I.

Kit reached over and patted the bed, expecting the find the warmth of Angus still there. Without moving her body, she turned her head to verify with her eyes what her questing hand had already told her. A little morning friskin’ was highly in order, but Angus was absent. Shoot.

She rolled over on her back and looked dully at the ceiling. This was the first completely sober Christmas morning she could remember having in a long, long while. Instead of the usual hazy bleared memories of what had happened the night before, she knew exactly what had gone on. Down to the smallest detail, she thought with a wicked smile. Sobriety had many fringe benefits.

She glanced at the clock. 6:47. She flipped back the covers and stood, stretching luxuriously like a cat. She listened at the doorway for the sound of the shower running. Nothing. She wandered into the kitchen. Empty.

She went through to the living room tentatively, expecting the worst. Next to the twinkly lights of their miniature tree sat Angus, with a tray of whipped cream-topped cocoa and sugar cookies on the coffee table. He smiled that sweet, earnest smile she loved at her and stood, crossing the room and taking her hand.

"What’s all this?" Kit asked happily surprised and secretly thankful he hadn’t done anything as cheesy as she had been anticipating. I don’t give him nearly enough credit, she thought to herself. He’s actually pretty amazing.

He led her to her seat, settling her on the couch and, disappeared through the doorway, returning a few moments later with a guitar over his shoulder, softly strumming the opening chords to a melody she recognized instantly. It was the same one he had been humming, whistling, and singing little snatches of for weeks. It had driven her to distraction, and every time she had chided him about it, he had apologized and smiled mysteriously when she asked him what that song was. Kit felt tears spring to her eyes as her unlikely troubadour sang a bittersweet song with lyrics that were obviously about her. His love for her was in every word, and when he finished, there were tears in his eyes, too. He took the guitar from his shoulder and locked eyes with her again.