The Christmas Box (The Box Books #2)

22. One Year Later

Christmas Eve

Lexi

T he tree in my apartment is beautifully lit, the fire blazing, and on TV, George Bailey is begging Clarence the Angel to get him back to the wonderful life he’d taken for granted. Travis and I are snuggling on the couch, Crinkle wrapped in my arms, and Marley is curled up on Travis’s other side. All four of us wear matching Christmas pajamas. Tomorrow will be another Christmas dinner with our friends, but tonight is just for us.

The past year has flown by quicker than Santa’s sleigh, and so much has happened.

After finishing his work on the soap shop, Travis started his own carpentry business and has more business than he can keep up with. He does off-site projects primarily in his dad’s workshop, and on weekends, he’s updating his old family home to move into. He still regrets not having more time with his father, but we know his dad would be happy with Travis’s plans to stay on the farm. Today, on this first anniversary of losing him, we took poinsettias to his grave.

Meanwhile, the Christmas Box is going strong. As Chet predicted, the profits from last December were needed to sustain us through slow months, but Travis’s illegal interstate sign last year taught us that advertising pays off. So Dara has worked to build up a social media following that now draws people from all over the region and beyond. And no one comes in without leaving a wish in the wishing box.

Like last year, Travis and I committed ourselves to making as many wishes come true as we could, and it’s a tradition we plan to continue in years to come.

After the movie ends, Travis glances toward the mantel and asks me, “What’s that in your stocking?”

Two old-fashioned red velvet stockings with our names embroidered on them flank the fireplace, but they’re empty, so I say, “Nothing.”

“No,” he says, still peering toward the fireplace, “I think I see something peeking out of yours. You’d better go check.”

I turn to eye him speculatively. I still don’t see anything “peeking” from my stocking. But, even as comfy as I am with my guy, I ease out of the cuddle and walk over to look.

“You’re wrong,” I say upon reaching it. “There’s nothing sticking out of it.”

“Hmm. Well, maybe you should reach down inside just to be sure.”

What exactly is my handsome ex-Scrooge up to here? Tossing him another suspicious look, I slide my hand into the stocking—to pull out an adorable little box tied with a lovely red ribbon. “What’s this?” I ask, surprised. We agreed to exchange gifts tomorrow morning.

His eyes widen playfully as he tells me, “Open it and see.”

Tugging on the ribbon, I pull it free, then lift the small box’s lid to find a beautiful diamond ring inside. A gasp leaves me as joy ripples through my heart. And that’s when Travis is suddenly up off the couch, too, dropping to one knee in his holiday PJs next to my Christmas tree, taking my hand in his.

“Alexandra Louise Hargrove,” he begins, “over the past year, you’ve made me happier than I knew I could be. You’ve shown me how to find the good in life, and how to live in the Christmas spirit all year long. I love you. Will you make me the luckiest ex-Grinch in the world and marry me?”

“Of course,” I say.

As Travis slips the sparkling ring on my finger, I think about how yet another kind of Christmas box has just brought us even closer, and how one more wish—which I wrote on a wishing box slip a few weeks ago but never put inside, since it turned out that wasn’t necessary anyway—has just come true.