“You kids gonna be okay? Somebody needs to get down to the shop and earn a living,” Henry said as he put down his glass of sparkling cider. I hated for him to leave. It was a perfect Christmas Eve night in Atlanta. The cares of the day were falling by the wayside. “I was just going to go out to the market to get tuna steaks and check out my new kitchen,” Griffin said.

“Not tonight. I want that kitchen pristine until tomorrow,” I admonished. “I just want you to sit back and enjoy and let me tell you about the tree.” He nodded. And I walked Henry to the door. “Let me send something over,” Henry offered. “It’s on the house.”

“Yeah. Mine,” Griffin said but made no motion to go anywhere.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Griff this happy or content. You did an amazing job, Bailey. But are you sure you want to stay here tonight? With Griffin?”

This time I didn’t scold Henry. I could see his concern. And he was right. Three weeks of sweat, of stubble, of being under the same roof and not hearing from Elliott, it could lead to us unwrapping things that had nothing to do with Christmas gifts. I returned to Griffin. To be honest, there was not an EpiPen strong enough to curtail the particular reaction I had to Griffin. We were too busy enjoying Griffin’s new place and each other’s company.

“I don’t know what I will ever do to thank you, Bae,” Griffin said touching my hand. “Now tell me about this Christmas tree.” He grabbed my hand, and we walked over to what I knew was his very first Christmas tree. I had always wanted to do this for him. He touched the old-fashioned potato masher I had gotten Daddy at Williams-Sonoma, which hung on the tree. He also pointed to Rudolph with a silver cocktail shaker in its hand, an ornament that I had given him so many Christmases ago. Right beside it was a Santa Claus sitting in an easy chair with a martini glass that I had given Griffin in college. We smiled at each other. The unique ornaments combined with the lifetime of memories we shared made for a potent cocktail. He kissed me. Luckily for me, he was curious about the tree.

“You know there’s no mistletoe above us, right?” I asked as we moved back to the sofa.

“I could’ve sworn there was mistletoe. It must be some of the magic you were talking about,” he laughed. “How did you get this tree with all the lights and the decorations?”