Page 43 of Love in the Lab (Delaneys in Love #2)

Chapter thirty-five

Molly

“ M erry Christmas,” I hum, sitting up in bed and jostling Jonathan awake on Christmas morning.

“Not time to wake up yet,” Jonathan grumbles, pulling the covers up to his neck.

“But it’s Christmas morning!”

He cracks one eye open. “I don’t care if Santa Claus came already. I need more sleep.”

“Oh, come on, where’s your Christmas spirit?” I poke his shoulder.

“My nieces destroyed it,” he mutters, “along with all my energy.”

We’ve been in Ohio for two days now, both filled with a lot of family time, which for Jonathan means a lot of high-energy games with Charlotte, Hannah, and Mia. For me, it means time chatting with Tamara and Sharon.

I’m so glad Jonathan and his dad are on better terms now, because I couldn’t dislike Sharon if I tried.

She’s quiet, but witty. She comes up with the perfect zingers at the perfect time in the conversation, surprising everyone.

It’s clear how much she loves Pete and treats his family like her own.

She was married twenty years before her husband passed away from an early heart attack, but they never had children, so her relationship with Pete gives her the chance to step into the role of grandmother.

She’s very good at it, judging by the number of cookies she slipped the girls yesterday.

Actually, all that sugar probably explains their insane energy levels.

Today, we’re seeing even more family members.

I’m told that Christmas dinner, which kicks off in the early afternoon at Tamara’s house, is big and loud and includes Jonathan’s grandparents—Pete’s parents—as well as aunts, uncles, and cousins.

More kids, and if they all demand Jonathan’s attention the way his nieces do, some extra sleep this morning really is crucial.

Leaving my husband snoozing, I take a shower and get dressed.

Christmas with my family growing up was a casual day—it was just the five of us, so we wouldn’t dress up or do anything fancy for our Christmas dinner.

Not so for Jonathan’s family. Jonathan described the attire for the big family Christmas dinner as “business casual.” I wear a pair of black slacks I bought for Vegas, along with a white cowl-neck sweater with threads of silver woven throughout it.

I quietly open the door to the guest bedroom when I go back in to put my pajamas away, but Jonathan isn’t here anymore. The bed is made, and lying at the foot is a beautiful hand-knit stocking, dark green with an ivory cuff and my name spelled out in sparkling gold stitching.

I duck my head out into the hallway to see if Jonathan’s loitering nearby, but I can’t find him. I text him a picture of the stocking instead.

Molly:

What’s this?

Jonathan:

Your Christmas stocking. For you to open at your leisure and in private

He remembered what I told him about memories of opening my Christmas stocking when I was a child. My chest fills with warmth. Of course he did. That’s Jonathan. He’s thoughtful and sweet and so good at taking care of me. I suppose I need to get used to these acts of service.

Molly:

How did Santa find me [wink face emoji]

Jonathan:

Christmas magic

I know I told Jonathan how much I used to relish opening my stocking while my sisters were distracted—the peace and magic I felt going at my own pace and inspecting each item—but I find that now there’s something I value more than that solitude.

Molly:

Come upstairs and open it with me

Jonathan:

Are you sure?

Molly:

Yes

I want to share this moment with him, share every moment—big or small—with Jonathan for the rest of my life.

I know that was the point of getting married a month ago, but it’s hitting me now, being here with him and his family on my favorite day of the year, that my relationship with Jonathan, our marriage, is really real.

Intensely real. I get to spend my life with this handsome, charming, attentive man, and he loves me.

By the time Jonathan cracks open the bedroom door and slips inside, my eyes are brimming with tears as I stand next to the bed.

“Hey,” he says softly. He’s still dressed in the flannel pajama pants and T-shirt he slept in. He steps toward me and cups my face in his hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I sniffle. “I just really love you.”

He grins. “I love you, too, Carrots. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” I repeat. Jonathan tips his head down and kisses me tenderly.

The warmth in my chest spreads throughout my entire body.

I increase the pressure of my lips on his, and he eagerly echoes my intensity.

Jonathan slides his hands off my face and down my arms, finally looping them behind my back, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss.

When we break apart, we both need a minute to catch our breaths.

“Hey now,” Jonathan teases. “I didn’t come up here for that. Open your stocking.”

I smile at him and take a step back. “It’s beautiful. Where did it come from?” I sit on the edge of the bed next to the stocking.

Jonathan sits down beside me. “My grandmother made it. She makes Christmas stockings for all her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I went to her house yesterday to pick it up while you were shopping with Tamara.”

My eyes go wide. “How in the world did she make it so quickly? She didn’t have much advance notice that I was joining the family this Christmas.”

He chuckles. “She said she already had the stocking itself made, so she just needed to stitch your name on it.”

“I can’t wait to meet her later today and thank her.” I pick up the stocking to look at the stitching more closely.

Jonathan caresses my back, running his palm over my soft sweater. “She’s looking forward to meeting you, too.”

I poise my hand over the stocking’s opening. “Ready?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’m ready whenever you’re ready. This is your show.”

I pull the first item out of the stocking and laugh. It’s a scented candle in a pretty glass jar. The label on the front reads, “Having me as a husband is really the only gift you need.”

“Oh, really?” I give Jonathan some side-eye and shake my head.

“I’m just saying.” He shoots me the smirk I’ve grown to love. “You kind of hit the jackpot in Vegas. We both did.”

“No arguments here.”

I reach back into the stocking and find a bag of my favorite chocolates. “Yum,” I say. “You put all the essentials in here, huh?”

He nods toward the stocking in my hands. “Maybe. Keep looking.”

“Uh-uh. My show,” I remind him. I open the bag and peel the foil wrapper from one of the chocolates. I pop it in my mouth while unwrapping a second piece. This one I give to Jonathan.

“Thank you,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate.

I put my hand back in the stocking. This time I come back with a large bag of Cafe Beignet beignet mix. I laugh.

“So you can still have beignets when we move to Charleston,” Jonathan explains.

I give him a skeptical look. “You think I’m going to make beignets?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “I’m going to make them for you.”

“Ah, good.” I smirk. “That works for me.”

The next item that emerges is a large rosette ribbon, blue with gold lettering that says, “Prank Queen of Louisiana.”

“Does this mean I won the prank war?” I ask between gasps of laughter, thinking back to Jonathan teasing me about his high school title of “Prank King of Ohio.”

“Um, obviously.” Jonathan rolls his eyes like a preteen. “I knew I couldn’t beat the frozen-specimens-on-the-day-the-big-boss-visits prank, so I didn’t even try.”

“Okay, Dr. Perron’s visit was not supposed to be part of the prank,” I protest.

“That’s why it was so genius! Truly, I’m in the presence of a master.”

I shake my head indulgently and go back to the stocking. The next thing I find is a package of hair ties, the kind I like that are gentle on my hair. “Can never have too many of these.”

“Agreed.”

I’m getting toward the bottom of the stocking. I can tell by the weight that there are only a few items left.

Reaching my arm down, I pull out a booklet of sticky notes. I flip through it to find messages scrawled on each page. Some are sweet. Some are encouraging. Some compliment the more—ahem— intimate aspects of our married relationship.

I blush. “I’ll read these later.”

Jonathan smiles at me smugly. “Not right now? You can take your time. I’m not in a rush.”

I glare at him. “Later is fine.”

He chuckles. “Suit yourself.” He nods toward the stocking. “There’s one more thing in there.”

I stretch my fingers all the way to the toe of the stocking and wrap them around a box. Slowly, I guide it around the bend at the heel of the stocking and lift it all the way out. Not just any box—a jewelry box. A … ring box?

I pop it open and gasp. A gorgeous diamond engagement ring sparkles back at me. It’s gold with a single ideal-cut diamond at the center. The sides of the band are twisted in an intricate, interwoven pattern that reminds me of a knot.

I look at Jonathan. He’s watching me with an unsure, self-conscious expression.

He pulls the ring from the box. “I figured since you didn’t get an engagement ring or even a proper proposal…

” he trails off as he slides it onto my left ring finger, fitting it gently against my wedding band.

“If it sits too high or is too tight, or bothers you in any way, we can return it.”

“Don’t you dare,” I breathe out. “It’s perfect.”

Jonathan perks up. “You like it?”

“I love it. It’s gorgeous.” I hold out my hand, admiring the ring on my finger. “Rings don’t tend to bother me unless they come up too high and bang on things. I don’t think this one will do that.”

Jonathan smiles slowly. “Good. That’s one of the things I looked for. What do you think of the sides?”

“The knots? They’re beautiful. It makes me think of…” I twist up my lips, trying to place the errant thought.

“Ropes?” Jonathan suggests. “Like on a boat?”

I snap my fingers. “Yes! That’s it exactly.”

He grins. “Good. You know, as much as our love story took place in the lab, it really started on a boat.”

“It did,” I agree. “That first trip we took together on the Pulse , I knew I was falling for you.” I snort. “I hated that it was happening, but I couldn’t deny it. At least not while being honest with myself.”

Jonathan holds my gaze, and just like when we were out on the water that day, I’m spellbound by his hazel eyes. “That first day on the boat? Carrots, I was already gone.”

My lips part in surprise, and my husband takes the opportunity to cover them with his own.

Today, we’ll call my family to wish them a merry Christmas.

Then, we’ll celebrate with the whole Stanch clan.

In two days, Jonathan will stand by his dad’s side as best man when Pete marries Sharon, the love of his life he worried he’d never find.

We’ll fly to New Orleans, finish packing the last of our belongings, and make the long drive to our new home in Charleston together.

Come January, we’ll both start our new jobs. We’ll navigate finances and communication and intimacy and our families together as we learn to balance our individual needs with our time for each other. We’ll argue and make up. We’ll wake up each day and choose to love each other.

But for now, for these next few minutes on our first Christmas together, I don’t think about the future or plan my next move.

I just enjoy the moment, basking in the overwhelming, intoxicating love I never thought would be mine.

For now, I’m focused on how much I love Jonathan Stanch’s stupidly handsome face.