“Wasn’t me, Sweet Pea.” Standing next to the fireplace, Eli clears his throat and shoves his hands in his jeans. “Whitney told me when we dated that Grammy P used to put oranges and Brach’s tree candy in your stockings. I checked and didn’t see any in there, so I—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish because I climb him like a tree, tears stinging my eyes before I kiss the ever-loving hell out of him. Surprised, he lifts me into his arms and kisses me back fully, his hands on the sides of my face. With my elf slippers hooked around his waist, I pepper his jaw with kisses, knowing everyone is
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This man! Crying again
