my salvation (chris evans)

chapter twenty seven - it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

It's early December. The grass is beginning to get frosty and the air is cold, which means the house is super cosy and warm with the heating on. Both Chris and I love this time of year when you can curl up on the sofa with blankets, in front of the fire, watching cartoons — which is exactly what I've done while Chris takes Dodger for a walk.

While I watch cartoons, I scroll through my phone, looking at Instagram and Twitter. That's when I see a Tweet of his, in response to Ana De Armas, one of his co-workers from Knives Out. He wrote 'I think it's safe to say you wear it better than I would have'. Furrowing my eyebrows, I click on Ana's tweet and read that; 'That was weird... anyway, what I wanted to say is... GO SEE knivesout ! 🤮Also, thanks Chris for the sweater.' There's a link to an instagram post and when I click on it, it takes me to a photo of her wearing the 'eat shit' sweater Chris got gifted to him in an interview. It looks like she's just wearing the sweater, nothing else. My stomach churns. I can't peel my eyes away. She looks gorgeous. Why has she got his sweater? Why did he give it to her? I go back to Twitter and start reading the thread - I can't stop myself. People suggest they're flirting. Oh no. No, no, no. He's not flirting. He's with me. He loves me. He's engaged to me.

Don't overthink this. Don't.

That's when I hear the front door click open and the scuttle of Dodger's paws against the flooring. I gulp, quickly locking my phone and trying to compose myself. Dodger runs in, shortly followed by Chris. I flash him a smile as he grins.

"Hey, you — looking very cosy." He chirps, before collapsing onto the sofa next to me and dropping his arm behind me.

"Right—yeah—" He glances at me, furrowing his eyebrows. Shit.

"Are you okay?"

"For sure!" I can't let him know that this has bothered me. I can't get insecure again. He'll think I can't hack this lifestyle.

"Meg," He gives me that look and I gulp, trying not to make eye contact. "Has something happened?"

"N-No... course not. What could have p-possibly happened?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Nothing has happened. It's just... well, I w-was wondering about th-that sw-sweater you were given in an interview n-not that long ago..."

"The 'eat shit' one?" I nod.

"Haven't s-seen you wear it yet."

"Ana reeeaaally loved it, so I just let her have it." He tells me, with no hesitation at all. He then smiles slightly. "You saw the tweet, didn't you? That's what you're worked up about?" Shit. I sigh, glancing down.

"I'm not worked up..."

"Mhmmm, not at all." He says, giving me those eyes. I smile uncontrollably, sighing again.

"I just... got confused. I open this link to see this beautiful, st-stunning w-woman wearing your sweater, and like, nothing else—" I mumble, and he takes my hand.

"Meg, what's this?" He asks, nodding to the ring on my finger. Again, I smile.

"It's an engagement ring..."

"Mhm, and why do you have an engagement ring?"

"Chris,"

"No, c'mon, say it. I think you've forgotten."

"I haven't f-forgotten."

"Then tell me." He says with a smile.

"Because you proposed to me."