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“Smells like we’re in for quite a feast,” I murmur.
“This dress is too tight to eat,” she says.
“You look stunning.” She does. The red silk dress clings to her every curve, but her shoulders are bare.
“You look hot yourself.”
I laugh and kiss her cheek. “Just a boring tux.”
“Not on you.”
Amelia’s eyes widen as she takes in the opulence of the dining room. “It’s beautiful.”
Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in crisp white linen edged in gold.
I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. “Wait until you see the other room.”
We continue our circuit, greeting more guests. Amelia’s bravery grows with each step.
Finally, we reach the second room. I pause at the threshold, watching Amelia’s face.
She gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. The room is a winter wonderland. Twinkling lights adorn snow-frosted pine trees and cover the entire ceiling. Garlands of holly and ivy drape across the walls. But it’s the large bauble covered Christmas tree that makes her whisper, “West...”
Amelia’s eyes roam over the Christmas tree, taking in every detail. Her gaze stops suddenly, and I follow it to a delicate ornament nestled among the branches. It’s a small sailboat, its white sails catching the twinkling lights.
“I miss Christmas, West,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “How did you...?”
I squeeze her hand gently. “Keep looking.”
Her eyes widen as she spots the first photo. It’s of her parents, young and carefree, standing on the deck of a boat. Then another catches her attention, and another.
Photos of her family are hidden in the tree, capturing moments frozen in time.
“These are the photos you helped me get from Felix’s apartment,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.
I nod, watching her face closely. “I know how much they mean to you. And as they can’t be here in person to celebrate your engagement. I want them here in spirit.”
Amelia’s eyes fill with tears as she moves around the tree. She reaches out to touch a photo of her mother laughing, her head thrown back in joy.
“I won’t let you forget them,” I promise.
She turns to me, her eyes shining. “Thank you, West. This means everything to me.”
I pull her close, feeling her warmth against me. “And you mean everything to me.”
She looks up at me, a soft smile on her lips. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
My heart swells at her words. I lean down, pressing my forehead against hers. I pull her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“There you both are.” My mother, Catherine, glides towards us, her arms outstretched.
She embraces us both, her signature Chanel No. 5 perfume enveloping as she moves closer.
“West, darling,” she coos, holding her palms on Amelia’s arms and staring at her stunning face. “You’ve picked such a beautiful girl for your future wife.”
Amelia stiffens beside me, her hand tightening in mine. I squeeze back, hoping to reassure her.
“I did, but…” I say, gazing down at Amelia. “I’m lucky she chose me.”