walk back over to sit near him.

He takes a bottle from me and wipes his face with the side of the same hand. “Sorry. It’s been a day. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“And here I thought you’d roll your eyes because it’s such a cliché.”

He shakes his head, staring up at the tree. It’s a half-assed decorating job at best. Ten strands of multi-colored lights, a couple of boxes of shiny, white balls, and that’s it. He looks at it like it’s the Rockefeller tree. “It’s beautiful,” he says again.

I let him take it in while I take him in. His breaths are deep and deliberate, and his eyes shine in wonder, reflecting the lights. His face glows warm in all the colors, and he’s never looked lovelier. I’ve always thought his face was perfect, from the first time I ever saw it, but there must really be something to knowing someone better—seeing their inner beauty shine through. His head moves subtly to the hypnotic beat of the Arabian Dance, and he seems like he’s part of the music. Like he’s of it.

“Why would you do this for me?”

“I did it for us,” I tell him.

“Why?”

“Because I thought we’d like it. Maybe because we need it.”

His eyes close, and he drops his chin nearly to his chest. “I want you so much,” he whispers.

I swallow hard. That was the thing I wasn’t expecting, especially not one beer sip in and a Christmas tree later. Maybe on FaceTime in a few weeks when I haven’t left him alone and dropped several more hints, but not right this second. And still, “I want you, too.”

“How?” he asks, looking back up at the tree. “How do we do it?”

“I mean…are you okay keeping a secret?”

Finally, he looks at me, and with a level of sincerity that seems wrenched from the deepest part of him he says, “Yes.”

“I need something from you, though,” I say, because I do have a condition. If I’m going to risk literally everything I have for this chance at a life I never thought I’d be able to live, then I have to ask.

“What? Oh…yeah, I’ll stop,” he says.