Chuckling, I shake my head, following after him. But apparently, I’m not moving fast enough, because he starts barking at me from up the hall.

“Hurry up! Come on come on come on!”

“Alright… Jesus,” I grumble. “Hold your reindeer.”

But when I get to the living room, he’s not there. He pokes his head around the corner from the hall. “Your big gift is outside.”

Okay, now I’m intrigued.

I follow him, or rather, allow him to drag me by the hand, outside onto the back deck. He brings me down to our little yard area, then stops, grinning at a pile of stuff on the ground.

“Tada! Merry Christmas,” he says while bouncing around animatedly.

“Thanks, baby…” I hum, cocking my head. “What, uh… is it?”

He jaunts over to the pile. “It’s everything we’ll need to start our own garden. Or rather, your garden.”

He beams at me, and I’m speechless. I’m just blinking at his beautiful, cheerful face, my heart swelling up behind my ribs.

He’s giving me a garden…?

“See, all of this wood we’ll use to build the fence. There’s chicken wire, and rope, and everything you need.” He smiles at me. “I know you miss being able to grow things… And now you can. You can grow whatever you want here. Well, whatever the weather will permit. But, spoiler alert, I also got you some stuff for indoor growing in the den. It’s not like we use it anyway.”

“Baby…” My head shakes back and forth as I stomp over to him, taking his face in my hands. “This is such an incredible gift. Thank you so much.”

“And the best part is that we get to do it together.” He grins. “We’ve got nothing but time, and I figured this would be a fun thing for us to do. As partners. Or fiancés. Or husbands.” He bites his lip, and I laugh.

“Well… to be fair, you might not have as much free time on your hands as you think…” My fingers trail his jaw, and his forehead lines. I show him a wicked smirk, nodding toward the house. “Come here, baby. Let me give you your gift.”

He looks nervously excited, just like he did last night when I was about to propose, and I swear, it’s the best possible look on him. Taking him by the hand, I drag him back into the house, to the living room.

Picking up a flat box wrapped in snowman paper, I hand it to him, unable to stop from fidgeting in place. He rips it open like a wild animal, confusion gracing his features when he finds the documents and a set of keys.

“What is this…?” he asks, looking everything over, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“Congratulations, Jess,” I whisper. “You’re the new owner of your very own shop down on Main Street.”