Never Bargain with the Boss (Never Say Never Book 5)
Never Bargain with the Boss: Chapter 31

And this one’s for you,” Grace says, passing out the presents. “And you, and you.”

The whole family has gathered at Mom and Dad’s for Christmas, the same way we always do. But this is a first because Riley is here.

She doesn’t have as many painful memories of Christmas as she did of Thanksgiving, explaining that people tend to be more generous for the holiday, and the kids would go to various parties put on by charitable sponsors and receive gifts from angel trees. She also remembers a Christmas or two with her mom, who apparently always let little Riley pick their tree at the lot.

When I heard that, I arranged an outing to a tree farm last week, where Grace and I let Riley choose our tree. She’d walked the rows for over an hour, looking for the right one, and when we got it home, she cried when we set it up, calling it the prettiest tree she’s ever seen. I agree with her—it is pretty, not because it’s big or full or covered in ornaments, but because it’s ours.

It’s still not quite on the level of the Christmas magic Mom creates. But not many things are. She always goes all out with lights, trees—yes, plural because there at least four, a figurine village display, garlands, a pair of seven-foot-tall nutcrackers by the door, and more. She and Ira spend weeks getting it all set up and then will spend just as long packing it all away.

For all the fanciness, my favorite tree is the one in the family room where we are now. It’s the one Mom does strictly by herself, placing each sentimental ornament carefully. Her gentle care is the only reason the popsicle stick snowman from my kindergarten class party has survived. The same is true for countless other imperfect, messily assembled, and marker-date noted pieces from each of her kids.

Grace finishes passing all the presents out, and we all look around to see who’s going to start. We’re one of those families that passes everything at once but then watches while each present is opened one at a time so we can ooh and aah over everything. As a kid, it was absolute, pure torture. Now, I enjoy it.

Opening gifts this way also means we all get to watch Riley excitedly rip open each and every perfectly wrapped box. I conspired with my daughter this time, and the present we got Riley is at the bottom of her stack so that she’ll open it last. But Grace is getting impatient. Honestly, so am I.

“Your turn, Riley-Miley-Ding-Dong!” Grace exclaims, grabbing for the small box from us both.

Riley laughs. “Not sure that’s it either.”

They are still actively trying out names for Grace to call Riley, which has led to weeks of increasingly creative combinations. Honestly, I think they’ll settle on Mom, and I’m shockingly okay with that. I think Michelle would be too. Grace never called Michelle that when she was alive. Back then, she was Momma or Mommy because Grace was so young. It wasn’t until she was much older, and long after Michelle had passed, that Grace transitioned to calling her Mom because that’s what her friends called their mothers. So if Grace and Riley do indeed land on Mom, I’ll accept that happily, but I’m not going to put any pressure on them while they’re having so much fun trying out silly names.

“It’s from us, me and Dad!” Grace tells her. She’s nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement and Riley is already smiling as she glances back and forth from Grace to me.

She freezes for a second, and I can see her intentionally and fully appreciating the moment before she rips into the red and green plaid wrapping paper. Inside, there’s a wooden jewelry box the size of a photograph but about two inches thick.

Riley peeks up at me and then opens the box.

I know what she’s looking at, but in case there was any doubt, Grace announces, “It’s a charm necklace!”

“Oh, my goodness,” Riley breaths, her fingers dancing lightly over the charms. “It’s gorgeous.” She picks it up, examining it even closer, and I tell her the history of the chunky, double-layered, chain-link gold necklace with dozens of charms on it, knowing that she, of all people, will appreciate it.

“I wanted to get you the loudest piece of jewelry I could find. There’s even a tiny bell charm so it literally jingles as you walk.” Riley, who was starting to tear up, laughs at that, and my family chuckles too, not understanding the significance of her loud jewelry but knowing that Riley’s clinging and clanging is an undeniable part of her charm. “I found it on an auction site. The previous owner collected the charms over the years to commemorate important milestones. There’s a dove, a baby shoe, a piano, an Eiffel tower, some gems that are probably birthstones, the state of Colorado, and more. I left it the way it was, unpolished, because I didn’t know if you’d prefer it with the patina of the life it’s led or want it fresh and clean. But I bought the polish and can do that if you want?”

As I guessed she would, she grasps the necklace to her chest and tells me, “No, I love it just like this.” The tears are back, slowly streaming down her cheeks, but she’s smiling so big that I can see her little fang tooth. Fuck, I love that thing. Such a small, tiny piece of who she is, but each of those little details makes her special. Just like the charms on this necklace.

“Can I put it on you?”

She nods and whirls, holding her hair out of the way for me. I quickly fasten the clasp and then she turns back around, glancing up at me. “How does it look?”

“Beautiful,” I tell her honestly, though I’m not talking about the necklace, but rather, her.

She beams and looks around the room, letting everyone else see the necklace. Mom even comes over to take a closer look, which is all part of the plan. “It’s lovely on you, honey,” Mom tells her.

When Riley turns around, I hold up another box, this one the size of a credit card. “There’s more.”

“Oh, it’s someone else’s turn,” she tries to argue, pointing at the presents at other people’s feet, but no one is taking this moment from her. At everyone’s encouragement, she relents and opens the second gift too. “It’s a bracelet,” she says, her smile still just as bright as she traces the links of the chain.

“The necklace is about the past, a life lived. This is for you to fill with charms to commemorate your own milestones,” I tell her. “It’s for the future. But I cheated and already put the first one on there so you could start now.”

She runs the pad of her finger over the tiny diamond charm. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” Riley whispers.

I move from the couch to kneel in front of her, pulling the last piece of the present from my pocket. This thing has been weighing me down for a week and I’ve almost given it to her at least a dozen times already, but I waited for this moment right here, needing it to be perfect for her. I hold up the ring, the gold band marked by three marquis-cut stones that I thought did a great job of symbolizing Riley, Grace, and me because this proposal is a blending of all three of us into one family.

Riley gasps, her hands clapping over her mouth, as she instantly catches on to what’s happening.

“I was lost, broken, just going through the motions until you came into my life and shook everything up in terrifying ways, in painful ways, but mostly, in the absolute best of ways. You saved me from myself, urging me to heal wounds I’ve ignored for too long, and making me want to be better. I’m still getting there, but I will . . . I’ll get better every day, for you.” I make that vow, fully intending to see it through. Riley has already done so much work on herself, healing the damage and scars life has given her, and now, it’s time for me to do the same, to be worthy of her.

“I want to be your safety, your security, your peace. I want you to know that you always have a home in my heart and a place in my arms, and never doubt that for a second, because our brokenness fits together like perfect, jagged pieces. I want to build a life with you, standing together against every storm, celebrating every rainbow, and appreciating every day in between.”

I look at the ring in my hand and the bracelet in hers, explaining the tiny charm, “I wanted to commemorate the moment I ask you, Riley Stefano, to be my wife. It doesn’t have to be right away. I can wait as long as you want, but when you’re ready, I’m ready. I love you, now, and will love you forever.”

“Psst, Dad… you didn’t really ask. None of that was a question,” Grace stage-whispers.

Riley, who’s crying freely now, laughs as she glances at Grace. Turning her eyes back to me, she shrugs. “She has a point.”

I shake my head, not sure how I got into a two-against-one situation, but I wouldn’t change it even if I could. “Will you marry me?”

Riley nods and says yes at the same time. Then she says it again. “Yes!” She jumps into my arms, kissing me excitedly.

As planned, Grace throws a handful of gold confetti into the air, letting it shower down over Riley and me in a cloud of metallic flakes.

Riley gasps, taking her lips from mine as she looks at the sparkles all around—and all over—us. “Confetti? I love confetti!” she exclaims, like she’s telling me this for the first time. But she’s not. I remember, from the first time we talked. She said she loved it, and I thought it sounded awful. It turns out she was right because I’d clean up this mess a thousand times just to see this happiness on her face.

Everyone claps and cheers for us as I slip the ring onto her finger, even Dad, who expressed his concern about the speed with which I’m moving but ultimately trusts me. And even if he didn’t, I’d smile and nod and do whatever the hell I want like always, and we both know it. As expected, Mom is already talking about spring venues versus summer venues, planning a wedding for like six months from now.

Which is fine if that’s what Riley wants. Hell, I’d let one of my siblings get internet-ordained and do it right now if she wanted. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I bet Kyle would do it in a heartbeat.

“Not sure the new paintbrush set I got Luna is gonna compare now. Thanks for ruining it for the rest of us, man,” Carter taunts. But I’m too happy to let his sarcastic poking bother me.

“If it’s the red sable one she’s been talking about, you’re good,” Mom tells him. Luna and Mom have gotten into the habit of talking about various artists and techniques since Mom picked up her watercolor hobby. But even without that, Mom listens and probably knows what each of us have on our Christmas wish lists.

Well, I only have one thing on mine, and I’ve already gotten it.

Riley.


Later that night, I make love to Riley while she wears nothing but the ring, bracelet, and necklace, and maybe a few remaining bits of glittery confetti. The light of the Christmas tree paints her in a warm, colorful glow and she looks right at home in our bed. Yes, we have a second tree in our bedroom. Riley wanted it, and I certainly wasn’t going to say no. But truthfully, I like it. It makes the magic of the season the first thing we see when we wake up in each other’s arms and the last thing we see when we snuggle into bed each night.

“Merry Christmas, Riley,” I tell her, driving into her slow and deep.

“Ho, ho, ho,” she chants, but the last one goes a little high-pitched as her eyes start to roll.

And I’ve gotten all I ever wanted.

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