I wedge my phone between my chin and chest and turn the pockets inside out looking for the keys, and when I don’t find them, a hole in the pocket’s seam. Oh god, what if they’re lodged somewhere in the gown’s many layers of lining? But my search turns up neither keys nor holes. They must have fallen out in the truck or maybe I left them at the hospital with my regular clothes.
The most pessimistic corner of my brain wonders if I’ll need them after tonight. David would keep the apartment if we broke up. I can’t afford my share of rent as it is.
I knock lightly on the apartment door.
What if David isn’t here? What if he got a hotel room or is sleeping off his anger on his brother’s couch? I’m about to head back to the lobby to get the spare from the front desk when David opens the door. He’s wearing his chinos from this morning and an untucked white undershirt. He looks wide awake despite the hour. His hair stands on end like he’s been raking his hands through it over and over.
Instinct takes over and I launch myself at him, wrapping him in a suffocating hug. I cling to him like if I can physically hold on to him, he can’t leave me. Even if he broke up with me, he’d have to carry me around like a barnacle, stuck to him for the rest of his days. I sag with relief when he hugs me back and presses a series of quick kisses into my hairline.
“Where have you been?” he asks. “I was so worried. You called me fifteen times, didn’t leave a message, and then wouldn’t pick up your phone. I thought there had been some kind of emergency.”
“My phone is dead.” I let go of him and hold up my phone to prove the veracity of my statement.
“Are you okay?” His voice is thick with concern.
“I’m fine. Everyone’s fine,” I answer, before remembering that’s not strictly true. “Actually, Priya’s in the hospital—”
“Oh my god! What happened?”
“She fell ice-skating. Broken leg, but she’ll be alright.”
“Is that where you were?”
“I was in Connecticut.”
“Connecticut? Why were you there? I’ve been back since seven thirty. I didn’t see your calls because I fell asleep on the couch.” I suppress the urge to laugh. David was here all this time. He got home before we even left the hospital. Tonight was all a wild goose chase.
“I went to your parents’ house. I needed to see you, in person, to apologize. David, I’m so sorry, I’ve been such an idiot. Not just this morning, for months. And you deserve so much better than me, but I love you and I want to love you better, if you’ll let me. I should have been there today. If spending Christmas with your family is important to you, then it’s important to me, too. I should have realized it sooner, but I promise I’ll be there next year.”
“Hannah,” he starts. Then heaves a big sigh. “I don’t want to be second-best. I don’t want spending Christmas with me to be some consolation prize after Finn leaves and you don’t have a better offer.” He doesn’t sound mad, he sounds sad.
“That’s not . . . ,” I begin, before realizing that’s exactly how it sounds.
All at once the fear that our fight has already gone too far hits me square in the chest. I wonder where the uncrossable line in our relationship is, the one that marks a step too far for his forgiveness. Worse, I wonder if I accidentally wandered past it these last few months without even knowing, blind in the haze of my own stubbornness.
With that realization I forget how to breathe. My breath comes out in quick, jagged pants. David gathers me into his chest. He smooths my hair and makes quiet shushing noises. “Breathe,” he tells me. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I’m not okay, I’m an idiot,” I whine miserably.
He laughs next to my ear.
A laugh is good. People don’t usually laugh during breakups.
I pull away from him and we stand staring at each other in the front hallway. It feels crucial for me to make him understand how serious I am. About him, about us.
“You’re not a consolation prize. Not at all. I realized today that I think I was holding on to Christmas because of Brooke—”
“Brooke? You haven’t spent Christmas with her in years.”
“Exactly. I always thought Brooke abandoned our family. That she bailed as soon as something better came along and put me and our parents in the past. At least, I thought she did. Some new information has come to light there, but I can only handle one apology at a time. The point is, I guess it made me want to not abandon Finn and Theo and Priya and our traditions. I know you don’t get it, but they’re family to me, too.”
He reaches for my hand and weaves our fingers together. He looks down at them as he speaks. “I know they are, and I’m not asking you to give them up. I know how important they are to you. And I love how passionate and loyal you are when it comes to your friends.” He looks at me, his expression open and vulnerable. “I’m just asking you to put me first. Not all the time, but sometimes. It’s not really about Christmas. I don’t care where we spend Christmas. We can spend it in a dive bar or in the desert or on the moon. As long as we’re together.” He squeezes my hand for emphasis, then adds, “Unless we have kids. Then we kind of have to spend Christmas with my family or my mom would flip.”
“We can do that,” I tell him. “I want to spend Christmas with you. I’m not just saying that.” Now I understand why grand gestures exist. I want to make him understand that this is not lip service. This isn’t an empty promise I plan to forget about in the next 364 days. This is real. I wish I had a skywriter or a fireworks display in the shape of a heart or a picnic of all of his favorite foods to prove to him the depth of my love.
My eyes lock onto a bag of sourdough bread in a ceramic bowl on the kitchen island.
I walk toward it pulling David with me and remove the twist tie that seals the bag.
“What are you doing?” David asks, confused by the break in our conversation and my seemingly sudden, overpowering need for toast.
I turn back to him and drop to one knee. I haven’t thought this through at all, but it feels right. My bright red gown pools on the floor around me. I look up at him and try to telegraph all the love I feel for him right now. “David?” I ask.
“Yes . . .” His lips curve into a surprised smile.
“I want you to know that I’m in this. I want Saturdays at the greenmarket and Sunday mornings doing the crossword together. I want to get you your favorite ramen before a big work presentation, and I want to know what’s next after you finally master your at-home pizza recipe. And I want to finally go on that trip to Italy. But most of all, I want you. I want you to be my family, too. Will you marry me?”
“Yes, I already told you yes.” There are tears in his eyes as I wrap the twist tie around his ring finger. He pulls me up to standing and gathers me in his arms. Then he lowers his lips to mine. It’s a kiss that holds promise for a lifetime of future kisses—a kiss that’s leading somewhere.
He pulls back for a second to say, “I love you so fucking much, Hannah,” before he backs me against the kitchen island. I pull his lower lip into my mouth and give it a playful bite. His hands fall to my ass and lift me onto the counter. I wrap my legs around his waist as his tongue brushes past my lips.