He blows his nose on a mitten he’s knitting. He’s not exceptionally skilled with nonmagical knitting, so it looks more like one of those mitts you fit over a baby’s hand so they don’t scratch themselves. “I enjoyed that very much.”

“Anyone want to go caroling?” Mom asks, to which a few of the kids chime, “Me! Me!” But none of them louder than Hall, who flings himself at the door so fast, he forgets it’s a closet.

Marilou, Courtney, and Kaia scramble out of his way. This man takes his caroling seriously.

“There’s something off about that one,” Sean mutters.

“Don’t say that again.” Grandma gently touches his hand. “Or I’ll put a hex on you. I have my ways.”

Grandpa slips me five dollars. “For the Band-Aid collection.”

I hug him. “Hall filled your bedroom with inflatable ducks. I’m so sorry. Woman’s Day won’t stop sending us magazines, and he finds the most unbelievable coupons.”

He pulls back, glaring at Sean. “Why don’t you ever bring me inflatable ducks?”

Sean sputters.

When I bound outside, I have to bring Hall his coat because he was so excited that he forgot it. He’s singing, “Have yourself a merry little Bettie,” when I walk up on him. “Let your heart be mine.”

I launch into his arms. He laughs as he catches me, a shimmering peppermint cloud of a laugh ringing in the air. He doesn’t feel like himself without the holiday spirit fragrance, so he’s been wearing candy cane cologne.

“I wish . . .” I go hmm, thinking hard. “That you would give me a Hershey’s Kiss. You’ve always got some in your pocket.”

“Granted.” He hands one over. “I wish . . . that you would give me a kiss, too.”

“Granted.” I capture his mouth with mine, and I’ll never get used to this—how he puts his entire body into a kiss, making each and every one an ardent I love you in which I can taste each letter of my name, fulfilling promises he’d made to himself back when he didn’t know if we’d be together again, vowing that if he ever got the chance, he’d better kiss me like every time was the last. As a perfectionist, he is a very good kisser. Spectacularly unrivaled. When he finally withdraws, he’s gone rosy and there’s a dark haze in his eyes, gaze so intent on my face that I blush. Personally, I have forgotten where I am and what we were doing, which he must be able to tell, because his dimpled smile turns a touch smug. He’s deliciously all-over human these days, but he still grants the best wishes.

Ah, yes. Now I remember. We’re going to go caroling until our feet ache and our throats are sore, and then we’re going to come back to the house and drink hot cocoa that Hall is consistently flabbergasted does not auto-refill. Then, we are going to spend the rest of our lives endeavoring to make each other merry and bright.