Merry Me

by C.R. Jane

This was public foreplay, and he was thriving. Meanwhile, I was seconds from jumping off the stage and hiding behind the bar with nothing but a bottle of vodka and a plate of reindeer-shaped cookies to comfort me. The song

“You’re a badass bitch, Natalie,” I whispered to myself. “You don’t cry in alleys over boys. You cry in bathrooms like a lady.”

I couldn’t help it, I traced the stubble on his face, a brief thought flickering through my head, wondering how the man in front of me would compare with the boy he’d been. How much more experience he had… Don’t think about that, Natalie!

“Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Tell me when this is supposed to leave my system, Natalie, because fuck knows I’ve tried.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling back just far enough to look into my eyes, his voice wrecked. “I can’t believe you made me live without this.”

“I’d just like to state for the record,” I huffed against his lips, breathless. “This is a new kink I’m discovering, so bear with me as I come to grips with the fact that I am apparently…into Santa Claus.”

Fuck. Forget Santa-kink. My unfortunate real kink was everything Easton Maddox.

“You can pretend this means nothing,” he panted, leaning over me so that his mouth brushed my ear. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But you’re mine, Natalie. You always have been. And I’m not walking away this time.”

“I think you were made just for me,” he said, his voice so sure it scared me more than anything else in the world. My breath caught. My heart stuttered and then thundered, slamming against my ribs like it wanted to leap right into his hands. “Easton…” He didn’t give me time to say more. Maybe he knew I’d try to ruin it with logic or fear or something else that had nothing to do with him. “You’re my one, Natalie. I’ve always known it. And I won’t mess it up.” I hadn’t said anything then. But I’d never forgotten it. Not his voice. Not that night. Not the way his hand held mine like it belonged there. Not for a single heartbeat since.

“Yes, then I met Steve. And I realized that loving someone isn’t what hurts. Loving the wrong person—that’s what leaves the bruises.”

“Because I promise, Nat. No matter what happens, I’ll find you. Always. Even if we’re on opposite ends of the world. Even if we lose touch or get lost or…or hurt each other. I’ll come back. I’ll always come back to you.”

“Easton,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I searched for the words, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. “I…I promise, too. I’ll always find you. No matter what.” I swallowed hard, my eyes filling with tears as I let the words I’d been holding back spill out, the words I’d known were true for years but had been too scared to say. And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world…I said it.

“I love you.” His eyes widened just a little, and then his whole face transformed. The grin that spread across his lips was slow and breathtaking and so full of wonder that I felt it down to my bones. “I love you too, Nat,” he whispered, his forehead dropping to mine. Then he kissed me.

I didn’t need to turn. My entire bloodstream recognized Easton Maddox the second he entered the rink. It was like my hormones were on high alert. Code red: panty dropper incoming.

“Go on, girl,” MeMaw said as she passed by, giving me a knowing nudge with her elbow. “Wish for what you really want. And none of that vague ‘peace on Earth’ crap.” I snorted. “You’re terrifying.” She winked, the reindeer ears on her glasses bouncing as she moved toward the snack table. I grabbed a star and a pen, my fingers steady now. No second-guessing. No overthinking. I wrote one sentence. To never lose him again. The wish felt raw, vulnerable, like I was laying my heart bare for the universe to see, but it was the truth.

“To tell you my wish,” he murmured. My pulse quickened, my voice barely a whisper. “Yeah?” He nodded slowly, eyes steady on mine. “I wished to spend every Christmas with you.”

“Every Christmas. Every day in between. I want it all with you, Trouble.” My eyes stung, emotion swelling suddenly…fiercely. “Easton…” “I’ve never stopped loving you,” he said quietly, his voice thick and raw, eyes locked intently on mine. “And I never will.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered. “I just got a little lost for a while. But it was always you.”

“I’ve loved you for half my life,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m going to love you for all the rest of it.” The words hit something deep. Something old and aching and sacred. “Promise?” I whispered, not because I didn’t believe him—but because once, under a sky full of invented constellations and teenage bravado, we’d made that same vow. Said we’d find each other, no matter what. His eyes softened, something flickering behind them—memory, emotion, the weight of everything we’d been. “Still do,” he said quietly. “Always will.” A laugh broke from me, wet and quiet. “You said you’d come back to me.” He stepped closer, brushing his fingers along my jaw, reverent. “And you said you’d find me. No matter what.” I nodded, tears catching in the corners of my eyes as I whispered the only thing that felt true enough. “I love you.”

“Forever,” he said, pulling me in, his voice fierce and full. “Every sky. Every season. Every version of us.” And when he kissed me, I felt the stars shift. Our star. Our promise. Finally found again.

Then my fingers brushed against something soft and unfamiliar. I paused. There, tucked in the side pocket, hidden beneath a balled-up scarf…was a small velvet box. Deep blue. Elegant. And definitely not mine. A tremble worked its way through me as I pulled it out. I turned it over in my hands, my heart thudding, trying to make sense of it. The hinge creaked softly as I opened it. Inside sat a delicate silver necklace, the pendant shaped like a constellation. Our constellation. The one we’d imagined on a summer night with too many mosquitoes and not enough sense. The same one we’d been thinking of just last week, when everything came full circle beneath the snow and starlight and everything we couldn’t say until we finally did. The pendant shimmered in the light—quiet, certain, sacred.

Easton had chosen me. Again and again. Through the explosion of his career. Through the miles. Through every single excuse I’d hidden behind. Come find me under our stars. The words weren’t just sweet. They were a challenge. A promise. A plea.

And I was ready to accept it. He was in L.A., filming, living in that shiny world I’d always felt too small for. But he’d left this—this beautiful, quiet, perfect gift—just to show me that the most important part of his life wasn’t on set or behind a camera. It was me. And I wasn’t going to make him wait another second to know I felt the same.

I wanted to propose to him. To ask him to be mine, forever. To build the life we’d whispered about under summer skies, young and in love and dreaming way too big.

Marry Me, Easton! For a second, I just stared…jaw slack, heart pounding, brain trying to catch up. Then a laugh burst out of me, sharp and full and so stunned it made a few heads turn. Because Natalie hated glittery signs. She mocked glittery signs. She had once said they were the handwriting of emotional chaos. And now she was holding one. For me. Shock and disbelief and relief tangled in my chest, but so did something warmer and wilder…because I knew exactly what this meant. This wasn’t just a grand gesture. This was her grand gesture. The woman I loved was standing in a crowd of strangers, holding up everything she usually rolled her eyes at, choosing me in the loudest, most gloriously Natalie way possible. I’d never seen anything more perfect.

“You once told me love was just a chemical reaction,” Easton said, his voice low and steady. “That it faded or burned out or exploded. That it wouldn’t last.” My throat went tight. My heart was beating far too fast. Because I remembered saying that. I remembered believing it. “And maybe back then,” he continued, “you were too young to believe in forever. Maybe you needed to protect your heart more than I needed to convince you otherwise. So I let you believe it.” His hand reached out, slow and reverent, and his fingers brushed the silver chain at my neck—the tiny constellation pendant now resting over my heart. My breath caught. “But, Nat,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the stars, “if love really is a reaction, then you’ve been the spark in every single one of mine. Every laugh. Every fight. Every godforsaken moment I’ve missed you.” He took a shaky breath, and when his eyes met mine, they held galaxies. “I used to wish for this,” he said quietly. “When I thought I’d lost you for good. I’d lie

awake and picture you—older, somewhere out in the world—and wonder if you still remembered that night in the truck.” My throat tightened. Because of course I remembered. Every second. “You looked up at the stars like they were the only thing that made sense,” he went on. “And when I told you I thought you were my one…you didn’t say anything.” His smile flickered. Familiar and aching. With something deeper than memory. “But I meant it. I still mean it. And I don’t need stars or fate or anything else to tell me. I just need you.” The lights, the noise, the crowd—gone. Just him and me and the echo of everything we’d survived to get here. He took one step closer, his eyes steady. “Just in case you’re still wondering whether soulmates exist after all this time…I know they do. But not in the perfect, easy way people talk about. I think they’re rare. Messy. Stubborn as hell.” His voice softened, tugging at something deep inside me.

“They fight. They break. They find their way back, sometimes more than once.” He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re my soulmate, Natalie Bennett.” A pause. A b...

“Natalie Bennett,” he said, his voice steadier than mine would ever be, “will you marry me?” I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t breathe. “Yes,” I whispered. And the second I said it, the crowd erupted—cheers, clapping, camera flashes—but all I saw was him, still kneeling, looking up at me like I held the stars in my hands. I dropped the glitter sign and dove straight into his arms, and I felt the universe finally exhale around us. And right there, tangled against him and the aftershock of everything, I whispered the only thing that mattered. “I’m yours.”