by Kendall Ryan
Then I carried a slice of chocolate cake with a single candle lit toward them. Poppy's face lit up in a smile and Connor began singing Happy Birthday, a little off-key, but adorably.
"Make a wish," I encouraged, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of her.
"But I have everything I could ever need right here." She reached out and squeezed my hand, her other resting on Connor's back as he peered down at the cake like it held magical power.
"Not everything, Mom. Me and Zach got you ..."
I shook my head. "I'll ask her later, buddy."
I'd debated with myself about giving her the ring now, but didn't want Connor's obvious excitement to play into her decision. I needed to know that she wanted me—regardless of anything else. Which meant I needed to propose in private.
Connor looked disappointed, but nodded his understanding.
Poppy's eyebrows drew together as she studied us, but then I nudged her, and she leaned over her cake and blew out the candle.
After cake, champagne for the grownups, and a bubble bath for Connor, I tucked him into the guest room. I'd gotten new sheets just for him—printed with space scenes and faraway galaxies and a rocket-shaped night-light too.
It was only the second time I'd gotten Poppy to agree to a sleepover, and the first was due to a massive snowstorm this past winter that made driving downright treacherous. Tonight was a big deal on its own, but Poppy had no idea about the ring that was burning a hole in my pocket.
I found Poppy in the kitchen pouring us each a second glass of champagne.
"Happy Birthday, Poppy." I pressed a kiss to her mouth and accepted the champagne flute.
"Thank you, Zach. It's been perfect."
"You're finally catching up to me." I'd turned thirty a couple of months ago and Poppy liked pointing out that she was dating an old man.
"I don't think that's how it works." She chuckled and followed me into the living room where we cuddled on the couch and sipped our champagne.
A little voice inside my head pointed out that maybe I was rushing this, that even if I was ready, even if Connor was amenable to the idea, Poppy might not be ready. We'd only been dating six months after all, but when you knew, you just knew. I just hoped we were on the same page.
"What did you have to ask me?" Poppy asked, gazing thoughtfully at me where I sat next to her.
Gathering my courage, I set my glass down on the table.
Rising to my feet, I felt the weight of Poppy's stare as I shoved one hand into my jeans pocket and withdrew the tiny symbol of my love and devotion.
Suddenly standing before her, I wished I'd planned something more romantic, wished I'd written something magical for her. I felt woefully unprepared, and while I'd wanted this to be simple and sincere, I questioned if I'd fucked this up before I even started.
But then I dropped to both knees to kneel before her, and Poppy brought her fingertips to her lips, her expression filled with wonderment.
I opened my palm and set the ring on her legging-covered knee.
"Zach...?" Her tone was filled with surprise, and she sat up straighter, although carefully so as to not disturb the ring where it balanced.
"From that first moment you approached me at the party, you've owned a piece of my heart. You're brilliant and funny and so goddamn beautiful, Poppy. I've fallen in love with you and I'm ready to pledge my forever to you. If you'll have me."
"But what about Connor ... it's so much to ask, Zach."
I shook my head. "It's not too much to ask. I get so much in return—from both of you. You’ve both brought meaning into my life, a purpose, and I’ve known I’ve wanted this, wanted you, wanted forever, from the moment I saw you."
A single tear slipped down her cheek as she watched me.
"And I kind of already cleared it with Connor, anyway. He's cool with it." I couldn't help but smirk.
At this Poppy laughed as the tears fell down her cheeks…and it was the best sound I'd ever heard in the entire world.
"Yes, Zach. Yes!" I grabbed the ring and slid it onto her finger as she all but leaped into my arms.
The ring looked perfect on her slender finger, the sparkly diamond picking up the light so brilliantly.
"You're stuck with me now."
"Forever," she murmured, bringing her lips to mine.
We heard a small shout of approval come from the guest bedroom and pulled apart.
I chuckled. "I think our cheering section approves."
Epilogue
Zach
“I think I fudged this eggnog up. It has the consistency of semen,” my mother chuckled under her breath.
Poppy winked at her. “I’ll try some.”
This sent them both into a fit of giggles, and I took it as my cue to exit the kitchen.
Since my mother had put me in charge of setting the table, I busied myself with placemats and folding cloth napkins—probably a little more forcefully than necessary.
Poppy followed me, placing one hand over mine. “Relax, babe. She’s just being silly.”
My gaze cut over toward Connor who was stringing lights on my mother’s dusty old artificial tree in the family room.
“I just don’t want Connor to overhear anything he shouldn’t. I want him to be a kid for as long as he can.”
Poppy smiled at me and took my hand. “He will be. And he can’t hear us. That movie is outrageously loud.”
I glanced at the TV where the classic Grinch film was playing and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Was she like this when you were little?” Poppy asked.
I shook my head. “No, she’s gotten dirtier as she’s gotten older.”
“So, I wonder if that’s a genetic thing and I have that to look forward to.” Poppy winked at me, and lifted up on her toes to press a kiss to my lips.
I shook my head and rested a hand on her growing belly. “I’m sorry I’m a grouch. I love you.”
“I love you too. Now go get a beer or something—you don’t really have to abstain just because I do. That’s silly.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just …” I let out a sigh, my eyes wandering over to where my mother and father cooked side by side in the kitchen. Her mashing potatoes, him slicing the roast.
I hadn’t spent a Christmas Eve with both of my parents since I was three years old.
“It’s really throwing you off seeing them together, isn’t it?”
I nodded, reluctant to admit that to her.
My parents hadn’t had a relationship at all after their divorce, not even any of that brave new-world stuff people spoke about like co-parenting or joint family vacations. But since being reunited for the first time in decades at mine and Poppy’s wedding last spring, slowly but surely, they had become friends.
“It’s just … weird, isn’t it?”
Every time they shared a knowing smile, or a laugh, I couldn’t help but be caught off guard, wondering what alternate universe I’d stumbled into. But each time my mom made a dirty joke about the turkey’s breasts, or my dad offered to lend her a hand with something, it was the strangest feeling. I never imagined I’d spend time with them in the same room again—a thought that while depressing, I’d resigned myself too. So to see them laughing and getting along? It was astonishing. I doubted anything romantic would ever develop between them ever again, but they were each getting older, and hell, everyone could use a good friend, a companion, no matter what your age. I guess I was the only one left to get on board with this arrangement.
Poppy smiled at me again like she knew something I didn’t. “I don’t know, I think it’s nice.”
“Maybe I will have that beer. Just one.”
“Good idea, honey,” Poppy encouraged, pressing another kiss to my lips.
I rubbed my hand along the firm bump of her stomach, marveling at how round it had become. I loved seeing her like this, full of my child. Our child. “Are you f
eeling okay? Not too tired?”
She told me she’d been so sick with Connor, but with this baby, she felt great—tons of energy, healthy, and most of all happy. And I was too. I was over the fucking moon. It’d be just over a year since I’d first met Poppy and my life had changed dramatically.
She shook her head. “I feel fine. But I don’t want to stay too late, because we’ve still got some wrapping to do when we get home.” She whispered that last part.
I shook my head. “We won’t stay late, but I finished the wrapping while you took a shower this afternoon.”
This earned me another kiss, and then together, we strode back into the kitchen where Poppy fetched me a bottle of beer from the fridge and handed it to me without a word.
Over dinner, and then after way too much pie, my mother continued to be endearingly inappropriate, keeping us all entertained.
“So, Connor, what are you most excited about with the new baby coming?” my dad asked.
I gazed over at the amazing young man I had adopted as my own shortly after Poppy and I were married. He made me so proud on a daily basis. The way he’d accepted me into their lives, accepted my marriage to his mother, and now his excitement over the baby, it was all so incredible.
Connor thought about it for a minute, and I could see his wheels were turning. He was really processing the question and what his answer might be. “For a long time it was just me and my mom. And then Zach came, and it’s been super fun. I guess what I’m most excited about is having another person in the family to love. I used to beg her for a dog, and she always said no. But I realize now that having a family is way better than a dog.”
A lump formed in my throat, and Poppy’s hand found mine beneath the table.
“Amen to that, sweetheart,” my mother said, reaching over to give Connor’s shoulder a squeeze. “Come on, Connor. Let’s pack you up a slice of pie to take home for breakfast.” My mom winked at him conspiratorially.
“I’ll clean up,” dad said waving us away.
“Come here, Poppy. There’s something I want to show you.” I rose from the table, and helped her out of her chair. Poppy followed me back to the bedroom that used to be mine when I was a little boy.
“Your old room?” she asked. “I’ve already seen it.”
I closed the door behind us. “No. Not my old room. Take a seat.”
Poppy shot me a questioning glare, but sat down on my old twin-sized mattress covered with a patchwork quilt.
I walked closer, stopping to stand in front of her and pulled a folded envelope from my pocket. It was just a simple sheet of paper inside, but damn if it hasn’t been burning a hole in my pocket all night. Maybe that’s why my mother irritated me so badly earlier. It wasn’t my parents’ strange new relationship that was bothering me—it was keeping a secret from Poppy that was weighing on me. I swallowed down a sudden wave of nerves.
“I made you a promise the night I proposed. And then I vowed those promises before God, and our families the day of our wedding.”
“Zach?” Poppy asked, eyebrows lifting in confusion.
I took a deep breath, unfolding the envelope in my hands. “I vowed to you that I would always love, cherish, and provide for you and our children.”
Poppy licked her lips, her gaze jumping between my eyes and the paper in my hands.
“I work every day to make sure you feel loved and cherished. And as for providing … I know my salary at the university isn’t much …”
“That’s not true. It’s great, Zach. The benefits alone are...”
“But I want more for you. For us.” We had what we needed, but we didn’t have money for fancy vacations, or hell, even stashing away in savings.
She nodded, eyes still filled with questions.
“This.” I pulled the sheet of paper from the envelope it had rested inside of for the last three days. “Is part of that future.”
Poppy took the envelope from my hands, and slowly opened it. Her eyes scanned the page in an almost desperate attempt to understand.
“I don’t … I don’t understand. They want to publish your book?”
“Our book, Poppy. They’re offering me, offering us …” I pointed at the number two paragraphs down.
“Three hundred thousand dollars?” Poppy’s voice was breathless as she squinted at me.
I nodded. “For our story.”
I’d gone on submission with my book last fall, and while I had faith in my work, an offer like this was almost unheard of. Especially on a debut novel. My agent had asked for some changes, she wanted the book to be book-club friendly and that meant some major rewrites, including making the book fiction and taking a few creative liberties, but it was still my story, still Poppy’s story. It was our love affair and her single motherhood and chasing our dreams, all the good and bad times spelled out for the world to see.
“Oh my God, Zach.” Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over, silently rolling down her cheeks as she stared at me, open-mouthed and amazed.
The chance to see my work in bookstores was incredible. The money was an aside. But it meant Poppy could stay home with the baby if she wanted to. At least for the first year. She’d graduate this spring. Right around the time the baby was due. I loved that she’d be under no pressure to take on more hours at her marketing job or settle for something less than she was worth.
“I know.” I kissed her and hugged her.
When she squeezed me tight, the bump between us was a reminder of all that was good in the world.
“Why didn’t you tell me? What didn’t you tell everyone at dinner?”
I shook my head, pulling her to her feet and holding her close. “I wanted to save it. Wanted it to be a surprise. A Christmas surprise.”
Her hand came to rest on her belly, the other on my cheek. “I love you so much. And I am so immensely proud of you.”
“They want to keep the title as xo, Zach.” That bit of information made me incredibly happy, and I could tell it had the same effect on Poppy as fresh tears blurred her eyes.
“You did it, Zach.”
“We did.”
A little while later, we led a protesting little boy out of his grandma’s house with the promise that he could open just one gift when we got home.
After the gift was opened and Christmas cookies were eaten, finally, finally, Connor was in bed and I was alone with Poppy.
“Oh my God, did you see how cute he looked in those footie pajamas?” she asked as we headed down the hall to our own bedroom, now dead tired.
I nodded. “I’m glad you liked them. There’s a pair for you under the tree, too.”
This earned me one of her laughs, that I never seemed to tire of. “You found them in maternity sizing?”
“Heck no. They’re going to be skin-tight on you. It’ll be amazing.”
Closing our bedroom door behind us, she turned to face me and leveled me with a pointed stare. “You’re just gross, old man.”
“There’s nothing gross about your body. I love all the changes.” My hands found her hips, now fuller, and I tugged her closer, close enough to feel the hard ridge in my jeans.
“Seriously? The thought of me in footie pajamas—that gets you hard?”
I couldn’t help the chuckle that tumbled from my lips. “Are you not in the mood?”
Most days she was still up for it—but I was waiting for her libido to change, or just for her to tire of being newlyweds, but so far, our passion hadn’t cooled.
“I didn’t say that.” Placing her palm against my denim-covered erection, Poppy let out a soft noise—sort of a happy sigh that made my insides quiver. “Does my husband need some attention?”
I pressed my lips to hers. “Maybe … if you’re up for it.”
“I think we need to properly celebrate that massive publishing contract. Don’t you?” Poppy lifted her arms, allowing me to pull her sweater off over her head.
“I won’t p
rotest that. What did you have in mind?”
Poppy unlatched my belt, and worked her hand inside my jeans, stroking the length of my cock with her soft, delicate hand. “Want you.”
The swell of her ample cleavage jiggled as she worked her hand up and down.
“Fuck that feels good.”
Poppy let out another of those toe-curling noises.
In about three seconds flat, I had her stripped naked and on the bed next to me. She was only six months along, but already we’d gotten creative with our lovemaking. I knew from here on out, finding a position that made Poppy feel both comfortable and sexy would keep me on my toes. Tonight it seemed I had succeeded. With us laying side by side, I lifted her top leg and placed it over my hip so I could align myself with her.
“Is this okay?” I asked, voice breathless.
“Yes. Please,” she whispered. “I want you.”
With her legs spread before me, I had the perfect access to stroke her clit and suck and kiss her breasts as I thrust inside, slowly but deeply.
We moved together, perfectly in sync until we both came in a hot, sticky rush.
Then I lovingly cleaned up my glowing bride and covered us in our down comforter.
This was my perfection. A warm, sleepy Poppy in my arms and our first Christmas morning to enjoy with our son tomorrow.
“I have one last surprise for you,” I whispered in the dark.
“There’s more? What is it?” Poppy asked.
I lifted her hand and placed her fingers over my heart.
She pushed the blankets aside and squinted in the dimly lit room, trying to make out the script. It was a new tattoo, her name—written in her own script, inked right over my heart.
“How did you get this? When?”
I swallowed down a sudden wave of emotion. When the artist had finished, and I saw her tidy writing scrawled across my skin, knowing it would be there for all of eternity, I’d felt moved—but now seeing it again through Poppy’s eyes, it was almost just as powerful.
“I took a piece of paper you had signed for school with me, and the artist re-created it.”
“Oh Zach. This is …”
“Do you like it?”
