Page 84 of The Christmas Arrangement

He doesn’t speak. Just pulls me close, his face pressed into my neck. I feel the shudder of his breath and hold him tighter.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Okay. My turn. But you have to close your eyes.”

“Come on.”

“Close them,” he repeats.

“Okay, but this better not be a matcha wheatgrass latte, Dasher.”

He laughs, and I close my eyes, listening to his footsteps leave the room. There’s rustling, a soft sound I can’t quite place, and then he’s back.

“Okay. Open them.”

He’s holding a small black kitten with huge honey-colored eyes. The cat studies me curiously over a red bowtie.

“Is that King Cole?” I gasp, remembering the cat from Titus’ cafe who got Dash into so much trouble.

“Sure is.”

“But he’s not one of the Stillwater cats. Isn’t this Titus’ cat?”

“He was a teahouse cat, but he adopted me when Titus and I were doing the Santa Paws planning. If I sat down, he found my lap. If I stood up, he crawled up on my shoulder like a parrot. So, I kept taking the allergy meds to spend some time with him whenever I have a few minutes.” He grins.“He’s ours. If you want him.”

Ours. The word settles in my chest like a promise.

Dash places the kitten on the bed. I let him sniff my fingers and wait until he rubs the side of his face against my palm before I scoop him up. He’s purring, a rumbling engine against my chest. “He’s perfect. I love him. You.”

“I love you, too.” Dash climbs back into bed and wraps his arms around both of us—me and our fluffy ball of affection. “Merry Christmas, Ivy.”

Later, we’ll tromp through the snow for the traditional Jolly family charcuterie board Christmas meal and present exchange before we all help serve Christmas dinner to the inn’s guests. Daniel and Rachel are going to join us this year, as my family’s circle keeps expanding to make room for more people, more love.

But at this moment, inside the cottage, wrapped in Dash’s arms with King Cole purring between us, I’m already home in our circle of three.