Epilogue to this year to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special.
The first half contains smut. My Christmas gift to you 😂
"Too much champagne," Taylor murmurs. She's dizzy, lighter than air. The bubbly and the hot chocolate laced with Bailey's may have been overkill; the room feels slightly off kilter. She isn't drunk, but between the alcohol and the happy buzz of getting engaged, she's feeling no pain right now.
Travis's got her slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and they're both giddy, giggling when he opens the door to the bedroom and shushes himself with a finger to his lips.
The entire night feels like a dream. The only proof it actually happened is the stunning ring on her left hand. The way it catches the light in every room makes her incredibly happy, but nothing more so than the beautiful man that gave it to her.
A beautiful man that's going to be her husband. I'm going to have a husband, she reminds herself. I'll be Trav's wife.
The notion makes her want to shout from the fucking rooftops and as he lays her down with a soft landing on the bed, she flings her arms around his neck, grateful that he's hers.
They bump foreheads when he goes to kiss her and that makes them more giggly. Coordination doesn't seem to be in their wheelhouse tonight, but it's okay, makes it more tender, somehow.
"I still can't believe you pulled this off," she says, pulling him on top of her. "The whole thing probably should be in a fucking book for perfect proposals. You set the standard."
"Would you believe if it if I told you I almost didn't?" He laughs. "Can't even tell you how many times I almost blew it."
"Yeah, looking back, you were super sus," Taylor admits, an eyebrow raised. "The hockey stick just about sent me. The fucking pizza?! The kids asking to play pickleball when it's freezing? Oh, my God, perfection."
"I suck at surprises."
He's serious, she realizes, instantly, guilty for teasing. "No way. All of that touch and go stuff made my heart obliterate, Trav. It just showed me how hard you worked to plan everything. I swear to you, I couldn't think of anything more perfect than how you asked me to marry you. And even though I thought you all were possessed with how weird you were acting, I honestly had no idea you were going to propose. Not tonight."
She's babbling. She knows she is. Half of it's the nice, healthy buzz she's got going on, the other half because this marks the most romantic gesture in the history of romantic gestures (and he's done many, too many to count) and she's flying.
"Least I didn't fuck up that part," he grins and she reaches up to kiss him, tugging him towards her by the collar of his sweater.
"You." Her lips go to his neck, tracing the three letters against his jugular, "are. fucking. amazing. And I'm not going to let you think otherwise."
He moans as her teeth scrape along the vein. "Raincheck time?"
"Mhmm, you know it." She goes back up to capture his mouth, curling her legs across the small of his back.
He tastes like the Bailey's and she feels herself smiling into the kiss, enjoying the sensation of his mouth warm on hers, his tongue, how those damn hands work their magic on her body, stroking a pattern down her shoulders until he's palming her breasts under her blouse, his thumbs grazing over her nipples gently (maybe too gently) before she arches her back with an elongated moan.
"Harder."
Travis's eyes go dark and he smiles, halfway between a smirk and a wolfish grin, just the corners of his lips curling up. The power shift turns her on so much; how she'll be in control; he'll let her and then somewhere along the way, the tables will turn, but it's never when she expects it.
