Matrimony Homies

43: Celebration (Harry)

Strolling through the Knutsford Christmas Market with my girlfriend holding my hand brings me almost as much joy as when we arrive at the Rapier Wit booth. My jaw drops. How had she done this? It takes months to get a booth in the market.

"BOSS! Business is booming. This was a brilliant marketing move," yells a member of her team, and I'm chuffed to spy four of her employees selling gin hand over fist to the market visitors. Loren releases my hand, hugging Mum before returning to me. When she grasps my hand this time, it's to physically yank me behind the booth where a panel truck of Rapier Wit gin is parked.

"Loren, what are you doing?" I whisper as she twirls me so that my back is plastered against the vehicle.

"Acknowledging the love I have," she replies as she stands on tiptoe and presses her lips to mine.

She tastes of happiness, a rare occurrence for her, and gingerbread from the last vendor where Gemma had purchased a packet of biscuits for us all to share. I'm thrilled to enjoy a kiss with this wonderful woman, and when she unzips my parka and slides her mittened hands around to my arse, I am only slightly shocked at this public display of affection before she opens her mouth and invites me in. Fuck me. I'm in heaven. Our tongues brush over each other, and the gingerbread flavour is even more pronounced.

Something has shifted between us, and I'm unsure what it is. Maybe sharing our relationship status with Mum and Gems had a bigger impact than expected. Shoving all thoughts to the back of my brain, I gift myself this moment with her, not thinking about anything else.

Until a throat behind us clears.

Rather than jerking away from me, Loren takes her time backing away from where she's held me a willing captive. Her eyes bore into mine, and I recognise the emotion there because I've felt it multiple times.

"I love you," she announces, her entire attention focused on me, and the person next to us draws in a breath with a little squeak that I know belongs to my mum before her footsteps move away.

"Lor –" I reach out to slide her hair behind her ear but her knit hat is in the way, so I grasp the yarn in my hand and pull it to the side so that I can do what I want, wrapping those strands behind her ear. Oxygen enters my lungs in gasps, and I know the answer to her statement. Without hesitation, I proclaim, "I love you, too." My eyes can't stop following hers, fearful that she'll run away now that she's said the words out loud. But she's steady as a rock, not moving. Her chest heaves with the passion of our kiss, and her lips are red and chapped – from the cold or our kiss. It doesn't matter which.

"Well," she grins, "sorry that took me so long to say."

"I knew you felt it," I reveal. "But I was waiting for you to be ready to say and hear the words."

"Some girls would want to hear it first from the guy," she prods.

"You're not 'some girls'," I push back. "You are purely Loren." It seems like the right thing to say, and I'm rewarded with another grin and a shorter, less passionate kiss.

Surveying me, she 'tsks' with her tongue, reaching out to zip my parka again. "It's freezing out, Harry. You'll catch a cold with this open."

"Now why didn't I think of that?" My murmured words bring a smile to both of our lips, which reminds me of her chapped ones. "Looks like we need to find you some lip balm." Holding her chin with my thumb and middle finger, I brush my pointer finger over the dry skin. Her breath catches in her throat, and our breaths mingle visibly in the chilly air before I lower my head for one more soft kiss.

"And you need a scarf. Can't have that throat being damaged."

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I escort Loren back to the main drag where Mum is waiting impatiently, her smile wider than the Amazon River. Stepping to us, she places her gloved hands on Loren's face, rubbing her nose against Loren's in a gesture of love and happiness. When she repeats the gesture with me, the colours of the world are suddenly brighter.