Page 203 of Tangled with the Tight End

I set it on the couch next to me. Declan stands back, smiling and crossing his arms.

I carefully loosen the ribbon, letting the clear wrap fall away.

The book in the basket catches my eye right away. Theo of Golden.

“I’ve been wanting this book,” I say, looking over at Declan. “How did you know?”

He closes his eyes and when he opens them, he looks like a little boy. “I asked Cass for help.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“I wanted it to be perfect.”

“It’s better than perfect,” I tell him.

“How is it better? I outsourced Christmas—like my parents do.”

“No, Declan. You cared enough to make sure you got it right.”

He smiles. “And did I?”

“You got it so right.” I pull out the rest of the gifts from the basket—lotions, perfume, chocolates, a mug, more Cuban coffee, a fluffy blanket, and a Tennessee Thunder mascot plushie.

“Thank you, Declan. This is all so perfect. Now grab that box.” I point to my gift.

He picks up one of the three boxes I brought and carries it over, settling into the chair next to the couch.

He tears at the paper and lifts the lid, holding up a Thunder football jersey with the number eighty-eight and his name on the back.

He holds it up to his chest and says, “This definitely won't fit me.”

“I know,” I smile. “It's not for you. My gift will be me wearing it in the stands at every one of your home games.”

“That’s the only gift I want,” he says.

He glances toward the front door.

“Declan, forget about the people trying to intrude.”

“It’s hard to forget when I have to stand by and watch it take a toll on you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. He’s not wrong. Living with people stalking my house and saying awful things about me online has been hard. I just don’t want them to win. I want this first Christmas to be magical—one we’ll remember forever.

Declan opens my next gift. It’s a framed photo of us together. One he didn't know I took.

“If you need more photos of us, there are a number to choose from now,” I joke.

“Not funny,” he says.

“It’s a little funny.”

His next gift to me is in a medium-sized box. I open it and gasp. “A snorkel?”

“To use in St. Thomas.”

I stand and throw my arms around his neck. He tugs me onto his lap and kisses me.

We spend the rest of the afternoon together, snuggled up by the fire. When I drive out of Declan’s neighborhood, no one is following me. But when I pull up in front of my home, a few cars I don’t recognize are out front. I tell myself they’re here for the neighbors. But then I see a man with a camera.