Oblivion (Completed)

Ryan

Present Day

"So what do you think?" Henley's eyes sparkle up at me from beneath the thick branches of our Christmas tree. I hate to break it to her, but I'm not looking at the tree. My eyes are stuck on her. She's gorgeous laid out below it with her hair spread across the red tree skirt. Her eyes glow with child-like excitement as she runs her fingers on the short, smooth pine needles and moves an ornament from branch to branch until she finds the perfect place. I swear she's doing her Feng Shui on the tree now, too.

We've been decorating it for almost an hour, but I think she could probably go all night. I strung up the lights outside last night and she's been in full-blown holiday mode since the sky turned dark and she stood before the colorful glow.

"Maybe we need a few more ornaments," she says. The crazy part is she's serious. I'm all about the Christmas cheer, but this poor tree is waving the white flag. It's sturdy, but Henley's plans for it are far more than it can handle. It's practically begging me to reign her in, but she's too damn adorable to not pick her side. Sorry, Mr. Douglas Fir.

"And I think if we put even one more ornament on this thing, the whole thing's going to give out," I smirk. She arches an eyebrow to try to look offended, but she can't keep a straight face for long.

"You're no fun," she says teasingly.

"Yes I am," I counter with a wink. Her mischievous smile tells me she knows I'm referring to earlier, and so I drain the rest of my wine before I can think of her naked and wrapped in a big red bow under that tree.

Oops. Too late.

"Come here," she calls with a little wave.

I set my empty wine glass down on the end table with hers and turn the volume up on the radio. We've had the holiday music on since we woke up, so this is probably at least the fifth version of this song I've heard today. But I don't mind. If she's going to keep smiling like that, I'll gladly listen to it twenty more.

Once I've got everything situated, I settle in beside her. I haven't been beneath a Christmas tree since I was about 10, and I'm hit with a wave of wonderful nostalgia from the strong scent of pine. It seems like just yesterday Harlow and I curled up under our big tree at home when we were 6, convinced if we slept there we'd see Santa Claus. I may be grown with a home and tree of my own, but the moment is no less magical with Henley by my side.

I lace my fingers in hers and we stare up at the tiny, twinkling white and blue lights. She squeezes my hand once, but we're quiet for the entire song. I'm filled with hundreds of memories of lying beside her in her hospital bed while she slept, holding her hand and praying for some Christmas miracle. Squeezing her hand and hoping so badly she would just squeeze back to let me know she felt it. To let me know she loves me too.

And now she can.

When the song is through, she lets out a breath as if it's affected her too, then turns toward me. Her eyes shimmer with curiosity and I already know what's running through her head. I reach up to bring her hair front of her shoulder and pick a few stray pine needles from the thick brown waves.

"What do you say we put a hold on the decorating and finish off that bottle of wine?" It's almost 9 pm on a Saturday night. I don't intend for the night to end anytime soon, and when it does, I'd be more than happy falling into bed a little fuzzy with my gorgeous wife.

She nods, and once we've scooted out from beneath the tree, she plops on the couch while I pour us refills. She takes a sip and folds one leg under her, making herself comfortable for what seems like a very nice evening ahead.

"Thanks for going along with all the crazy decorating the last few days," she says. "When I was a kid, my parents paid someone to put up our artificial tree and decorate it. I guess I'm just playing catch up," she sips her wine. I can tell her head is threatening to cloud with dark memories of her childhood so I'm desperate to keep the moment happy and light.