“That sounds like exactly what Christmas should be about,” she says. I don’t add in that she is going to experience it for herself this year because I’m afraid she’ll close up again.

“Favorite color?” I ask, and this time, she answers without thinking twice.

“Pink or purple. What about you?”

“I would say blue.” I don’t add that guys don’t usually have a favorite color. “Favorite movie.”

“Gosh,” she says, cutting and adding to the bowl of salad. “The last movie I saw was Beauty and the Beast.” She laughs. “I mean, we watched it on my phone, so you can imagine the size of it.” She looks at me. “You?”

“Anything but Frozen,” I say. “Like literally anything but that movie.”

“Should I ask why?” She laughs.

“My niece went through a phase. And by phase, I mean every single time it finished, she watched it again. At first, it was okay, but by day two, I wanted to snap the Wi-Fi wire.”

“So no Frozen for movie night?” She smiles at me, and I walk over to her, leaning down and kissing her, and she kisses me back this time.

“I’m going to start the grill, and then I’m going to make the potatoes,” I say, and she nods. This time, she leans up and kisses me first. I want to run around with my hands over my head and cheer out victory, but I don’t. After I walk outside to start the grill, the door opens, and Dylan comes out.

“Is it almost ready?” he asks, and I have to laugh at him.

“In about fifteen minutes,” I say and go inside. The salad is now done, and she’s waiting for me. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to start the potatoes,” she says, “but I don’t know how to work your microwave.” She points at my microwave. “That has way too many options. Mine has a dial that you turn to the amount of time you want.” I walk over and show her how it works.

“Do you want to eat inside or outside?” I ask, and she shrugs. “Sweetheart, just pick.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” she says, looking at me. “Either one is fine.”

“Dylan.” I call his name, and he comes running in. “Inside or outside?” I ask, and he chooses outside.

“What do we need to set the table outside?” she asks, and now it’s my turn to shrug. “Do you have place mats? A pitcher so I can bring some water out?”